[Deep breaths.]

Tonight I need to leave myself alone and let others be.

[Telling Time (Off).]

"

There was no time yesterday to write of my best birthday present. Anne Woodson was to have come for lunch today, the only "free day" I shall have for some time to come. When I got back from Cambridge on Wednesday I walked into a house full of surprises...and a note from Anne to say that she was giving me a day's time...This is the day that she has given me and I have two poems simmering, so I had better get to work.

"

*

My last day of student teaching was on Friday.

I am now -- officially -- a real person.

I didn't quite know how I'd react to that fact, even though I've had a lot of practice faking it since I "graduated" last May. Two days in, all I know is that I am ecstatic to be moving on, a tinge sad about the college chapter of life being completed, and am especially excited about the potential that December holds for me. It's a month of timeless freedom. My job isn't slated to begin until January, so I am left to simply do whatever I feel I need to do to get by until then. I've got a few odd jobs lined up, a project that will add some purpose to my existence, and days upon days that I can spend however I so choose. (Granted, the empty wallet will have quite the impact on my options, but entertaining myself creatively is my favorite past time.)

This new reality of empty calendar pages full of promise makes my life feel like it is, in fact, my life.

The best part thus far is that I am not rushing through life. I am able to look past my own immediate plans and stressors and have plenty of flexible time to spare for people. It feels good. Fulfilling. I can breathe.

Life is not meant to be lived the way we've been trained to live it. Most days simply blur together and by the end of any given week, I remember little and learn even less. To have time to process things, time to venture into the core of existence and coexistence, time to take in the snowflakes and the sunshine...

I'm sure it will be a far-from-perfect December. Yet any moment when I have the time to feel-- whether that's an uplifting feeling or otherwise-- I am learning to be entirely grateful. So many of my days I've wasted building walls to keep feeling out. I wonder just how many of us go without feeling day after day. (I never want to know the answer, but I wonder, nonetheless...)

"

Sometimes I wonder whether what is often wrong with intimate human relations is not recognizing [the necessity of suffering]. We fear disturbance, change, fear to bring to light and to talk about what is painful. Suffering often feels like failure, but it is actually the door to growth. And growth does not cease to be painful at any age.

"

*

*excerpts from May Sarton's Journal of a Solitude

[Inordinate.]

I rediscovered this when I was reading through one of my journals today:

God as a cliche.

This is what activates my off-switch.

God is in the flush of my cheeks,

the spinach in my teeth.

In the passion behind a cuss,

in the rock against the windshield.

God is in the numbness of my toes.

The funny pages.

In the early morning snowstorm,

in the late night insomnia.

God is in my anxiety over disappointing you.

The drunk driver.

In the failed president's shame,

in the new hope's pressure.

God is in the stain on your tee,

the hiccups of drunkenness.

In the potholes of life,

in the rooftop gardens.

God is in false hopes.

The bad haircut.

In the sale prices,

in the budget cuts.

God is in that mousy mustache.

The fumes of the coal plant.

In the whites of your eyes,

in the yellowing of the pages.

God is in the clumsiness of my hands,

the insensitivity of your comment.

In the voided check,

in the swelling applause.

[Weathering it all.]

It amazes me just how much the sunshine (or lack thereof) affects my life.

(Mental Note: Live somewhere with a balance. Lots of sunshine, yet enough time without, in order to appreciate its brilliance.)

On days when I awaken to beams of light in my eyes, my outlook is thoroughly positive. I find myself in constant search for a way to live each moment of sunlight to the fullest. Shouldn’t I live that way every day?!

(Obviously.)

I’m discovering that I’m at a time in my life when I have to weather a lot of unknowns. A sunny outlook is helpful.

At the moment, I am waiting to hear about whether or not I got the long-term sub position at Garfield Elementary. That yes/no will have an incredible effect on my life’s course for the next few months. I will go from having the hazy plan of moving home for a few weeks to streamline all the things I carry, as well as to squeeze in all kinds of medical appointments before my insurance runs out, to quickly having to figure out a place to live until March…among other things. Sounds overwhelming. But nice, in a way…

Yet it’s hard to ignore this muttering in the back of my mind warning me against staying put. I have officially outgrown the Sioux Falls lifestyle and, despite a similar voice that loves the comfort that comes with this place, I think I’m ready to admit that I want out. I am keenly aware of my yearning for anything, so long as it’s “other”. I am tired of the routine. I am tired of the avoidance of the very places I am supposed to feel most at home. I am tired of longing for something different and doing nothing about it. I need a change in scenery. Need to venture out.

Soon.

But, I suppose if I do get this job, venturing out on my own could mean simply getting a studio apartment in the city and making it my own. OH, how badly I crave privacy….the feeling of being safe in my own home. Not that my apartment has been a threatening place to live per se—more so that I worry about getting yelled at by my mouthy and judgmental soon-to-be-lawyer roommate day in and day out. I have reverted to making a mad dash to my room and slamming the door shut as soon as I step into “our” space. My room is the only place that is truly mine. It is my safe haven, free of a critical eye.

Imagine if my entire apartment could feel that way…!

I could spend time with whomever I desire. I could play my music where ever I’d like, as loud as I’d like. I could not clean the bathroom sink until I felt it needed it. (Which would probably be more often than I do now because it’d be my own space…and because I have a strange need to irk my roommate in the most passive-aggressive ways possible…?!) I’d treat it well.

Ugh.

I just need have the space to be able to live the life that I long to lead. I love my friends here—I’d miss them (desperately) if I decided to venture elsewhere. But, at the same time, I think I have some growing up to do…seperately. I know it would be good for my soul to try and decipher how I see and feel about things on my own. Make up my own mind. Not get stuck in the drama between friends and their lovers. [Never my own…:) ] To be free of my mistakes and miscues… it’d be heavenly—like going off to college again. My reputation needn’t follow. I would get to choose who I wanted to be in the moment.

I’d like that.

Not that my reputation is bad. It’s just that it would be better left untouched from here on out. Leave the Bailey of Sioux Falls here. Create a newer version of myself. One that’s even more true to life. Worldly. Adventurous. In touch with all that I care about—the dirt, the sun, everything in between.

Newness. Wholeness.

I long for it all.