Sometimes it really stinks to be conscious. To be aware. To be trained just enough to open your eyes and see how things COULD be. Sometimes it feels evil to get a taste of such a good thing when the rest is just out of reach. A horridly good place.
A place where I am challenged and pushed. A place where sometimes I want to dig my heels in and say no–where is my sofa and coffee instead? A place that supports me and never forces me, but looks me in the eye and says what we both know: “You will regret it if you don’t go for it.”
A place that celebrates my efforts and successes, but more than that, a place that has stopped to listen to the real me, and celebrates who I am. And from this place, I can face my questions openly: “Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going? Can I do this?” They surround me with the most powerful word in the English language, until their chant echoes inside my heart: YES.
Sometimes it really stinks to be conscious. I am able to see the person I want to be–the teacher I know I can be. With the vision fresh in my face, it tauntingly dances near and then far. And I make a list of progress yet to be made. I go to bed tired, muscles sore–but tomorrow I will wake up to greatness, standing inside and outside of my door.
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