Oct 13, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Teaching and Learning
My Walk in the Woods — The Non-Bryson, Non-Thoreau Edition
©By Vijaya Sundaram
October 13th, 2013
Today, we walked in the woods, my daughter and I.
It was quiet. My daughter and I talked quietly, and only occasionally. The sun slanted down, flowing quietly through sun-veined leaves. Pine needles cushioned our footfall. Birds, mostly unseen, occasionally glimpsed, sang or chirped quietly. Far away, as in a dream, the traffic made itself heard, a hum from another world.
No rabbits bounded across our path. No deer gazed at us in consternation. There was nary a coyote, nary a fox, nary a snake and nary a scary beast. I was, when I think back, half-disappointed, but mostly happy. The trees were company enough for us. And they whispered as we passed, sending messages down their root systems. We tripped on some of those root systems. Radical messages flowed from them to other trees. The path was non-contrived. There were leaves, roots, stones, pine-needles. It was a path, nevertheless.
At some point, like Frost, we reached a fork, many forks. Unlike Frost, we clung to the one most travelled by. After all, these weren’t our usual woods. These were new woods, in a nearby town, near the zoo we liked to visit on weekends. These woods spelled mystery. Mystery likes to wait. No need to be in a rush to unpack everything all at once. Besides, there might not be anything, just the ever-present low-level hum of humorous anxiety about the prospect of being lost, even if only for a while.
In my world, courage lies in simple things. I shall never be a mountain-climber, a channel-crosser, a sailor, a lion-tamer, a sky-jumper, a person who is jailed for standing up for the rights of the oppressed, or even a person who simply quits if the situation is distasteful (although I’d like to be many of those things).
For now, I just want the courage to put one foot in front of the other, in the years of my life that are yet to come, and face my future with a quiet assuredness, and know that although I might have been afraid at some points, I never stopped.
I want that for me, and I want that for my daughter. I want to teach her courage in the face of her fears. I want her to know when to advance and when to retreat. I want her to know which cause is worth fighting for, and which ones are lost ones.
And how can I teach her these things, if I am afraid to find out?
One of these days, however, I shall take that fork that leads to who know where. I shall take it alone, I hope, and I shall return, stolen fire in my heart.
And I shall pray that the gods will not be jealous.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: Courage, facing life, keeping children company, meditations, ordinary living, walk in the woods
Oct 8, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Questions for the Day
©By Vijaya Sundaram
Oct. 8th, 2013
These questions occurred to me just now:
Is guilt about shame?
Is shame about fear?
Is fear about ego?
Is ego about being there?
What about dissolution?
Does it mean loss of ego?
Loss of fear?
Loss of shame?
Loss of guilt?
Would that mean death or psychosis? Or epiphany?
Are they the same?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End for now … ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: ontological matters, Random questions, the nature of being, the nature of ego, the nature of guilt, the nature of metaphysics
Sep 20, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
How much emotion is too much emotion?
Is it good to feel too much? What about insulating oneself from grief, after grieving deeply? Because, theoretically, grieving never ends. However, in the interests of staying sane, we spend a little time in grief, and then resolutely move one leaving behind a blue pool of pain.
Someone else will come along and trip and fall into it. We all get wet.
Too much wetness.
Is too much emotion an indulgence?
Sometimes, just sometimes, I let things slip and let a surging wave of feeling crest over me.
I don’t try and surf it, as I’m often tempted to, and wont to do.
Drowning is scary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: drowning, Emotion, insulating from feelings
Sep 16, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Parenting/ Home-schooling / Family Music and other Notes
… except that it was lovely for me and my daughter, yesterday in the woods near our house. Here’s what happened (as I narrated it on FB):
Daughter and I took a long, two-hour walk in the Fells this evening — we got quite lost after a while, and were quite thrilled with our adventure. When we first entered the woods, we ran into an old student of mine from my first year of teaching. (Nice to have seen you today, Andrew!) Then, we went on, saw places in the woods we’d never seen before, huffed up hills and slid breathlessly down slopes, skidding on rocks, and stepping on heavenly piles of pine needles, lichen and moss, along the way. The hum of traffic receded and almost disappeared. A very mild anxiety set in when we could NOT find the main path, despite following many likely trails. I was sanguine, however. I knew I’d find my way out. Then, after a couple of inquiries I made to a passing jogger who had an i-Phone, and could check his map, we headed down a likely path. Just as the sound of traffic swelled, and the road came into view, a rabbit bounded out of the trees and sat in the brush, its dark, inscrutable eye gazing at us in profile. That was a pretty culmination to our sojourn in, and return from, the woods. Then, we reached the road with a sigh of relief, came home, had pizza and fruit and watched Red Dwarf, Episode I, Series I, and Red Dwarf, Series 3, Episode 5. Nice day!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Mother and Daughter, finding one's way, getting lost, the path less travelled, walk in the woods
Jul 5, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
(Cross-posted on my FB page):
Yes, yes, I saw the fireworks! Yes, I even enjoyed them. Husband and daughter really wanted to go, so we went, but got there just when the fireworks began, so it wasn’t as if I was forced to endure the cheering crowds for beyond than half an hour. Instead, I just got to appreciate the beauty of the burst of colors (and tried to push unwanted thoughts like “It’s a bloody expense,” “What an environmentally wrong thing this is,” and so on, out of my mind). Yes, it was lovely. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the excesses, the environment, the false sense of patriotism, the rah-rah that goes with any such event.
It seems wrong to celebrate all this activity, though. This isn’t the United States of America anymore — this is the United Corporate Entities of America, and THEY certainly aren’t patriotic!
Still, I’ll go again next year — only for my daughter’s sake. One cannot inflict one’s prejudices on one’s children and spoil things for them (I mean, I even got over my dislike of winter and sledded for her sake — and even liked it).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Family, corporatism, fireworks, July 4th, patriotism
Jul 1, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Teaching and Learning
The Beginning
By Dreamer of Dreams
Monday, July 1st, 2013
Dare I say that today was my first day of vacation? Not really. I mean, school ended last Thursday (yes, that late), and I was there on Friday and today, and will probably be there on and off, tossing out old things, and putting away more things. The floor is clean and the custodians can do their work. The shelves are (mostly) empty. The side shelves are piled with boxes and papers. I took down my hanging plants and my odd pieces of interesting artwork and pictures and brought them home.
I boxed up and brought home a big pile of books I’d bought this year, kept on my shelves and never read. I will read them in the next few weeks, dammit!
I tossed out an entire large recycling bin worth of stuff (so much for being green), and felt horribly guilty.
On the plus side, I wiped all surfaces clean, swept the floor and made the room look neat enough. This is that no custodians will curse me into oblivion when they come to strip and wax the floors. Must keep them happy at all costs.
Meanwhile, at home for the past couple of days, I’ve overslept with my family, cooked nice food, visited some friends, done the usual laundry, taken a couple of walks with family, and read most of a large book to S in the past couple of days. Am slowly coming to my senses. Feel like a real person again.
Misanthropy takes a while to dissipate, though. It’s always the result of tiredness, and having to deal with too many people all concentrated in a small space, and at the very end of a rather long academic year. It’s not true dislike, I remind myself. Just heat, endless work and the call to be superhuman.
The school year is always like a strange dream, surreal and strangely contained, filled with its own challenges, some of which are good ones, some of which I can do without. Then, like a release, the holidays come, and I feel the sweet breath of freedom. No doubt everyone does.
I shall not draw any conclusions. I shall probably reach some dire ones if I try.
I cannot afford to.
Jun 25, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Kitchen Table Anecdotes, Teaching and Learning
Cross-posted on FB as well:
Up all night last night (Sunday night), grading the last of my 3rd Trimester papers (grades due on Wednesday). 4:00 a.m., I notice a male figure clad in jeans moving in the darkness of my living room (I was in our library, which has a window into our living room).
I call out, “W, what are you doing downstairs at such an early hour? W? W!” Figure moves away. I rush into the room in a panic. The side sliding door to our deck is open, and the wind is blowing the curtains. My heart stops. I scream. Poke my head out. No one there. Quickly lock the door. Rush upstairs. Check on daughter. Fast asleep. Check on husband. Fast asleep. Wake up husband. He jumps up in a sleep-startled panic, hears my story, goes outside, checks all around the house. No one. Says words to the effect of, “Well, there’s no one. Nothing missing. Why call the police now? I want to go to bed.”
I was and had been very much awake the whole time, and state this fact. Besides, I add, the sliding door to the deck was open, and we know for a fact that it was shut the previous night (I had been very diligent about locking back door and front door, but hadn’t thought that W had left the side door unlocked). That, and the basement door are the only ways in which the intruder would have come in, and left.
Nothing was taken. Meanwhile, I continue to grade papers. Then, I begin a large meal to take to school to feed my “Green Team” kids — today was our last meeting, and I’d promised a freshly cooked meal! Got to school very early to boot.
So, Wonder-Woman stays up all night, frightens away an intruder with HER fright, cooks Indian-ish food for fourteen or so students, grades papers, administers two Final Exams for the last two classes, feeds students, cleans up classroom, does some clerical tasks, and comes home, then feeds family with aforementioned food (leftovers).
A stranger comes into the house in the darkness of pre-dawn. I’ve been on adrenaline all day — returned all the papers to the last of my classes. All seems well. My heart is uneasy.
A stranger comes into the house in the darkness of pre-dawn. I cannot shake off the dread and terror. I plan to put my child in our room tonight.
W suggested I let the police know today. I planned to, anyway. It seems to me that the neighborhood should be on the alert and on the lookout for this shadow person.
Sorry to unload. Had to. A stranger came into my house in the darkness of pre-dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: cooking Indian food for teenage students, fright, grading, intruder alert
Jun 24, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Essays: On Books, Art, Literary Appreciation and so on, Teaching and Learning
Cross-posted on FB as well:
Just had my heart opened and cracked into many pieces, with my innards ripped out gently and inexorably by Tim O’Brien. [Finally got around to reading (and just finishing) “The Things They Carried.” Read it in spurts over the past couple of days, in between grading, cooking, grading, fending off an intruder, grading some more, dealing with people at work, grading some more, then saying, “The hell with grading- I want to read something GOOD, dammit!”].
Did I mention that I think Tim O’Brien is a god? War stories or not, this book is as tender, as beautiful, as merciless, as inexorable and as visceral as the writing of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, of Vladimir Nabokov, of Jhumpa Lahiri and of Arundhati Roy.
Now, I have to go back to about fifty or so short stories written by young people. Many of these are not half-bad. They badly need a full-time grammar and punctuation coach though, some of them. Still, I always like stories by kids even the most pointless ones.
The academic school year is pretty much done by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll believe it only when it’s over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: grading, school, short stories by students, Tim O'Brien
Jun 11, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Dread and Fatigue
©By Vijaya Sundaram
June 11th, 2013
Two words that sum up what made up much of my past week — and I know it isn’t over yet.
In fact, it won’t be over until I’m dead.
Meanwhile, I have to keep going, pushing on, like a diver plunging into the trenches. And you know what they say, the pressure in those depths can kill you.
Oh yes, there are always moments of joy — many moments, in fact. Moments of pleasure abound (as they do when I’m reading a book, and eating a nice snack, or seeing my daughter bound about happily, or when we watch “Red Dwarf” together, in companionable silliness, or hang out with my funny, but equally tired husband) — so, don’t worry. It’s not depression. Nor is it some treatable thing.
It’s bone-deep. It’s surface-physical, too, but that’s just sleep-deprivation and encroaching age, I suspect.
It’s soul-deep — because I see what the world is doing to its dreamers, its poets, its singers, its healers, its teachers, its truth-tellers — and I am scared for the future of us all.
I see the venality of people in power, and much worse, the greed for power in those who already have it.
When do such people choose to allow their humanity to be smothered? At what point do they say, “That’s it! I’m selling out!” Or: “The hell with everyone else. I want what’s mine!”
Or, more scary still: Did they ever have it?
I see the disrespect that people who know nothing about education show to the teachers in their midst. And when I see this, I want to curse those people to a lifetime of ignorance, and make them suffer for it. However, I cannot. I will not. The teacher in me says, “Teach them.”
That’s what I shall have to do.
And that goes as deep as living itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #humanity, Living, Students, teach, Teachers and teaching, venality
Jun 4, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Frisson
©By Vijaya Sundaram
June 4th, 2013
There have been about eight times when I felt like what I’m feeling now, and I became conscious of that the first time when I was ten years of age.
There was a thrill, a frisson, if you will, of quiet anticipation, of the sense of mysteries and adventures to come. And they did.
Hinges, they were. Things turned on those hinges. Doors opened and closed, avenues bloomed before my wondering eyes, horizons unfolded, mountains gave definition to the skies, window frames gave meaning to what lay outside. “Excitement” is too mundane a word to capture this bubbling undercurrent of quiet, tightly-contained feeling.
New ideas, new people, new expectations, new challenges, new ways of being, new kinds of hard work, new learning came on the heels of this frisson.
I’m not sure whether the frisson caused the changes, or a glimpse I had of the future caused it. What does it matter if one caused the other or the other caused the one?
Things had been quiescent for me, these past few years — not so now.
Not sure what the next decade will bring. All I know is that they have to be different from what they’ve been recently.
For the frisson is back. And I cannot bear the waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Waiting, excitement, frisson, future, glimpse of one's future