You are so privileged and so temporary. Let both of these facts push you to make what you can out of what you have.
10 December 2008
I was two miles into a long run today when these words popped back in my mind. The sun was shining, miles of back country roads were stretched out ahead of me, and there was just enough grit mixed in with the snow and ice to ensure I wouldn’t be limping home with a bruised tailbone. That’s just about all you can ask for in a run on a windy January day in Michigan.
So I’m on this run, my mind is off exploring its various caverns (64% of the reason I run), I remember that line from an old journal and I think –
What am I waiting for?
Truth be told, I’ve been a little nervous about the coming year. I don’t have a master plan; I don’t have a job; I don’t even have furniture in my house. 2009 was a lesson in creating a self-structured life, and it wasn’t always easy – It was actually pretty difficult at times. And 2010 could look very similar. I’m working on switching my teaching certificate from Michigan to Washington so that I can substitute teach, and I certainly plan to have my hands in the soil more often than not, but, really, I’ll be providing this year with its shape.
And today I finally let myself get excited about that – let myself see it as an opportunity instead of a burden.
I am both priviledged and temporary, and to forget either piece of that is to waste time.
So I’ll build the furniture
and get back in the classroom from time to time
and enjoy growing food in soil that seems to get more fertile each time you look at it.
I’ll play the piano
and cook great meals with great friends.
I’ll get more acquainted with my sewing machine
and write letters
and feel good about the fact that the next time somebody asks me “What do you do?” I really won’t know where to begin.