Resisting Being Blown Away

On a day when the wind is perfect, the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty. Today is such a day. - Rumi

Every Fall since I can remember, I have felt a sense of rebirth. I am sure it has something to do with the fact that, traditionally, this is the time of year when school starts. As a kid, the beginning of the school year is the chance to be born again. New teachers, new classmates, new clothes... changes are opportunities to recreate oneself, or at least to reassess. Now that I am older (and still in school, I might add), the autumn wind kicking up sends my brain and body into a whirl. Each leaf that gets sucked off of its branch and into the wind flies through the air like my thoughts - out of control and carried along by forces seemingly stronger than they are. And amidst all of this imbalance, I still feel the necessity to recreate myself because it is just that time of year. Whew.

So how is a girl to handle all of this?

Last week I had an especially chaotic day. I packed my lunch, for the first time all semester I might add, which consisted of a half empty plastic container of triple squash soup. As I packed it up at home before dashing off to school, I tied a green rubber band around the container, sure that would keep the contents safe inside until I arrived at school. I went about my morning travel according to plan and was even early enough to stop for a cup of tea. As I blindly reached in my backpack to pay for the tea, my hand was greeted by a cold mush. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, in the twenty-five minutes between home and the Whole Foods tea counter, my soup leaked all over the inside of my bag. With a deep breath, I accepted the morning's challenge, paid for my tea, and left the counter to search for napkins. As I did, a kind woman said, "Miss, there are things falling out of your bag. Your wallet is on the floor." Indeed, half the items in my bag were starting to trail behind me due to the now broken zipper up the side of my backpack. Now, not only did I have a backpack filled with squash soup, but I no longer had a functional bag to carry my books, binders, laptop, cords, and all the accoutrement teachers and grad students have to carry around on a day-to-day basis. This was only a prelude to the day that followed: faulty school internet connection, whiny (squirmy, loud, uncontrollable) high school freshmen, a lost earring, unreliable tech resources guy/botched lesson. The autumn winds were kicking my ass.

As I got to my last period of teaching and was beginning to see the four hours of my own grad classes on the horizon, I almost lost the ability to form a sentence. I was standing in front of my third group of freshmen trying to explain a complicated activity, talking over their side conversations and wiggly butts, and I lost my train of thought. In the middle of giving instructions, I could not get my mind back from the black hole it was spiraling into. Instead of fighting the absence of sense, I just sat down.

I sat down where I was on the edge of the stage. A few moments later, my body calmed and my mind graciously crawled back into place. The physical act of lowering my center, as my head was nearly swept up into the breeze, caused me to ground myself for a moment. Just sitting down provided a reprieve from the chaos, giving me balance when the world was feeling off-kilter.

Just like this act of sitting down, little grounding elements of my day can provide the opposition to the chaotic (exciting, thrilling, amazing) changing winds. My morning rituals, a phone call to my mom, a cup of tea, walking the same streets to school... When changes abound, I can keep my balance by recognizing the parts of my life that keep me on the ground, even if they are simple, physical acts like sitting down. By not allowing myself to be completely carried away, I have more choice about what I open my sails to when the wind whips up and threatens to whisk me away.