Right Now

Though it did not feel very glamorous, I did a very good thing for myself by going to bed last night at 9:30.  I hadn't done this for weeks, and I woke up this morning feeling completely refreshed.  I love morning best.  Every spring, when the weather is suddenly perfect again, the first thing I do is pull back the blinds and open all of the windows.  It makes everything feel spacious and open, even though technically the change was very small.  Sometimes I crawl back into bed and listen to the birds and the silence that accompanies them.  It's just the birds that sing at first.  The rest of the day wakes up after them.

In the early morning in town, only a few people are awake.  This morning when I went to the window I saw a bunch of middle aged men run by with flashing lights on their heads for safety.  It made me really happy to see them out for a jog with headlamps.

Connecticut

This week I took a trip in a solitary way to Connecticut.

It was good and reviving for me to do this thing...to get on an airplane by myself and go to a good place to meet friends (and their new baby). Alli and Seth were generous and easy going about having me there to visit, and were very willing to share their baby too. I had so much fun with them.

I had been a robot teacher for the past month, very solitary in my work and mentally worn out. Winter has felt very awkward to me this year, and I am longing for spring.

But when I cut loose from the moorings of my tired life in Stillwater, and went to Connecticut, I woke up again. I paid attention to new things and time felt different again. East Coast timing met Daylight Savings and a new baby's feeding schedule. I did not just stay with Seth and Alli. I actually encountered a lot of people on this trip. That's why I resonated so clearly with what Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes in 'A Gift from the Sea'.

Returning

I've been away from the blog for another little stint, and now I'm back to it again.  The last post I wrote was reveling in snow (see title) and now I'm reveling in spring in Minnesota like everyone else, even if it's early.  REALLY early.  I'm back to the job today after Spring Break, and I am happy to report that I am refreshed.  It wasn't the kind of week where I did a lot of errands and small jobs and got super productive.  I turned off my mind. 

I didn't think about kids, I met new people in another part of the country when visiting friends in Connecticut, and no one called me Miss Christians for a week.  I didn't think about technicalities, and I saw the ocean and good people.  I also got out of a mental funk that was actually really overwhelming at times....something that usually typifies February thoughts for many people I think.  The vacation was good.  Feeling anonymous for once was good.  Encountering different things and not seeing them through the lens of 'I'm a teacher' was good. 

I wrote this giant blog post about my trip to Connecticut, but I just haven't posted it yet.  It is coming, complete with pictures of cute babies and the ocean and the fun things we (Allison, Seth, Grace, and I) did while I was there.  But for now, I will write about a dream I had last night.

Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow

Think 'White Christmas' singing with this post's title, but maybe change the wording to 'ice'.  Or the Hallelujah chorus singing at top volume.  That's how the science teacher chose to express this on facebook....

Today, blissfully, gratefully, surprisingly, I got news that school had been cancelled. 

I went outside to my screened in porch this morning and stood there in my pajamas and drank hot coffee with real cream and sugar.  I heard the rain falling on the snow (weird) and smelled the fresh, cold air and heard the trucks all over town dropping salt and making things less scary for driving.  (The many hills in Stillwater are NOT to be reckoned with unless there is salt on the road.)  I just stood there and let it all soak in.  It was beautiful. 

What Helps in February

Sometimes this time of year can feel a little trenchy to me. I use this word in a cavalier way, and don't really have any idea what it means to compare my life to actual combat conditions from 100 years ago. But the word trench always comes back in winter right about now. You see the sky but you feel even closer that you are standing in the mud.   It's more about perspective than anything else.

I generally tend to think that beautiful and interesting things are right in front of you.  They go stale if you don't fight to get back the good. And I really felt that last week. My mind and body were not in sync at all (I can't type that word - ever - without thinking of the 90s boy band that spelled it wrong and made it such a cultural reference) and I was going through motions on the outside and living far away in a disorganized way. And that's about all I was doing.

Something Timeless in Northfield

This morning I woke up in my childhood home in Northfield.  It's so lovely to have a home, a place set apart from the great wide world, where many things are as they were.  Before.  Things in place, in an ever moving world.  Before I moved and ventured into something new on my own.  Before college.  Before high school.  Before 1995.  There are many ways to categorize time and its connection to home when you've stayed in one place for a while. 

When I wake up in the morning in Stillwater, I am instantly awake, and know that I am responsible for things like making myself a lunch, teaching kids things about the world, getting help with car trouble if need be (that was Tuesday), not getting lost when driving to my friend's house in Minneapolis....those small tasks that fill the day.  Creating my own space to breathe and rest.  I like the independence and the 'seize the day' mentality that this place in the world and time in history affords me.  I feel grateful.  And I feel mindful of doing wonderful things with this life I've been given. 

Generally, in the morning, when thoughts get to the abstract, I think about the interesting things that are going to happen and who I will see and whether or not I have a creative way to discuss history yet. 

Flow, Thought, Reason, Question, Know

There is a thing called flow in the world, and when people these days use it they generally mean to say that you are so wrapped up into something...a landscape in front of you, the dishes, your life work...that you don't have room for anything else and the time flies by and you are unaware of most everything. I think you know what I mean.

It's so good to be totally absorbed in things you love or that grow something in you. And sometimes in this busy modern time, I find that often, I forget. I have a distinct impression this morning that I don't want to forget the simplicity of feeling caught up in a singular task, even with a mountain of little moments that will be quick and inevitable this week. And these days, thinking about it is an important part of getting there. At least for me.