Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Unbeaten Path Part 2

     I’ve looked at my unemployed situation now from many angles over the past few months. There were times when I questioned my own decision to move on from my teaching job. It was close to home, I had invested in the materials needed, gone back to school to better prepare myself for it, most importantly, I loved the kids I worked with.
     Was this all in vain? I wondered these same wonders again as I made Scott’s lunch for his first day back at school. From now until next June he was again Coach Scott, P.E. Teacher at one of our local elementary schools. It was the first time only one of us would leave for work. The silence of this small house was about to be amplified in my companion’s absence. 

     After making two avocado sandwiches with aioli mustard and that no preservative healthy bread I insist on buying despite its perpetual dryness, I decided to sweep the floor. Now there was no longer any valid excuse for me to allow those thirsty bread crumbs to settle anywhere but in the trash. 

     The repetitive motion of sweeping our wood floor brought me back to my repetitive thoughts on my choice to stay home. I thought about the alternative. I thought about the past when we both rose for work, ate quickly and then left to tackle the day with what tools we had. 

     After discarding the crumbs, I picked up my pencil and journal to write these thoughts into its beloved pages. As I opened it, comfort greeted me and I recalled how blank notebooks have inspired and captured all the most original moments in my life. The more I wrote, the more clarity came. I felt now, as I always had, that writing led me to this elusive freedom. I loved teaching, but it was evident to me now that it was time to move on. THAT JOB WASN'T RIGHT FOR ME! It was as if I had married someone I didn't love, but kept trudging forward trying to uncover the warmth, fondness and attachment associated with it. 

     What I quit when I left my job wasn’t the trade itself. I would seek this role throughout my life, I was sure of it. Moments to do so seemed destined to cross over my path of life.

     My last day at my previous job coincided with the last day I would worry about the opinions of others. I had stayed in that skin for too long; skin soaking in air choked with trepidation. It wasn’t that staying within the walls of our house would shield me from them, but now that I was resolved to bring to life the person I was inside the bindings of my journal, I was committed to recognize my own weaknesses and become stronger, smarter, freer. 

     And I was going to write; write about anything and everything! I was going to surf until my legs were sore and my wax melted off! I was going to make more short films! I would follow my heart down this unbeaten path and no one’s opinion was going to change that!

     Only you should ever dictate your own behavior. Now was the time for me to dictate mine. What was I going to do today? In the silence all I could hear were my own thoughts telling me that today would be the first day I would follow my dreams.
"For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning."

-T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding


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