Here it is a few weeks into the chunk of the schoolyear that lies between vacations.
While i was living my non-school time, I got my NLP practitioner certificate, received official blessings from Mother, created a video clip for the Jellicle Guild up near Boston, Mass, started to sculpt a new puppet and in general reclaimed my required oxygen intake.
Now, that’s all in the lush distance as I dig into my dan tien and pull out some centered equilibrium.
It ain’t easy. There’ve been rockets. Fired in our direction. Other areas kept students at home for lack of shelter. We’re lucky round here – our school’s fortified and our kids are safe once in the school grounds. At home, we’ve got fortified rooms, so our kids are safe while on kibbutz. Only travelling is risky and i, for one, keep my eyes peeled on the sky and my ears open for explosions or siren alerts.
I got myself a new special ed class to teach. 14 of em.
And i got a bunch of once reasonably angelic kids who also feel the strain of non-vacation daily grind. School’s not easy to teach. But here i am, once more in the bowling alley of life – the ball’s supposed to hit the pins with a gleeful smack.
That smack is elusive i tell you. My ball’s barely where i left it. Only the bowling alley is more or less stable. Even that shifts in our modern situation. Sometimes i’m going to the same lane, sometimes the lane is switched a second before i toss the ball.
My metaphor holds. Bowling.
The good thing about bowling, however, is that every once in a while, the ball does hit the center and the pins scatter as they fall. They get picked up again – there’s no sad ending. But that wonderful sound whets the appetite to try again.
So it is. i try and keep trying.
That’s the news for this rainy Friday on Kibbutz Nir-Oz.
p.s. Notice how i’m not mentioning names or specifics – my sense of discretion will always prevail (and hence, bowling will always be a sideline)