What a simple, yet elegant way to view past relationships. I know that I see my life as divided into 3 acts as of now: childhood, the 16 years with my ex, and post-divorce. While some characters have remained constant throughout the play, others have exited stage right once their part in the story was done. They have their mark and helped to shape the story, but they do not need to occupy space on the stage anymore; they are relegated to the shadows of the wings. Remember that the curtains may close briefly between acts, but they do not remain closed until the final call. Just because there is a shift in the action and a change of characters, does not mean the story is over. Do not be afraid to open the curtains to the next act of your life.
There are times in our lives when even the biggest and strongest among us need to be soothed. We crave the warm embrace and soft folds of our childhoods. Since it is generally not socially acceptable to carry around a baby blanket after preschool, we need to find new ways to provide comfort after childhood. We need to assemble out balm squad, an army of comfort that we can call upon when the world around us threatens to explode.
My own balm squad includes the following:
a mug of hot tea or coffee (or even just the smell of coffee)
the smell of patchouli (yup, my parents were kinda hippies)
Spanish guitar, Celtic music, or Metallica (little weird, I know)
a certain paisley throw I bought soon after the divorce for an imagined future living room
As I mentioned in my last Monkey Mind post, I am done with the enumeration of my meditation practice. I feel as though I have begun to make it a part of me and the key is just to commit to it every day. In this way, the remainder of the 28 days will pass and hopefully many more.
My lesson of late has been one of acceptance. It is foolish to expect monkeys to act like disciplined martial arts students; they have a wild way about them that resists too much control. Trying to collect the monkey mind is like trying to hold water in a sieve, you focus on one area, and the critters escape out the other holes. I am learning to cover all the escape routes in my mind with a thin layer of intention, rather than focusing too intently on one gap or another. I still lose focus, but it is more nuanced, more relaxed and less like a game of Whack a Mole. I think I’m finally understanding that oxymoron of “relaxed intention.”
On an aside, I am finding that I meditate much better in a prone position. I’m not sure why this is, perhaps it sends a message to my mind that it is time to relax. I would like to become more comfortable practicing in the seated position, but I am not going to push it at this point.
I am excited about my practice this afternoon. (Uh-oh, here I go with those expectations again…) I have been wanting to meditate lying in the warm sun, feeling the rays sooth me with their heat. Today should be a good day for that. Unless it isn’t, and I shall have to accept that.
For the most part, I try to steer my own happiness. I work to consciously react to situations and choose my mood. I can’t from the one glaring area; however, where my mood is entirely dependent upon external factors: my students’ success.
Mathematics (Photo credit: Terriko)
Of course, it makes sense that I want my students to do well. I spend the better part of a year forming relationships with them and working hard to help them understand algebra (unfortunately, I do more of the work than they do in many of the cases). I find joy in those lightbulb moments where the elegant simplicity of a linear function becomes apparent to them. I grin from ear to ear when I realize that they have learned the power of persisting through a difficult problem and the satisfaction that comes with a hard-won answer. I love to see them mature over the year and learn more about themselves.
So, what’s the problem? The problem is that the success of a middle schooler on any given day is impacted by such variables as the phase of the moon, Justin Bieber’s current hairstyle, the number of vampire movies playing in the theater, and some complicated formula (pretty sure it’s the inverse square) that involves the length of time since the most recent Gears of War was released and the strictness of their parents. I don’t have a whole lot of influence on those things.
Justin Bieber at the 2010 White House Easter Egg roll. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
My moods can shift like the tides depending upon how my students are performing. When their test scores are up, so am I. When they fail, I feel like I have. The result? My mood takes on the shape of a sine wave, steered by the hands of 8th graders. I take their grades personally, even though I have limited control over them. The times that make teaching worthwhile are when I hear the words, “Thank you for explaining math to me. I get it now.” My goal is for none of them to ever be held back in their goals due to a lack of math comprehension.
I’m sure this is something that parents feel, only on a larger scale. You want your progeny to work hard and be successful, but you have to step back and accept that they will make their own choices. Yes, you have an influence on their choices and successes, but they ultimately are the ones in control of their actions.
As we head into testing season, I am going to work to separate my happiness from my students’ performance. I want to be more clear in my own mind about my role and the limitations of my role. I can take pleasure in what I can control; I know that I have worked hard to reach the students and to make the math accessible to them. I refuse to let a number 2 pencil dictate my mood. But it will be nice if they do well. Maybe if Justin Bieber cuts his hair…
A standard number 2 pencil, unsharpened. Made by Sanford. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 