School starts tomorrow.
And with it the hopes of a colossal do-over for kids everywhere. And their parents…and teachers.
There is something magicable in fresh starts – especially when education, exploration, and learning are present.
In our human minds where wishful thinking leads us down hidden paths and to fields of wonder, we need time and space to wander, splat, and get back up again. As adults, we sometimes still talk about “giving ourselves permission” to fail.
As a fan of wishful thinking, I bear witness that it isn’t all listening to the wind and stars. Sometimes it is bearing hope when hope does not bear us or waiting for the doorbell to ring when we have not given notice we are home nor invited others in.
But wishful thinking can stretch the sidelines of our imaginations. Remind us to be curious…to get quiet enough to listen to the wind and the stillness of our own heart.
Do-overs. Back-to-school always meant “do-overs” to me. Such as, “maybe I won’t be such a dork this year” or “I’ll finally have a best friend!” or “Valedictorian? Yeah. That’s the ticket.” Wishful thinking.
This year, it means all of those things and a few more.
Last Wednesday, I spoke with my professor and friend to tell her I’m not sure I will keep going with the MPA. You see, a few days after my 50th birthday, I learned I was losing my sight and I wasn’t sure I wanted to invest whatever sight I had left to squinting over books and writing papers in hopes to learn how to better serve and lead.
A few hours later, I was sitting in my eye doctor’s chair when I learned the diagnoses I had heard had been all wrong…my sight was only in danger of my own shenanigans – NOT a detaching retina. I cried.
And the doc just kept handing me kleenex…”here you go” and “here you go.”
I was in shock. This thing I had wished for became. It was magicable.
All the contingencies I had been considering, exploring, and planning for six weeks in the looking ahead to no longer seeing…or driving…or all of the other things I do as a single mum to pay the bills and pick up the raspberries and run the Konza became null and void. I am crying just writing this.
School begins for me in a few days. After the eclipse.
It has been a shadowy season. So many mornings the sun felt obscurred and the earth surreal. I wished for an unbroken heart. And I worked for healing when breathing seemed too much to ask.
What is magicable in this? Where desire failed, love prevailed – a love for my kids and our name. Love for my pals. Love for skiing and the prairie and for the stories which end with the dark horse stretched across the finish first. This love led me to ask for help and help came every three to four weeks on a hill by the lake.
Wishful thinking and help.
Tomorrow school begins for the local minions. Next week, I will have paid tuition (oy.) and viewed the eclipse and held the hand of a good human. I’m even considering a tiny arts and crafts house to buy. The kids are living lives which cause me to be still and silent in the wonder of it all. We are family.
It is all magicable.