The Miracle of This Is It

I’ve spent a substantial amount of time in the last few months thinking about energy. I started at the beginning of October to take note each day of what I devoted my energy to. I did this for a week without making any changes. I simply noted what consumed my thoughts, what was part of my physical tiredness, who I was loving, and what I was dreaming. At the end of each day, I used this review as my meditation.

After seeing where the energy was going, I started something new. I woke up determined each day to focus my energy on all things positive, all thoughts positive and to be surrounded by positive people.

Except for one brief lapse on the Tuesday of the third week, I have noticed a remarkable difference in my own demeanor, the amount of physical energy I have, and the joy I take in seeing people.

I will admit that I laugh at myself because it all sounds so very strange. It does and it doesn’t. It seems an odd undertaking to channel your own energy. It seems stranger to record it. My job takes every ounce of physical and mental energy that I possess five days a week, and I just found that it was virtually impossible to do it well and devote energy to anything negative whatsoever.

There is a certain joy to life that I strive for. It’s not a major thing at all. It’s a joy that is so simple that it gets overly complicated a lot of times.

When I was 12 years old, my aunt gave me a book called “The Miracle of the Bells.” In it a very young woman is trying to become an actress. She is never quite good enough, but get a “break” one day from her admirer and is cast in a film. At the same time, she is dying. She resolves to finish the film and does. After her death, it is decided that the film will not be released. Her friend develops a plan as he prepares for her burial. He asks that church bells in the small town she is from ring for days on end. As the bells ring, notice is paid to her story and the film opens with resounding success. He is so pleased that her spirit is not only preserved in the film but that she shines for the world to see.

If that were not life lesson enough, I took away from it a very simple passage. In it, the characters are discussing life. It is decided that she lived her life to the fullest she could. She did what she loved until the very day she died, and the world was left with her beautiful spirit. Her friend went on to say that had she lived past her fame, she would have been forgotten and her spirit would have died.

I have held onto that for the past 15 years.

I laughed at Matt Kemp throughout the entire baseball season because he was so gleeful as he played baseball for the Dodgers. Then, one night, I realized I shouldn’t be laughing at him, and I thought if I could take half as much joy in my work as he does, life would be pretty amazing.

I watched “This Is It.” The film made from footage of Michael Jackson’s rehearsals right up to his death. I was struck by the joy. The joy he took in his art. The way that he used his entire self as an expression of that joy. It may seem that he had an easier means for doing that because his body was his art. That was simply his way.

Really, though, that is true for all that we do.

I describe what I do every day as an ‘artistic science.’ And I wrote about this last night, I know. I may be so exhausted but those moments that I share with my students, I am so unbelievably joyful.

I said I am lucky. But I’m not. It’s hard to work to find your joy. It’s hard work to get past what the world says you should do and be. It’s very hard work to make your work an expression of your beliefs. I may not dance. I may not play baseball. I may have one of the quietest talents that is out there. But I get to share it in such amazing ways. I get to receive twice as much as I give.

And I consider it to be a miracle. A miracle to do something that one loves. To feel that time suspends for you. To feel that you can create what you will. To be able to blend everything that inspires you, everything you love, everyone you respect into a body of work.

I love the ideas. I love thought. I love crafting both into something that can be shared. And I love knowing that if this were it, the memory of me would be one of joyful sharing.

Fulfillingness’ First Finale

(With apologies to Mr. Stevie Wonder for stealing his brilliant title.)

Ah, but I think I get it.

Majorly understand. And in a nutshell this is what it means to me: I’d rather go home totally, completely exhausted than go home crying because I think my work doesn’t matter.

To be fulfilled is one of the  greatest things life has to offer us.

I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to feel this way. This is not to say that my life is perfect, but it’s about as close as I can force it to be. At this point, the only things that I’m truly unhappy about are totally out of my hands.

So, I started last week praying for something for myself. For the first time in a very, very long time. Two somethings really. I think for the first time I don’t see it so much a selfish thing as taking care of myself. I will be the first to admit when I need help with that. Okay, not really the first, but that sounded good.

Fulfullingness’ First Finale. It seems like the fulfilment would be the end result. The “ooh” moment where you can just sit back in revel in the accomplishment. But, no. It’s the first finale. Hopefully, of many.

The Little One

I received a text message today from my young brother who is a senior in high school. He was preparing for a debate in his U.S. Government class tomorrow.

“I told [my teacher] that if I had to be a Republican, I would just mock myself.”

I couldn’t help but laugh because sometimes when I talk to him, I want to apologize to my parents. Not for him, but for me. And I would except for the fact that I’m sure they were as tickled by my opinions as I am in my brother’s.

He went on to describe the entire project. They were supposed to write bills that they would present to Congress. He described his classmates’ bills: vegetarianism for all, handguns for all, and other similar mandates. I had to nod because he is in the same grade as my students, and I’m sure the bills would be similar if I gave the assignment.

My brother?

A tiered tax plan that would, in essence, raise taxes for the richest Americans. He had an added provision that the added tax revenue could not be used for the military. His argument? A historical look at taxes starting with Reagan. In his words: “I’m just going to talk about how Reagan ruined everything.”

It made me think of a conversation we had in the car about a month ago. “Don’t tell, but I think our parents made me a hippie.”

“Umm,” I replied. “I think they know, and I think that’s what they were trying to do.”

“Oh, and I think they were trying to make you a Socialist.”

Joy.

Love. Of. My. Life.

Yes, I’ve said it before, but it’s totally worth saying it again. For the first line of this song alone….

I’m in love with David Ruffin.

Dodger Intuition?

It’s been a weird year of “feelings”, predictions, signs…I don’t know exactly what you would call it.

It started in spring training, watching Kershaw pitch. Just a feeling that we were in for something exciting this year. A feeling with a disclaimer that he would need to learn to deal with his nerves. That held true for the entire season.

Then, two weekends before the end of the season, I said, wouldn’t it be funny if the Dodgers waited to clinch the division until they came home. “Funny” was not taken lightly. Even funnier (read: odd-er) was Friday of that final homestand, and I sent an email that said:

Truthfully, I’d honestly prefer it tomorrow when Kershaw is pitching

And it happened. Odd. Odd. Odd.

Then there’s the Little One who turned to me during the first game of the NLCS, and said, “Manny’s going to hit a homerun just to spite you.”

And again, it happened.

Then there was Jimmy Rollins last night. He was interviewed prior to the game and my tweet:

Jimmy Rollins is making me queasy. #Dodgers #Phillies
4:52 PM Oct 19th from TweetDeck

I sat on the floor while the Phillies had two on and turned my head up to the TV just in time to hear that Rollins was headed to the plate. My heart sank. Just another of those moments.

I don’t know what it’s been or what it means. I don’t purport to be psychic. I just think baseball is such an intensely funny game that who knows how or why things happen.

Which brings me to my last example.  My email from yesterday morning before the loss:

For some reason though, and perhaps this is semi-wishful thinking, I have the sinking feeling this is going to 7.

Here’s hoping this is a trend that can keep up for just a couple more days.

Back into the Classroom

When I started this blog, I wrote out my bio (which now needs to be changed) and I said that I missed teaching.

I am very happy to say that I am 7 weeks into my newest job teaching English. Not only am I teaching high school English, but I have fulfilled one of the goals on my life’s to-do list (the one I created at 17): to teach American Literature. Perhaps that makes me a nerd, but I’m a giddy nerd.

Writing is my absolute first love. When I interviewed, my now-boss asked what I would say to students who told me that they hated writing. I answered quite simply, “Writing saved my life.”

I don’t know if that’s what got me the job, or if that had any lasting effect, but I meant it wholeheartedly. Writing has never saved me from the imminent peril of having my physical life stripped from me. It’s saved my soul. Repeatedly.  When I disappear, it’s what I do. When I’m hurt, it’s what I do. When I don’t understand what’s going on in my life, I write. And I write and I write. Somewhere in that writing, things become clearer and they start to make sense. I save my writing and I re-read in the attempt to not have to re-learn life lessons.

There’s something about being able to share that every day that has been wonderfully fulfilling. I don’t dread my mornings. It’s somehow easy again to wake up at 5:37 (mind tricks I play on myself if you’re wondering about the 37). I love crafting the lessons and answering the questions. I love interacting with the students.

This is not to say that it hasn’t been without its struggles. I entered into a job where I was warned that I should expect 30-40% of homework assignments to be turned in. My students don’t read at grade level, and their writing suffers because of it.

I get gems of questions like the one today: “What’s the past tense of ‘this’? My blank stare must have been startling, and I calmly explained that “this” is not a verb.

All in all, it feels wonderful to be back in a classroom. Even on days when I’m too tired to run or would rather be home watching baseball. There’s a special delight in the ability to share my greatest passion with young people.

1 Month + 17 Days

It’s been that long since I “turned off” off this blog.

I needed a little space. Some privacy for my thoughts. Some breathing room for my goals. I need a fresh start in a lot of ways. I started an alternate blog http://asoultwist.wordpress.com that I didn’t update quite as frequently. Why?

Because it wasn’t The Watchtower.

“A Soul Twist” is one of my favorite songs ever. I love it because it doesn’t say anything so I am always free to interpret it for myself. It’s always exactly what I’m feeling.

But “Watchtower,” it is my first love. It says who I am. It shows what I mean. It tells how I dream.

I’ve cleaned up a lot. I’ve thrown things away. I’ve cut people out. I’m healthier. I’m stronger. I have time to write. I’ve started teaching again. I’m in love with my students. I’m in love with writing.

And I’m thoroughly engrossed by October baseball. I am so unbelievably in love with baseball right now. And it’s funny because I reopen this blog on the night of the my biggest heartbreak of the 2009 season. The Dodgers lost in the bottom of the 9th to the Phillies, setting them behind in the NLCS 1 game to 3.

I’m not going to lie. I cried. I couldn’t help it.

This started so long ago in spring training. Actually, it started in January when we decided to make the trip out to Phoenix. It was furthered when I declared my unwavering support for Clayton Kershaw a couple weeks before we set out because I thought he’d need it (and in the past week, boy did he). It’s been months and months of games. Forty-one times I walked into Dodger Stadium this year and watched a  ball game. I was able to do that with the people I love the most. I discovered that I can walk to the Stadium from my house. I spent beautiful summer afternoons staring at the wonderfully manicured grass. I watched my team play an amazing first half. I was in the stadium when they clinched the division.

All of that, and the true reason that I’m so enthralled by the game right now is because for the first time in 12 years, it’s meant exactly what it meant to me as a teenager. It’s reminded me that I have these amazing, amazing best friends. My brothers and I have shared an incredible season. We’ve shared the beginning of this postseason through games and emails and text messages. We’ve shared it through phone calls and memories and lucky socks.

And every single time we talk about the game or a game in our past, I can’t help but feel so deeply blessed to have brothers who share this with me, who have made me the fan that I am.

So, on this night of my tears and my cursing at the television, I reopen “Watchtower.”

“No reason to get excited….”

My Personality via Pictures

I came across this personality test online that had you respond to questions by choosing a picture that best represented your answer. This was my result….

My favorite parts: the music element, the word “quirky”, positive attitudes and liking to see where life takes me. I think it was pretty accurate!

So, I lied…

I’m not a supporter of the public option in this national health care debate. In fact, I think it’s quite stupid.

I had simply hoped, as I said, that it would be a good first step. For some reason though, I fear that if it is passed, if it appears in this country, it will be the last step.

What do I support?

Well, you know that 30% or so that I lose from my paycheck every two weeks? I support taking a part of that, perhaps that part that is currently financing bombs and artillery, and creating a true nationalized, dare I say, socialized health care system.

What I want is for any person in the country (yes, even if they don’t “want” health coverage, weren’t born here, or a host other absurd exceptions) to be able to walk into a hospital, any hospital, and get care.

No, I don’t mind paying for someone who is unemployed to have coverage. I don’t mind paying for a college kid who chooses not to work. I don’t mind paying for a retired person who is living off of social security.

I pay for a lot of things that I do mind, so why not pay for something that I actually support.

And for people who feel that it’s not their responsibility to provide for the health coverage of other people, I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry that you don’t care at all for the 17-year-old kid who lies in intensive care, but whose parents can’t afford health insurance. But, no, no, that’s not who you’re talking about. I know. You’re talking about the people who don’t work and don’t try.

Well, guess what?  It’s not your place to judge, and they’re people, too. And if you think health care is any type of responsibility or privilege, then you and I simply do not agree.

It is the most basic of human rights. Not American rights. Human rights. And, I’m sorry if you can’t bear to part with your $100 shoes or that you feel that it’s your hard-earned money. Well, I work hard, too. And at the end of the day, I would rest a lot easier knowing I was working toward the common good.

So, I’m tired of the debate. I’m tired of talking about this. Public option or not in this bill, it doesn’t matter. It’s still wrong. All it says is that we need to keep working and working and working.

And while I may be tired of listening to inane banter about why people feel this is not their responsibility, I’m not tired of saying that it is. So, it’ll reappear in this blog from time to time, and my senators and congressmen/women will hear about it. Probably forever. They have for the past 14 years. Why would I stop now? I won’t. Not until it’s right.

But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
-Robert F. Kennedy

Fresh Cantaloupe & Other Loves

Mmm. I’m going to start with sleep. A whole 8 hours of it. Somewhere around 11 p.m. on Friday night, I was at the shaky-must-sleep-now-or-collapse point. So, what did I do? Went home to work. But this morning, I woke up after 6 hours of sleep and told myself “no” and put a pillow over my head.

Now, I feel a little over-rested, but that’s never a bad thing in the long run.

And my second love of the day: freshly sliced cantaloupe. That was my noon breakfast. After 2.5 cups of coffee. (Ah, I have cut sugar out again. Of the granulated sort. Fruit is my substitute.)

Workaholism. Missed it. Seriously. I know that sounds masochistic, but I enjoyed the last week because it was a challenge.

Angel Dance. The Los Lobos (of course). It reminds me of the best part about teaching.  And they’ll laugh up and down the hall, Don’t you go shout when you hear them fall, Let them fly across the wall, Let them cry – ’til the morning calls, Little two step angel dance…

Workaholism II. Nine hours of work on a Saturday. Morning meeting and photo editing.

Casey Blake. For real. Just one of those guys that goes out there every single day and does what he’s supposed to do. He’s ridiculously overshadowed by Manny and the Dodger youth  movement. I’ll take a .282 AVG and a .358 OBP any day.

Scoresheets. Love them. Missed them. Thought they started to distract my enjoyment of the game, but really they only add to it.

Running & Yoga. Never did I think I would list running or yoga on a list of loves, but here they are. I love running because it’s taken me 5 months to get to a point where it’s easy. I’m proud of myself for sticking to it. And I love the Bikram yoga that I learned (minus the heated room in my home) because it’s made my back stronger than it’s every been.

Naps. Another line about sleep. But the afternoon nap has reappeared. Instantly. Without even thinking about it, I quickly regressed to work-gym-sleep-work-eat-sleep-repeat.

Baseball in August. It’s giving Baseball in July a run for it’s money.