SYNCHRONICITY

My prose is poetry…

Today I have learned that existence and self-worth is not defined by lifestyle or job title. We all have worth and giftedness. It is those unerring qualities that come forth whether people or situations try to block our path or not. Our light can and will shine.

There had always been an adequate amount of synchronicity in my life especially in my adult life, professional life and teaching career. But, when I decided to seek and subsequently obtain my administrative credentials, I trusted that the cosmic flow of having what I assumed was mine to have, possess, garner would be simple and with purposeful ease. Boy, was I in for a huge awakening. On the final day and in the selfsame hour that I completed my administrative internship training, I discovered that there were roadblocks already set in place to obstruct my advancement in order to keep me right where I was—working in a rigid classroom-based teaching position. Every administrative opening that I qualified and applied for remained a futile effort and heart-rendering struggle.

This pattern remained in place for four brutally painful years. Midway during that period, I prayed to overcome the hurt and pain of feeling stuck, rejected and nonvalidated in my professional worth. In time, with the support of family and friends, I learned to accept the reality of my struggle, forgive the road blockers (Oh, they did manifest themselves), and move on with my life.

Today, I love what I do—I love who I serve—I love my students—I love the place where the sole of my feet tread. I am fully grounded in gratitude—in knowing that I am where I am supposed to be.

ARRIVING HOME

Are you like me

when your hand

touches, gleefully glides

the steering wheel

of your everyday-day

taking-you-everywhere…

finally making that turn

arriving at the corner

of your often predictable

street…weary eyes

coming to a nebulous crawl

like your tired wheels

like your tired body

like your tired mind

arriving home…

that sacred place

of being

of clarity

exhaling

all the fumes

emissions

omissions

of life’s

daily grind?

Speckled Pockets of the Unexplainable

This morning I heard the soft, steady hum of a small room fan

Felt the plush, chilled leather of an old man’s recliner

Gathered heavy-laden limbs from my wayward wisteria tree

Lush begonias propped nearby—in a cracked concrete planter

This morning I heard two sparrows uttering a one-to-one love call

Pondered the angst-driven interplay of squirrels wrestling for ground food

Discouragement of scattered leaves clamoring for autumn stillness

Then saw my grandchild’s toy lying— where he last played

This morning I heard the huddled throng of random laughter and chaos

Felt the variegated bodies of middle-schoolers in narrow hallways

Observed their scuttled feet making leaps to a readied classroom

With crumpled hoodies and tangled headphones wrapped about

arms guarded with wireless laptops— being wired for success

It all reminds me…assures me that life contains speckled pockets

of unexplainable joy in the midst of pain and anguish.

THE BEAUTY OF SHEDDING

Shedding the unwantedness in our lives can sometimes be just what we need.

There is that place where you have nothing to lose because you have lost everything. Everything that was supposed to go. Sweating…Shedding dead, meaningless skin the kind that comes off after you have stripped spa-soaked in hot warm cold water… landed in a 110 degrees dry sauna room accompanied by 120 degrees steam room…then made your rounds to a few more rooms of 150 degrees…inhaling… exhaling… sweating…cooling…dehydrating… meditating… journaling… Finally… by the time you are ready to complete your renewal (without realizing it) your total body especially your legs and feet (those vital parts that carry you to and fro) have shed flakes…flakes of unwanted, dry dead skin from just the stroke of your fingers and the experience.

Shedding is releasing…when you release, you become able to tell it like it is.

Emily Dickinson said, “Tell the truth but tell it slant.” No, I say– tell it how it is. How it truly t-i-s. Unequivocally…Loss may come but clarity will too…in time you learn what really matters. Much like losing a loved one or a close friend. Loss can feel fresh when you release and shed…those who know it feel it. You’re devastated. The pain befriends you. The hurt sustains you. The grief rocks you. Some days. Some nights You learn to move on. But remember: You can get through this. Whatever the THIS is.