One of my new favorite blogs is called The Improvised Life and today's posting offered as a spiritual gift a benediction from a man named Neil Gaiman. Here's part of it:
"I hope that you make something that didn't exist before you made it."
I love that.
Yesterday I had a wonderful day teaching, a day where everything I believe to be true about myself as a teacher was affirmed and appreciated. I was ON. I moved around the room pointing at kids who enthusiastically shared their thoughts. We all laughed together and got serious together. Brains opened up. The days aren't all like that. But this one was a sacred day of tapping into potential and energy all at the same time.
And I came home jazzed. I played. I helped with homework. I made a delicious dinner.
And then, after being up and on for fourteen hours, I collapsed in a frazzled heap of depleted muscle fibers.
Ordinarily, that feeling would call for a long lounge on the futon, watching television and not blinking much. But, last night, for some reason, I found myself drawn to my work desk. I puttered. I cut. I glued. I made TWO cards! I came upstairs to show off my creations and realized, as I walked up the stairs, that my legs weren't screaming, they were dancing.
The process of "making something that didn't exist before [I] made it" tapped the deeper part of my well of energy. It pointed out -- AGAIN -- that if I just START, no matter how tired I am, that I will finish with a sense of spiritual peace. In creating, I tap into the Spirit who creates so much more than I do, and I walk away nourished.
"I hope that you make something that didn't exist before you made it."
I love that.
Yesterday I had a wonderful day teaching, a day where everything I believe to be true about myself as a teacher was affirmed and appreciated. I was ON. I moved around the room pointing at kids who enthusiastically shared their thoughts. We all laughed together and got serious together. Brains opened up. The days aren't all like that. But this one was a sacred day of tapping into potential and energy all at the same time.
And I came home jazzed. I played. I helped with homework. I made a delicious dinner.
And then, after being up and on for fourteen hours, I collapsed in a frazzled heap of depleted muscle fibers.
Ordinarily, that feeling would call for a long lounge on the futon, watching television and not blinking much. But, last night, for some reason, I found myself drawn to my work desk. I puttered. I cut. I glued. I made TWO cards! I came upstairs to show off my creations and realized, as I walked up the stairs, that my legs weren't screaming, they were dancing.
The process of "making something that didn't exist before [I] made it" tapped the deeper part of my well of energy. It pointed out -- AGAIN -- that if I just START, no matter how tired I am, that I will finish with a sense of spiritual peace. In creating, I tap into the Spirit who creates so much more than I do, and I walk away nourished.
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