Last Friday was one of my best days as a teacher ever.
Your faces will change, and in the future, I may struggle to put your names with them, but I will never forget nor take for granted the time we spent together and the many ways you helped me to make sense of myself and the world in which we live by reading, writing, discussing, and just being together.
This post is clearly and unashamedly a love letter to Dan’s music. As in all attempts to express love in language, it falls short of the appreciation I actually feel. I sincerely hope some of you will join me in my love affair.
The point is one of perspective Standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, one’s problems, which seem so massive and insurmountable in daily life, can’t help but shrink to an infinitesimal smallness in comparison to the wonder that is the Grand Canyon, and coming to grips with the relative insignificance of one’s tiny place and role in the grand scope and time of the universe is a blessing, not a bummer.
At the end of the day and a life, perhaps it’s such seemingly simple things/accomplishments as “a woman who knows my name” that matter the most, not the big dreams that fell short or didn’t come true at all. You may never throw a ringer, but throw the horseshoe anyway.
Sadly, most of us assign our personal prejudices to names and make a number of false assumptions based upon them.
What I’m one hundred percent positive of is that no child is born a racist, a sexist, or a homophobe. Such ignoble titles, like hatred itself, must be learned.
Along the way, we all experience and endure numerous “little deaths” in preparation for the failures of the heart and brain that await us at life’s end. What matters, therefore, is not that we often and ultimately fail; that much is a given. What truly matters is our response to those failures.
I do not judge or begrudge in any way those who choose to fly first class nor can I guarantee I will never fly that way again. As I often say, a person can get used to anything. For now, all I can say for certain is that on my first first-class flight, I felt like a little boy wearing a grown man’s suit. I did not like the fit.
The good news is that a person with High Places Phenomenon does not possess a death wish, nor is s/he suicidal. Although it is not a highly-studied disorder, anecdotal evidence suggests that many people experience this feeling at one time or another.