Saturday, February 20, 2010
The Space Between.
Saturday night marked the start of my weekend, which is just simply wrong.
Yet, I accept the blame. That's because I chose to sit through a 10-hour grad class with a 30-minute break. That's correct. A 30-minute break. In a class that ran from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. And throughout the mind-numbing ordeal, I resisted the urge to rip off the five pads connected to the heart monitor which regulated my palpitations for 24 hours. (I won't be surprised if my rate spiked every time I glanced at my watch; to make matters worse, the device kept popping out of my jeans pocket, and only twice did it approach belly-flopping into the hotel toilet.)
Back in the conference room, I joined 25 other area educators in a class on cooperative learning, an ideal concept that truly enhances the skills of successful learners--those in the metaphorical classroom called the world. The way I see it, all too often we meet people who simply don't want to cooperate. They want to lead. They want to tell others what to do, how to live, how to think. The shallowness and selfishness of these folks prohibit us from becoming who we are truly meant to become as people. And by not being ourselves -- by living, loving and working with people who cannot cooperate in life's journey -- we are defeating our purpose in life. We lose out on the greatest part of who we are, who we should ultimately be.
So despite the extremely long day (one in which I felt my brain officially shut off at 5:24 p.m., as I duly noted in my journal), I headed to my car, phoned home, and relished in soul food for the spirit:
The Space Between.
Cranked. Windows down, clear path on the highway.
Three times, I sang it loud, sang it with passion, sang it with conviction.
The space is where I'm hiding, waiting, wishing that I find the way to achieve what I set out to accomplish, where I can gather up my thoughts, my dreams, and my imagination. From there, I can unleash my potential that has gone back to the "sit, stay" position. That happens when life -- and your 21st graduate class -- gets in the way. You feel like you're on hold. And no one likes to be placed on hold.
So as much as I wanted to work on my book proposal tonight, I cannot. My space is temporarily draped with a curtain of exhaustion. And all that appeals to me is another Blue Moon and my pillow. Soon I'll be under the table and dreaman...