What I know for sure is that for my ship to come in, I first must build a dock. This time of a personal sabbatical is for me to know who I am truly meant to be. My teaching life has been one God-given purpose. But now I know there is something else. It is not a clear vision. The only path I can see down is to head back North and settle
into the Duluth house. The occasional visits and vacationing weeks are not quite enough to know what we should do with the house–keep it and learn the ways of the hinterland, or sell it and discover warmer environs. I can see basking in the warm summer sun, enjoying the never-ending views and then make like snowbirds to visit friends and family in southern climates.
This summer we will pack up the remnants of Gerard’s previous life and only the most poignant possessions from these past four years together. We have collected two cats and a dog, a jewelry shop, more books and a host of memories of living on the river. The pr
ice for the views of the St. Croix, at this present moment, is continued teaching. I have loved this vocation, but it has evolved into a creature that takes from my soul more than I am willing to give and still be healthy. Gerard hearing me strum my guitar for the first time, asked me why I no longer play. What came tumbling from my lips is that it takes time and commitment to practice and I during the school year I don’t have that kind of time to waste… Waste? That one little word was a huge moment of revelation. Last year, I would come home from school to sit behind my computer and work on reports until I dropped into bed. My work world was a passion yes, but for me to consider the passion I felt for producing notes on strings a waste definitively tells me I am out of balance. This year on many a day, I pack it in at the end of our contract time and call it a day. The price of shortened work hours is average teaching with guilt setting in for not being all that and more. Guilt is a signpost for leaving on a sweet note.
I will rise each morning and listen to the rhythms of my life. Meditation has not been mastered. It is a practice I will incorporate daily. I will not have to take Sitka walking at 5 am unless
it is my hearts desire. I will find my own grandmotherly wisdom and now have the time to be with three angels. I will collect materials for and create my driftwood mobiles. Gerard will teach me beading. I will play my guitar.
I can center myself in peace and set an intention of sending peace into the world. The grace of my life will the meditation. In grace, I build my dock, with the light of serenity as my beacon, I will guide the ship.
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable; and wealthy; not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly..to listen to stars and buds, to babes and sages, with open heart; await occasions, hurry never... this is my symphony. ~William Henry Channing
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