Into the caverns of Tomorrow, with just our flashlights and our Love, we must plunge, we must plunge
The dance, the dance, the dance, I can't get it out of my head or out of my heart. Normally so quiet, so shy and reserved, my soul just comes ALIVE when I'm with children; for this reason, I can NEVER let it go, no matter how intensely it haunts and seeks to destroy me - I would rather have a Dream, wasted on the way, than nothing, than nowhere, than an acceptance of Emptiness and Nothingness. I would rather be questing, long to be seeking, than heaping false and empty praises upon the fact that I have a 'roof over my head' and 'food in my guts.' These things, boiled down to their essence, are indeed what sustains us as human beings, I suppose, but to me they are nothing more than false gods and fake idols - a roof is not necessary if there are warm breezes and stars above, and the food is bestowed upon me wherever I go, whenever I go in Faith... And truly, there is an immense part of me that wants nothing more than to be able to Rest in whatever place, state, space [head or otherwise] that I am in, to simply accept that for what it IS, and let the rest run through my fingertips like so many grains of sand; yet Less Than Jake still reverberates through my head, as it did all those years ago: 'And sometimes I think I'm the only one who feels like goin' nowhere is like giving up, sometimes I think I'm the only one who feels like going...' Stuck so deeply within my guts, lodged there and embedded with hours upon hours and years upon years of aimless driving in circles (and we still drive these same streets, no matter how many thousands of miles I have gone since then...) - it is neurotic, psychotic, robotically disseminated, and no matter what I do, my neurons won't quit firing in these self-same pathways. Apparently I'm not doing it right; apparently I am not learning the lessons I am intended to, or else why would I keep having to come BACK here? I'm scared, so terrified, that this shall be all there is. That I have acquiesced to the Fear that my parents have bred within me, that if I do not have a plan specifico, no puedo salir a ningun otro lugar... pero ellos no saben que los personas, los MILAGROS, the serendipities are all THERE (they are not to be found on the internet)... I understand that they are scared for me, I understand that they fear for my whimsical, self-destructive and evasive loner-soul, truly, I do. Were I a parent, I don't think I would be able to do what they do, to let their child go off, time and time again, into the great wide Open with noo idea of what is to come. Truly. And yet... they must, and they know it... And I can only bless them for these things, and hold it deep within my Guts...
But as for now, everything is quiet and dead, save for the televisions of the house. As for now, I am left with memories of smiling faces and beautiful places, and my fingers curl out into nothing-air for a friend to grab onto them and not let go. I miss hugs; I have almost forgotten what they feel like (and that is perhaps a good thing). But as for now, I am working with two DI teams, one of which is doing a problem called Unidentified Moving Object, which consists of making devices that transport little objects from a 6-foot tall tower down into a pool [no water in da pool, as I've told the kidlets], and vice-versa - it shall be INCREDIBLY interesting; they are all little 3rd graders, but they all really wanted to do this one, so... I can only have faith in them, and encourage them the very best I can. The other team is doing the structure problem (my roots!!), and so... we'll see how THAT goes. Yes, they managed to pick the two most difficult problems there are, and I have strange thoughts that they'll go to States (especially the latter team), just because they are gonna be the BOMB and I'm going to [help] get them there. But yet again, even THIS is a negation of My Story, and I walk around on eggshells, in part, because I cannot tell anyone Why I Am Here. Mr. Cwayna popped his head into the classroom today, 'Oh! I thought you had left town...?' Yes, yes, I did... And he is the very one who has instituted the background checks that I cannot ever pass, and no matter HOW GOOD I AM WITH KIDS, I WILL ALWAYS BE A CRIMINAL TO YOU MOTHERFUCKERS. No matter how much they make my heart sing, no matter how much I can help them build up their self-esteem, get their brains working differently, better, more extravagantly... I will always be judged as such. And I try, and I try, and I try and I stumble and fall flat on my face trying to think of myself as anything BUT a criminal. I don't smoke anymore, and truly can't foresee myself doing it ever again. I am terrified to death of stealing, and have made a pact with Jah [that can't even be written down, 'cause it sends my heart into yet another flip-flop-drop to the bottom of my feet... I just PRAY], and so...
All I can do is hope. All I can do is pray. All I can do is try to continue moving through This, this most ultimate of heartbreaks. Ripped raw and bloody; I haven't had to CONFRONT the damage I've done to my life while in Asheville up until I came back here aGaIn - last time around, it was all about Mexico, Mexico, Belize, Belize, Guatemala, Guatemala, and the children, los ninos, los ninos. I had found a way to TEACH, albeit without the pay. But I WILL find a way - I have to, it's the only thing that keeps me going [I was near-about going to die while in Mexico; I wanted so fervently, nothing more than to end the pain, because the pain, I didn't think, would ever, ever end...]. I still feel like that, I still see no end in sight, I still cannot be content with what little I have (and truly, I have everything, the most basic of American Staples, and I should, I SHOULD be happy with them) - but I would feel more grateful for a backpack on my back and nothing more than my own wits, my flashlights, and my Love. that is the raw, etched-out, scrabbling bottom-line of it: like Jeremy and I would lament while at the bar in Philly (with a roof over our heads and Yuengling in our tummies) - it's hard to accept ThIs when you've been to Paradise. And yet, and yet, and yet... even if it takes 5, 10, 20 years - I will walk into schools 20 years from now, hopefully humbled, modest, but simultaneously proud as hell of the person I have become and the experiences I have had, the obstacles I've overcome and the extent to which my heart has healed and perhaps even grown wings, and I will look people in the eye and tell them....
My Story...
But as for now, everything is quiet and dead, save for the televisions of the house. As for now, I am left with memories of smiling faces and beautiful places, and my fingers curl out into nothing-air for a friend to grab onto them and not let go. I miss hugs; I have almost forgotten what they feel like (and that is perhaps a good thing). But as for now, I am working with two DI teams, one of which is doing a problem called Unidentified Moving Object, which consists of making devices that transport little objects from a 6-foot tall tower down into a pool [no water in da pool, as I've told the kidlets], and vice-versa - it shall be INCREDIBLY interesting; they are all little 3rd graders, but they all really wanted to do this one, so... I can only have faith in them, and encourage them the very best I can. The other team is doing the structure problem (my roots!!), and so... we'll see how THAT goes. Yes, they managed to pick the two most difficult problems there are, and I have strange thoughts that they'll go to States (especially the latter team), just because they are gonna be the BOMB and I'm going to [help] get them there. But yet again, even THIS is a negation of My Story, and I walk around on eggshells, in part, because I cannot tell anyone Why I Am Here. Mr. Cwayna popped his head into the classroom today, 'Oh! I thought you had left town...?' Yes, yes, I did... And he is the very one who has instituted the background checks that I cannot ever pass, and no matter HOW GOOD I AM WITH KIDS, I WILL ALWAYS BE A CRIMINAL TO YOU MOTHERFUCKERS. No matter how much they make my heart sing, no matter how much I can help them build up their self-esteem, get their brains working differently, better, more extravagantly... I will always be judged as such. And I try, and I try, and I try and I stumble and fall flat on my face trying to think of myself as anything BUT a criminal. I don't smoke anymore, and truly can't foresee myself doing it ever again. I am terrified to death of stealing, and have made a pact with Jah [that can't even be written down, 'cause it sends my heart into yet another flip-flop-drop to the bottom of my feet... I just PRAY], and so...
All I can do is hope. All I can do is pray. All I can do is try to continue moving through This, this most ultimate of heartbreaks. Ripped raw and bloody; I haven't had to CONFRONT the damage I've done to my life while in Asheville up until I came back here aGaIn - last time around, it was all about Mexico, Mexico, Belize, Belize, Guatemala, Guatemala, and the children, los ninos, los ninos. I had found a way to TEACH, albeit without the pay. But I WILL find a way - I have to, it's the only thing that keeps me going [I was near-about going to die while in Mexico; I wanted so fervently, nothing more than to end the pain, because the pain, I didn't think, would ever, ever end...]. I still feel like that, I still see no end in sight, I still cannot be content with what little I have (and truly, I have everything, the most basic of American Staples, and I should, I SHOULD be happy with them) - but I would feel more grateful for a backpack on my back and nothing more than my own wits, my flashlights, and my Love. that is the raw, etched-out, scrabbling bottom-line of it: like Jeremy and I would lament while at the bar in Philly (with a roof over our heads and Yuengling in our tummies) - it's hard to accept ThIs when you've been to Paradise. And yet, and yet, and yet... even if it takes 5, 10, 20 years - I will walk into schools 20 years from now, hopefully humbled, modest, but simultaneously proud as hell of the person I have become and the experiences I have had, the obstacles I've overcome and the extent to which my heart has healed and perhaps even grown wings, and I will look people in the eye and tell them....
My Story...