Good (wee-hours-of-the-) morning, dear reader. Thank you for joining me on this insomnia fueled ramble. I thought I should tell you about a moment today when I managed to surprise myself. Yes, I know, you could tell that from the title of the entry, couldn’t you? What can I say, it’s after midnight, and I’m not necessarily firing on all thrusters at the moment.
Anyway, I recently started a second blog for professional development. It will mostly be essays and entries regarding the intersection of educational best practices, technology and Internet developments, and computer geekery. For example, the first entry that I wrote is an explanation of an application for Mac OS X that I wrote last week. The next entry I’m planning concerns my concept of education and why many curricula today are much less efficient than they should be.
But the surprise wasn’t in an entry. Rather, is was found in one of the small sidebar elements that contains my contact information. As I was filling it out, I added some supplementary text that reads, “Have a question about one of the articles on this blog? Interested in further discussion? Do you need a conference speaker or a trainer for your staff?”
Let’s take a look at that last sentence, shall we? Did I just offer to speak at a conference? Yes, apparently I did. On one hand, this is not particularly groundbreaking. I have spoken at more than two dozen conferences and training sessions across the region over the past three years. On the other hand, I had a tongue for each of those occasions. Yet as I was setting everything up, the offer to speak seemed like a natural thing to include. It didn’t really hit me until several hours later, and I thought, “Wow, what if someone were to email me about a conference? Wouldn’t that be . . . different.”
Yes, it was a surprise. And I think there are two ways I can look at this. The first is that I have still not accepted my current plight, that I am still somewhere in the early stages of grief, and that none of this is real to me yet. I don’t believe this to be true. The second – and much more hopeful – interpretation is that, even subconsciously, I am refusing to allow my current condition to interfere with my life. I am pushing forward, fighting to maintain the same life I had a year ago. Suffice it to say, I am much more fond of the second interpretation.
That second interpretation is reinforced by a dream that has become recurring over the past couple of weeks. If I remember correctly, I’ve had the dream four times now. Much of the details are vague; I’m in a room, there are people there, a conversation is being had. About these elements, I can be no more specific than that. However, there is one strikingly vivid part of the dream, and that is what is taking place inside my mouth. As the conversation continues, I find that I want to participate, but I am having difficulty communicating. So I close my eyes (and at this point, the point-of-view in the dream shifts; now I am seeing everything as though through a camera placed at the back of my throat and pointed out the front of my mouth) and concentrate on my tongue. I pull, slowly at first, but forcefully, upward with it. Gradually, the edges begin to peel away from the bottom of my mouth where they were sutured. The edges rip a little, but there isn’t really any pain. Slowly, more of my tongue is freed until, at last, it has been completely liberated from its restraints. It isn’t quite like a normal tongue; it is not smooth and moist. It’s more like something out of a Stan Winston catalog; it is lumpy, variegated, and dry.
But it is functional. I can move it. And with it I can speak. Once I have freed it from bondage, I am able to communicate much more clearly.
Yes, I realize that the situation I have described is only infinitesimally possible. But the scenario for which it is a metaphor is far more possible. And I choose to believe in it. Which I’ll tell the audience the next time I speak at a conference.
Until next time, dear friends, take care of each other.
It is a great art to laugh at your own misfortune. – Danish proverb
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Post-script: I would be remiss if I failed to mention the passing of Senator Kennedy. To borrow from myself:
Remembering Senator Kennedy, and noting that he passed on the eve of 89th anniversary of the day the 19th Amendment went into effect (giving women the right to vote). Let us celebrate a career of women’s rights, civil rights, and economic and health legislation, a career dedicated to fighting for all those who needed a champion.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Domine:
Dona eis requiem. Amen.
