Vanatage point
Posted on | August 3, 2006 | 10 Comments
It is raining softly, and the sky is the color of goose down. The fan oscillates back and forth, blowing paper ellipses across my studio floor. I’m starting to love this space. This place for leaving tracks across the page of my heart, for wandering and wondering, both.
Finches dart from twig to branch outside my window, calling each other and shaking raindrops from their wings. I’m grateful for the rain today after yesterday’s warmth. The past few nights we’ve had heat lighting, illuminating our bedroom with stark white light, and the days have been so hot and damp, clothes stick and sleeping seems impossible. Now the air is cool and gentle, and raindrops fleck the wooden windowsills.
I’m gearing up for a shift back to teaching, to being pulled in hundred different directions. I feel myself wanting this abundance. I love challenge. I thrive when I’m pushed, when an economy of action develops out of necessity, when my days are bursting
The past eighteen months away from work have been something I needed down to my very core. I needed this time to realign myself, to relocate my foundation and settle again into the house of my spirit. Like a bowl of water I gulped eagerly after a long hike, this time away from work with Bean ameliorated my fractured creative self, grown used to being pushed aside.
Now I have a studio instead of an office—I’ve given thought to where I put my paints and tools rather than storing them in boxes under the bed. I’ve adorned the walls and sills with artifacts I love: rocks from Long Island Sound; shells from Puerto Rico, prints I’ve made, photographs in faded black and white. This is why I feel ready to go back to fullness of my work as a teacher: because I have recharged and grown. I’m going back to something I’ve done before, but my vantage point has changed.
So I’m looking forward to returning to the daily activity of meeting small minds and giving them handfuls of ways to learn. I love the opportunity teaching provides me: to think ever flexibly, to see each child as an individual, and to discover how I can help them learn. I learn so much from this.
It’s such an interesting opportunity: to take time off, and to return to something that you love. A bit like time travel, I settle into the familiar setting of the classroom, with younger, less experienced versions of myself in attendance, as I gather papers and sort through books.
I’ve often wondered if other people have moments like this—where they encounter themselves and discover how abundantly they’ve grown. Because of the very nature of growing (organic and chaotic,) we hardly ever have the clarity and calm to glimpse beyond it while we’re in the process. We’re simply doing it. But then there are occasional moments like now, where I feel like I’ve landed on a smooth rock amidst the turbulence—and can see below me the vast topography of where I’ve been.
I’m always shocked at this. To see myself, different than I was. To catch glimpses of younger selves; to find their outlines smaller than the shape of now.
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10 Responses to “Vanatage point”
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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August 3rd, 2006 @ 11:37 am
Gorgeous photo and it compliments this post so well. I’m so grateful for your reflections and observations – about life and your personal growth. When I read your passages, I often relate and think “wait a minute, I’ve done the same, feel the same and want the same.” Thanks again and again for sharing. xo c
August 3rd, 2006 @ 11:52 am
Beautiful photos and reflection. Makes me refreshed as I read about you feeling different now, having grown and changed your perspective of things. The studio looks amazing; makes me envious! At the same time I am happy and excited for you!
August 3rd, 2006 @ 1:09 pm
That was entirely beautiful.
The world needs more teachers like you.
August 3rd, 2006 @ 1:20 pm
That was simply wonderful, like a cool drink of water to my thirsty throat. I look forward to hearing your tales of teaching. I hope you can manage a balance between too much to do and time for yourself.
Sometimes I feel I’ll NEVER find that balance! Your comment about gathering papers and sorting books gave me a sort of half-shiver of longing for a long-vanished dream of teaching. Too impatient for that job, I suspect, but I DO so love the paraphernalia!
August 3rd, 2006 @ 3:05 pm
yes i’ve had moments like these…and they are a true blessing because without them i’d probably get frustrated, feeling like i was standing in the same place forever.
August 3rd, 2006 @ 10:16 pm
HA! I am scoffing (nicely, of course, and with love) at liz’s comment about the paraphernalia of teaching. I was just moaning to sweet Husband about how tired I am of grading tests – I’m ready for class to start! (Who knew so much could depend on hanging file folders?! And the lack thereof?)
Christina, I love this. It’s so amazing, to see the ways we’ve changed, our shapes and souls sifting, growing with grace and time. Life is good.
August 4th, 2006 @ 8:27 am
god you are gorgeous– how I wish we could squeeze in a visit before the school year cranks up . . . but we will we will!!!!
August 4th, 2006 @ 10:10 pm
wow…this was an amazing post.
i am certain you are an amazing teacher,
one i wish my children could experience.
and yes…
i have caught glimpses of myself
in the past in the present…
sometimes its a little bewildering
for a moment…
have to catch my bearings.
love the photos.
August 5th, 2006 @ 10:30 am
… and what of Bean? Is he not yet another young mind that would benefit from such a gifted mother’s teachings (and presence)?
August 5th, 2006 @ 4:48 pm
My son enters kindergarten in a few short weeks. I wish for him to have a teacher as wise, seeing and giving as you. Teaching is, I believe, a special calling. Thank you for taking on that most important work.
Thanks always for your wonderful posts; your photos and words lift me through the day.