swirling, whirling thoughts and hope

I'm on a writing deadline and absolutely should not be writing on my blog right now. Bad, bad girl. I have so much on my mind, though, and I feel like I've turned the corner into so many critical moments lately. And honestly, my writing process has been so much more grueling since I took a break this past year that I don't feel I have the same luxury to ignore the flashing light that reads "WRITE! WRITE!"; it just doesn't show up as insistently anymore.

So here I am trying to process it all. Trying to stop the whirling of it all so it slows down enough to communicate here.

I whirled my way to a yoga class tonight seeking the stillness only the practice can provide for me. A year ago, I went to class three or four times a week, and now I'm lucky if I make it twice a week. I try to practice at home, but it's difficult to carve out time and space. So I was looking forward to tonight.  And while my body might not have been as strong as I wanted it to be in certain poses, I relaxed enough to let go, and finally in shavasana, the final relaxation pose, I realized how unkind I've been to myself - how willing I've been to believe the doubts that whisper to me in my weak moments and how callous I've been in denying myself those that counter them. And I did something I haven't done during class for a long time: I cried. The tears pooled beneath my closed eyelids and rolled down my cheeks. I didn't rush to wipe them away or hide them. I welcomed them. With every deep breath, I willed more to appear - opening myself as they cleansed. When class was over, my mat was wet. I felt a bit battered, but I also felt purified.

There are some other conclusions at which I've arrived lately:

 1. Friendship for me - real friendship - can't be transient. It can't be based on convenience. And like a marriage, it takes work. And mutual honesty. And mutual respect. In order for me to share my life with someone I consider a friend, that someone needs to communicate he/she wants me to share in his/her life, too. I see friendship as much - if not more - intimate than a romantic relationship. It is what is left when the layers of  romance are peeled away - if they peel away.  To say I'm here. I'm your person, no matter what happens takes a commitment. It takes intimacy. I realized I don't take this commitment lightly, and a friendship without intimacy is about as interesting to me as attending the Republican National Convention or swimming in Lake Michigan in January - one can stop breathing from emotional hypothermia, too.

2. I have work to do in the classroom. In order to be the kind of teacher I want to be - a teacher in solidarity with my students and one who encourages resistance and critical analysis of our world - I need to plan better. I need to create space in a different way than I've been creating it. Hell, it shouldn't be mine to create at all; it should be a collaborative, democratic effort. I want to be that teacher. I want to inspire because everyday I'm inspired by my students.

3. I have two plans for the future: two different, bold visions. And like my sweet, wonderful friend, Adele, told me, I hope the plan that is wrong for me is removed from my path somehow so I don't have to make the wrong choice. I'm ready to embrace the right ones.

Back to my deadline now.  And then a rest filled with hope and energy. I think it's gonna be a mighty good winter.