Reunion

I went to a reunion and we relived the meanness we had in high school from some people. One of us tried to explain that another's life must be filled with a lot of pain to be so cruel and another chided her . "No, she is just mean, no excuses."
Is there value in forgiveness? Imagine a virtual garbage bag that you carry around with you and collect all your bad feelings and grievances. It would soon be huge and you would be carrying it around on your shoulder. Who is being punished? You ! You with your giant trash bag. All the people who committed slights against you don't care in the least that you are put out. Why carry around other people's trash?

I discovered a long time ago that you can't make anyone learn something. Did you ever try to make a baby eat or a toddler learn how to use the potty? Well, that is actually the way it is all the time. So I have become a facilitator. I provide opportunities to learn through environment and the aura I bring to the encounter, but so much is in the learners' court. It is all part of the locus of control. We teachers are loathe to give up the illusion that we are in control. But in reality we control very little. Go forth and learn, bold ones.

My new Mac

So... I got a new Mac at work. The first thing I did was look for the rest of it. I just saw this wonderful huge flat screen. THERE WERE NO OTHER PARTS! I have no idea how to use the gorgeous machine but OMG it is beautiful.

The bridge

Happy Birthday

Thank you, thank you, yes, I am a year older. Everyone should have a birthday party on a bridge with good friends, food and wine. People walking past wish you a happy birthday and you watch kayakers and tour boats swirl beneath you. The sun sets red through the next bridge over and the the moon and planets make an appearance. We danced to old "back to school" music ( on KUT's Twinetime. Try streaming it) and played drums and lit candles.
So now I offer up a poem I wrote on my twenty fifth birthday.

On Attaining Twenty-five (years)

Well, I've written a love poem,
Two death poems, it's time.
A poem on my lost youth
on attaining twenty-five.
It seems a good thing for me to write
with me being properly mournful,
Only I don't feel anything.
Oh, a momentary qualm
That I've done nothing with my life
Or a sharp second of anquish
On realizing my life is one third over.
Other than that, nothing.
Of course I've been thinking of nothing
For a week now.

When all else fails

When all else fails, go back and do something you know how to do very well. Just the act of being successful can make taking on new challenges easier. A five year old taught that to me today.