Another Tuesday

Several of my friends, bless them, look to me and this blog to help them frame events both personal and societal. I fell down on the job yesterday. I had stayed up late, until about 2 AM Wednesday morning, and then for really the first time in my life was too depressed later in the morning to get up and face the world. The election result wasn't unexpected -- I'm afraid I sensed it coming for almost a year -- but the heartbreaking reality of what it could mean for all of us was too much to bear.

Back in 2001, I learned about an opportunity to teach a course at the Community College of Vermont called "Seminar in Educational Inquiry," a wonderful capstone course for students nearing graduation. I spoke to the administration on Monday, September 10, and got a call that I was hired later that day. I was then scheduled to come in to the office and pick up a load of books, syllabi, etc. at 11 the next day. Well, we all remember what happened early in the morning of September 11. I walked to downtown Middlebury, literally not knowing whether our whole country was under attack and what would happen next, and when I spoke with my coordinator about the Wednesday night class, we agreed that assuming the class took place, I should just go with the flow. Let students talk.

In a case of perfect synchronicity, the course "question" for that week was, "How do I know who I am?" And as the dozen or so of us met around the table, shaken and afraid, we introduced ourselves to each other, and we tried to articulate who we felt we had been on Monday, and the change that had taken place over 24 hours.

Isn't it strange? Another Tuesday shocker, fifteen years later, only this time it is not really a bolt out of the blue. It was the democratic process at work; we chose our own destiny. Once again, who I was on Monday of this week and who I am now, while not two "different" people, feels utterly reconfigured.

I was able to make only one decision yesterday. I've tended to write this blog about every three to four days. I've wanted to write more, but those childhood admonishments ("don't think so much") have held me back. No more. I think it will be important to check in almost every day, even if some readers choose only to read occasionally. Part of the reconfiguration involves the metaphor of me on the boat, going down a new stretch of river. No longer do I feel like the captain of the boat, or the boat itself. I feel like I am the river, that at the very least I am called right now, drop after daily drop, to flow through this altered landscape with water as clear and pure as I can make it. I will just keep flowing and witnessing, at least for now. See you tomorrow.