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Archive for September, 2014

Ever have one of those days when your mind says, “Enough”? When words on the textbook page grow hazy and a mist seems to descend between your eyes and anything work-related? When something about the outdoors beckons, whispering of the changing season. Even if the leaves still cling to the trees, green. Waiting.

Like the air. Almost breathless beneath the sun. Hushed.

Like that part of me. Half breathless; half finally able to breathe.

This fall, I’m taking four classes. I’m teaching four as well. I’m also spending an hour or three at my kids’ school most days, helping with the students’ reading and literature. And that’s not counting my freelance writing and editing, nor the various editing projects I’ve volunteered for — for some reason or another.

On their own, I love each of these. Teaching. Learning. Working with kids. Working with words. Doing things never done, never experienced before. But all at once, it’s a bit overwhelming at times. There are moments that I sit at the computer, and my brain hits overdrive within minutes.

Maybe that’s why the blue sky beckons, and the rustling of nature beneath it.

I’m reading the “Little House” series with my son, and The Hobbit with my daughter. One reality of a time past; one the creation of a fantastical world. Both beckon with a strange sense of nostalgia. The endless sky. The waving grasses of gold on the windswept prairie. The forlorn mountains, majestic. The magic in them mingles with the magic of nature that surrounds me. The mystery of them whispers beneath the silent breeze.

What does it all mean? Sometimes I feel (if I had a bit more time to listen, to close my eyes and feel, to write the words and concepts that well up only once I put pen to paper) that I would begin to understand just a little more.

That it would lead me on a journey no less adventurous than Bilbo, who ran out the door without weighing up the end of days, forgetting his handkerchief in the process. Who dreamed of his home — food, warmth, security — but embraced the adventure and was transformed by it.

It’s all an adventure. A seeking after that hint of nostalgia that whispers of a Home beyond the temporal confines of earth and sky. Time races past and a certain sense within begs us to stop, listen … before it’s too late and passes altogether.

Something about the magic and mystery of today urges me to do just that. Take time for it. For life … in all its busyness and moments of silence. Of adventures and mundane-ity. Of all that transpires beneath the endless blue.

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