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musing on autumn approaching
Sep. 1st, 2006 08:28 amClasses start very soon, and I'm not ready. I mentioned to my boss yesterday that I wasn't yet up to facing the semester, and--she stopped me. "Facing the semester?" she said. As if it were an ordeal to be overcome or an unpleasant chore!
Yes, it's been those things at times, but I want to respond to it with the same glee that overtakes me when I pick up academic books at the library. (Oo! "The Ethnography of Reading"! Oo! "Faith and Narrative!" Oo! Oo!) After thinking about it, crying a little with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sen_no_ongakulast night, and talking for most of the evening, I came to a few realizations.
It's not that I dread the classes. When I think about taking classes this fall, I'm excited and curious--I can't wait for the first week, to sort through syllabi and see what comes up, to check out reading lists and start poking at the topics. Whenever I think just about what's coming up, I'm eager to start.
What is upsetting me is my current work, or rather, my inability to get it all done and ready. My Second Planting isn't ready yet! I want to be the fool in the field, and yank up the seedlings to help them grow...I want to have it all done and ready by equinox, and that's simply not possible.
It reminds me of the same dreariness that tends to overtake me in my second year of a job. I don't manifest anticipation and joy for the future, because I'm so aware of the undone work of the past.
But life doesn't fall into neat parcels, with each new event tidily packaged and all loose ends tied up in between. There are no chapter breaks, as much as I love narrative. And therefore, one of my hardest lessons is to keep at a good work, even under the weight of unfinished projects or past mistakes.
It is the second day of the long walk: muscles complaining about yesterday's travel and the landscape losing its novelty--but never its beauty. There will soon be the second wind and the rush of momentum. I have to be a Janus, looking forward and hungry for the new semester, and looking backward to accept and continue the work that isn't yet ready.
Yes, it's been those things at times, but I want to respond to it with the same glee that overtakes me when I pick up academic books at the library. (Oo! "The Ethnography of Reading"! Oo! "Faith and Narrative!" Oo! Oo!) After thinking about it, crying a little with
sen_no_ongakulast night, and talking for most of the evening, I came to a few realizations.It's not that I dread the classes. When I think about taking classes this fall, I'm excited and curious--I can't wait for the first week, to sort through syllabi and see what comes up, to check out reading lists and start poking at the topics. Whenever I think just about what's coming up, I'm eager to start.
What is upsetting me is my current work, or rather, my inability to get it all done and ready. My Second Planting isn't ready yet! I want to be the fool in the field, and yank up the seedlings to help them grow...I want to have it all done and ready by equinox, and that's simply not possible.
It reminds me of the same dreariness that tends to overtake me in my second year of a job. I don't manifest anticipation and joy for the future, because I'm so aware of the undone work of the past.
But life doesn't fall into neat parcels, with each new event tidily packaged and all loose ends tied up in between. There are no chapter breaks, as much as I love narrative. And therefore, one of my hardest lessons is to keep at a good work, even under the weight of unfinished projects or past mistakes.
It is the second day of the long walk: muscles complaining about yesterday's travel and the landscape losing its novelty--but never its beauty. There will soon be the second wind and the rush of momentum. I have to be a Janus, looking forward and hungry for the new semester, and looking backward to accept and continue the work that isn't yet ready.
