It's still morning and I've had my coffee. I've read the paper/checked my e-mail/shuttled the kids to school. I'm back in bed now. I want to sleep away the day. There's part of me that wants to order takeout and watch movies. This is not the day. Maybe tomorrow. I have three classes to teach--to inspire others to work hard.
A few years ago, when my marital troubles had hit their peak, I remember moments such as this. I would be dealing with the anxiety and overwhelming nature of our relationship and had to put it all aside for that hour or two. I always loathed those instructors who came in the room and emptied their personal fluff, their dirty laundry, during class. People pay to be entertained and be happy and be light. They don't pay to feel sorry for you. If I taught the class with any sense of sadness or emotional unrest, I knew the class would suffer along with me.
A funny thing would happen-- I'd leave my issues at the door and I'd determine that it was possible for me to could give them everything for that hour. Those were some of my best, most focused classes. It was liberating -- a testament that the mind can be freed from the depressing/anxiety-riddled nature of real life struggle. Instead of drudgery, the class became my little window of normalcy.
I'm hoping I can capture that same feeling today. I'd much rather be here in a contemplative state, writing, eating, hoping, or maybe just pulling these covers over my head.
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