Veronique Darwin

Sitting, Spinning

In My Writing, Teaching on October 13, 2013 at 9:49 pm

Teaching is my jumping off point for everything these days. It’s where my consciousness sits, the place from which I have crazy dreams. But two days into a three day weekend I can’t help thinking  I’m also a human being. I also have a life. I also have this blog.

I have a theme for this year, whether the kids or anyone knows it or not, and that theme is connections. I suppose it’s something I should have shared with them, the theme of the year, but there’s only so much I can do in a day. I use the theme of connections to teach reading, writing, geography, science, and to create a positive social climate in the classroom. It seems rational, that you can learn something better by tying it to what you know already, that you can understand something better by seeing what surrounds it.

I’m somewhere in the middle of my life right now, the spider at the middle of the web, and though all my things – teaching, and writing, and reading, – come from me and through me, I feel like I’ve lost my connection to them. I’m being pulled too far one way, remembering – after a month and a half of forgetting – that I really, really like to read. I’m  looking at my things through new eyes, recognizing faults in the plot structure of my second chapter and phoniness in the language used in yoga classes. I’m placing more intention in reading and writing because I’m doing them less but with more of a focused mind. I see their place in my life more clearly, as I’ve spun another part of my web, and I’m taking care not to cut their line, recognizing now their fragile nature.

I’m scared of losing my writing voice, my reading passion and the blind confidence I had for why I write. I’m scared I sound fake when talking about it, that it has become obvious it was never my first path. I define myself as a writer, a reader, but what can I tell you if you ask? I’m teaching, I’m teaching every day. I’m thinking about teaching all the time. Am I writing enough to be a writer? Reading enough to be a reader?

Is it okay to connect yourself to something you are not at the moment, but for which you feel a deep connection? Do people who live with God live always with him, whether they’re living piously at the moment? Do you live constantly with yourself, even if you fall asleep at night, even if you’ve lost control of your body or your mind?

I think the answers are resoundingly yes, are shouting at me from the screen: yes! Yes you are a writer and a reader because you are that, that is you. Because you believe so fundamentally in the importance of those things (don’t forget it), but you’re just negotiating the importance of something else, too. Something else new. And it doesn’t make other things lose their spot. Yes, time exists, but so do spider webs, and those can get considerably bigger, longer, more spacious. And though they get more fragile as they grow, they stay the same shape, always meeting at the middle where you sit, spinning your web.

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