Pause and see how you've changed.
This is for the teachers in the room.
It's the only thing that is certain. Change.
In one year, I'm teaching lessons again, giving presentations at universities, going back to school to get an advanced degree. I'm a competitive fencer now, I'm gardening, I've returned to protesting and marching, I'm attending religious services again, I'm speaking up when I never did before…I hardly recognize myself.
But I can I see that I am changing because I am regularly taking time to pause and witness it. I'm witnessing it alone and with others I love and trust. My immediate environment is reflecting that change, in terms of my furnishings, my clothing, my hair style, my food choices, how I exercise, and so on. As my mind and heart change, so do my surroundings.
Same for you. You're changing too and your environment is telling you how.
You're getting older. You're weathering political and social storms. Things are or are not happening in your career. You're moving about the earth in a particular way and this way may be different from a year or six months or last week ago. All of that is reflected in your environment.
Pause. Please pause.
Take stock of the changes.
Don't judge them (“I need more [people/place/thing]”) (or “I need fewer people/places/things”).
Can you sit with how your world is changing and just…look?
I periodically share this with students because quite often they don't see how they've improved, grown, matured or expanded. And the “don't judge yourself” part is tough, which is why it is helpful to review with a loved one.
Can you do that?
Yesterday, it was 78°F by 11 am in southeast Michigan, unusually warm weather for April. After practicing the piano and working on my lessons for today and such, I went into the backyard to begin the process of turning it into a garden. I have seedlings growing inside, and I needed to prepare to transplant them outside.
My home and land are under renovation, though so though the inside is pretty much done, aside from interior design stuff, the outside looks like…well, *deep sigh*.
So I set about changing that in the beautiful weather.
Here's the point:
After I finished, it didn't look like I did a dern thing. Ugh!
After five solid hours of toil in the soil, it just looked sloppy. I even took pictures and I was baffled by how disastrous it appeared.
In tears, I talked to my friend E., and shared my disappointment.
E is also a teacher and a department chair at a major university. Super smart and hilarious, she's a great person with which to converse when you need a perspective shift. She has experience renovating, and is a graphic designer by trade. We bought our houses at the same time—hers was also a fixer-upper—so she is a gold mine of information and resources.
And she will tell me the truth, even if I don't want to hear it.
She asked for the pictures.
And was blown away by them:
She praised me for reusing fallen branches in the garden. She pointed out my determination to create a space full of flowers and identified how they'll bloom and when.
She saw the walking path I was creating around the mulberry trees, and saw how I was using the shade from the maple to create an oasis of sorts.
In essence, she was able to tell me what I had done without me saying anything: I had removed fallen limbs and chopped them up for the garden beds, set up the placement for my raised garden beds, turned over soil that will be used in the garden, moved the grill to its new area and cleared out the back to make way for the new fence.
She clearly saw the vision amongst what I saw as a mess.
She then said, Tomorrow you will see how much work you did.
She explained I was too close to it. I needed a good meal and a deep sleep.
E. was right: when I woke up this morning, I did see it, very clearly.
The pause is so important. Sometimes you need to remind yourself how far you've come. Sometimes you need a pal to remind you and encourage you to keep going.
As a teacher, you're excellent at helping students see their progress. I urge you to give that gift to yourself.
Please pause and take stock of who you're becoming, how you're transforming and how your environment is responding. Sometimes that is one of the best and lasting ways to see your own strength, resilience and beauty.
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