Refreshed...

Sam Intrator once wrote in his article Teachers: The Heart of Education, if teachers are not well, their students cannot be well. Over the past few years of my emerging teaching career I have not always been well. There were glimmers of hope and inspiration from time to time, but I was often not well and not living the balanced life I wanted to live. Slowly, I stopped doing the things I loved. I stopped walking, reading, socializing, and writing. I taught and that was it. As amazing as teaching can be, it wasn't enough. I was no longer whole.

Luckily, I had the opportunity to participate in the Yellowstone chapter of the National Writing Project this summer. In fact, the institute just ended today. It was just the salve I needed to help me be well as a teacher and as an individual. The intense collaboration and interaction with my 16 fellow writers and teachers made me well. I can write again and plan on doing so every day! Writing, after all, is what helps me shape my perspective and experiences. It helps me laugh, reflect, and sometimes cry at any given moment. The Writing Project helped me find this again.

So... I'm going to muse about my wandering spirit and adventures once again, trying desperately not to fall off the wagon. More than anything this space is my accountability for my own writing challenge and my effort to support The Project's philosophies. Thank you NWP and YWP. I owe you a great deal.

A Wandering Spirit???

It was over a cold brew and a good conversation with my two favorite bachelors that I first explored the concept of a "wandering spirit." At that point in time, I was one year out of college and trying to survive my second year of teaching in a tiny mountain town (less than 500 folks big) nestled in the Tobacco Root Mountains.

That night, we were sitting in my friend's weaving studio, located on a two-block main street that looked like it came straight out of a magazine from the 1950s. We were trying to solve the problems of the world and were shaking off the last part of a long week. Soon the conversation drifted off to different types of people and thier personalities. We eventually decided that there should be a category of personalities named "the wandering spirits" and that the three of us would definitely fall into it.

Now, I don't remember the original definition that we came up with-- there was a lot of brew involved that night-- but I do remember that we thought the term did a really good job of describing us and how we ended up in this little one-horse-town west of the Mississippi. I also remember really liking the term and connecting to it. It somehow gave me a sense of peace about myself, a sense of belonging, and it reminded me of the wanderlust that carried me so many miles from home.

Now, two years later, I find myself somewhere new (go figure), and missing those Friday night happy hours with my fellow wandering spirits. I miss those deep conversations about life, love, and happiness. I miss playing "brain-pong" with some of the locals, listening to stories from those who had seen and done far more than me, and I really miss being surrounded by the idea of having to "make our own culture" to survive some of the tougher moments of small-town life. Those moments helped me feel whole and connected when feeling whole and connected seemed impossible. Those moments also taught me a great deal about what is really important and what's not. And, of course, they reminded me to have fun.

In an effort to pay tribute to my fellow wandering spirits, other dear friends, and to the lessons learned during the magical time I spent in that little mountain town, I've decided to create this blog. I'm also hoping it will serve as a reminder to me of what's really important and that it will help sustain the wanderlust, independence, and spontaneity that has become so central to my being.