I am listening to Alan Jackson's song, "Remember When." I'm in a big white room the size of a classroom, with windows filling two complete walls. Their is one other colleague in this barren office space, although after the hustle and bustle of the morning, I believe we are both welcoming the quiet. However, the loneliness is still consuming. The hum of the office white noise machines drone in the background as Jackson's melancholy voice filters the sunlit room. The streaks of sunlight on my desk are rudely interrupted by plastic mini blind slats, causing nauseating zebra lines on my desk. The warmth and sunlight have me in a state of reflection causing so much depth to my thought, that I couldn't help but start typing.
It has been years now that I have wanted to "start" writing again. Starting again would lead one to believe that I had been a writer in the past. I have always thought of myself as a writer, journaling my way through childhood, savoring my language arts courses, working through assignments with long winded zest, studying communications at PSU and writing my way through graduate school and a thesis paper. I was writing about my life or what I loved to study and was passionate about. Then it stopped, quite abruptly. My outlet for emotional and intellectual dispensing of thoughtless or constructive thoughts, ideas, reflections, came to a screeching halt. I focused on love, started a career, and lost my outlet for the inner dialogue in my mind that never ceases.
When studying and working in the city in 2003, I wanted to write about fast paced city life and the glances from strangers on the bus, train and alley ways that left me concocting stories of what their lives must be like. I'd leave the train feeling as if I had brushes with humanity that could most certainly turn into magazine articles or novels.What lies within the souls of those we pass each day? It would be great to write my thoughts.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I planned an international symposium in Prague, CZ. Traveled by backpack through Austria and Germany. I managed an executive doctoral program at Penn. I met a life long mentor with amazing leadership grace. I worked side by side with the highest ranking higher education professionals in the country. I was embedded at Penn during a time of neighborhood revitalization in West Philly. I was fostered and nurtured as an individual and leader with a keen entrepreneurial mind.
But, I just couldn't find the time.
I got married. I became a member of a new family. I stood by life-long friends as they got married. I became an elementary school teacher and was surrounded by brilliant young minds with fascinating stories on a daily basis. I grew those young minds in days of anguish and glory. I did one hell of a job. I brought life into the world, twice, as Jack (5) and Vincent (2) both arrived. I was certain that God was in the room with me and that I'd never be closer to witnessing a miracle as in those moments of life entering Earth. My Mom held my hand and I the clarity of the sacrifice she had made for me as a mother had never been deeper. I saw in my parents eyes the love that had always been there for me and my brothers, but I didn't comprehend. Its the recognition of the strongest love imaginable, parental love, the kind that hurts its just so strong.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I advanced my career, left the classroom, gave up summers with my kids to dive into work. I juggled a full time career, yet was home by 4:30 for my kids each day. I have many thoughts to share on motherhood and careers. I've had countless hours of dinner time conversations with little people in high chairs, with no other adult to share in their delightful joy. I've laughed as noodles were thrown across the room and cried through fevers and frustrating tantrums. I've had moments of loneliness when all I should have done was ask for help from those that love me most.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I have the most beautiful two sons you've ever laid eyes on, in my Mommy opinion of course. I've been mothering for five and a half years. My marriage to a life long friend disintegrated in a ball of fire, which ultimately happens as two people begin walking away from each other and forget to look back, or at each other any longer. I endured a family I had joined, avoid hard times and focus on alienation rather than support. I've lost myself in others, found myself in others. I've watched adored colleagues move on to brighter pastures and found reward and heartache as they walk away in gracious thanks.
But I just couldn't find the time.
I've grounded my soul and I await the beauty and anguish that each day has the willed potential to bring. I have found shelter and love in a small group of adored and cherished souls that let me rise and catch me when needed, rather than enjoy my fall. I have faith restored that love does conquer all. I give thanks everyday for the journey. I realize now that it is time to listen to the inner voice that says..."WRITE." I started an education blog, but need to be careful about my slant, as
I'm still embedded in the field and representing an organization. Thus, its not unguarded and raw. So, I'm going to make the effort to let it out to the world here friends in a personal narrative, tap into the humanity that lives and breathes within each of us, and see if I have a gift that can connect with you as you sit out there in the abyss, awaiting words that you find relatable. Maybe I'm just filling an inner need and desire, maybe it's bigger, but either way I'm doing it.
I'm a Michener, so if you know James Michener, I don't promise to be short-winded. But, I do promise to write.
It's time.
And So It Goes...
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