I used to say that ‘you never know what your limits are until you bypass them’ or something like that.
well, i think i passed ‘limits’ a while back.
It started like this. I said ‘Yes’ to the puppetry course to teach excellence. I jumped in with all of my appendages and definitely ‘Yes’d’ again and again
I said ‘Yes’ to doing morning meditation with Grade 7 classes. It was my idea. I wanted to do it. I certainly could use the company for another meditation everyday, and I so hoped/hope that starting some mindfulness even in a small way, will help teenagers cultivate a sense of self, and responsibility for their choices. So Yes. Yes.
I said ‘Yes’ to the project with the American School in Albany. I love this project, and want to continue being a part of it, so obviously ‘Yes’!
I said ‘Yes’ to the poetry group. Of course, not even a ‘Yes’ is required. It’s like breathing. Even the long afternoon haul to Be’er Sheva and back is natural lung capacity. so Yes -Yes!
I said ‘Yes’ to 3-day Arts Happening. Yes!
I said ‘Yes’ to my online Yad Vashem course and its bi-weekly assignments and final project (which I am currently procrastinating in order to get all this down)
I said ‘Yes’ to presenting my digital prowess feats before an audience of digitally fanatic teachers in London at the end of the month. Yes, I said, but I began to doubt my staying power. A lot of ‘Yes-es’ preceded this particular opportunity.
And now, what do we got (as I ask now and then)?
We got a woman who gets up at five, meditates and exercises and gets through the normal teaching day with prepared lessons and energy to work with students. We find her getting home (3rd person observation session) and melting on a couch and after not having eaten for most of that school day, she may be seen chomping salad, dripping tehina, stuffing in some minerals and vitamins.
We see her fall either into a shower or straight into her homework bag to mark quizzes or tests or look for assignments handed in by e-mail, or via the school site, …..this woman is clearly on automatic.
Then comes the evening when it’s time to regenerate motivation to address another Yad Vashem issue trying to balance the horror of that reality with a few human stories, a little heroism, artistry, compassion, foresight – something to make it easier to address. She hopes that by some miracle, energy will have slithered up and down her meridians readying her to take on a new focus. This woman lives her essays, you see: she =them. They are her. And it takes a long time for the two of them to work things out.
And the brilliant digital feat thing- okay, I’m back to 1st person. I have to work out the bugs of the concept, prepare a pilot to make sure it is as user-friendly as it should be, and then record it all in order to make a brilliant powerpoint presentation (who has time to learn prezi right now?). A ten minute delight of inspiration and ingenuity. How long should a thing like that take? 100 hours of work? at least.
And then…that’s when I got sick. It truly occurred. One little chink in the armour and in flies the flu bug to see what damage it can do to my equilibrium. At this point, I’m forced to admit that damage is noteworthy. This I say after I’m well into recovery. I can’t focus properly. My timing is off. My charm is missing. I’m a little scaled down.
I have hopes. I still dream of meeting these commitments and then going with the full-flow of new ideas. My puppets – the three in mid-process and the one, or two more, in my mind.
My idea for a stop-motion cartoon. And a video series of my partner sharing a few cooking secrets.
I need an 8th day. I promise to rest on the 7th if I get an 8th.