sometimes i hate the moutains

i know admitting that is a huge faux pas around this neck of the woods, but sometimes they just get in the way. they kind of laugh at you like they know they are insurmountable. on days when i need a breather, sometimes they close in around me and i feel claustrophobic knowing that in an afternoon's time i will be unable to cross over the mountains and back.

this is why i love the ocean. you can stand in the sand and look out across the water imagining everything that falls beyond the horizon. when you look at the mountains, they are all there is to the horizon.

makes me wonder why so often we try to move mountains. maybe they are there to keep us contained. keep us from wildly escaping into an unknown abyss. should every wall fall, every mountain be moved? do boundaries and borders have their place in nature, life, education?

i know that when i'm walking down the hallway singing journey, it's a good day...

there is really no logical reason why at 9:30am this morning i was walking down the hallway of rocky mountain high school singing a little 'journey' with a big ol smile on my face. i fell asleep around 1:30am, woke up around 6:00am, headed off to teach sans-caffeine, sans-weather appropriate clothing, sans-any idea as to what i was to be doing today, and none of this seemed to get in the way of my happiness as i left first period US Lit and Humanities inspired and alive.

not to mention there is really no logical reason as to why i have this affinity for steve perry, a man who was making music well before my time. but there is belief in his voice (and in his eyes, just look at them) that ceases to inspire me, make me happy, make me want to sing at the top of my lungs walking down a high school hallway (fortunately this was during a passing period and so i doubt passing students could make out my horrible butchering of steve perry's lyrics).

i was riding a high. i imagine this high began sometime last night, carried through to my dreams, was there to greet me when i awoke, and was encouraged by the 31 students smiling at me as i walked into the classroom this morning smiling at them. happiness can be contagious. and when we are happy, we are open, and this openness makes us feel alive - we don't grow simply by sleepwalking. we need to wake up our students.

i adore the fall. the change. the color. this morning as i got into my car to head to rocky, there was fall in the trees, but winter in the air. the chill was anything but paralyzing. it was entirely awakening. before i fell asleep last night, i told myself that winter would soon be on its way, and i meditated on the magic that it carries along with it. christmas is no doubt part, but there is something else. i think it is in the chill.

i imagined i had a snow globe resting on my bed stand. inside of it was everything that inspires me. we can let that inspiration be paralyzed by the winter chill, or we can shake it up a bit, let the chill awaken the magic and movement in the air. and so before i fell asleep last night, i gave my globe a little shake - woke up inspired and singing some 'journey,' and passed that spirit onto my students.

what's inside your snow globe? and when was the last time you gave it a good shake?

what are you waiting for...