Writing is my artistic expression. My keyboard is my brush. Words are my medium. My blog is my canvas. And committing to writing daily makes me feel like an artist.
The views were spectacular and I connected with a friend whom I’ve mostly known online, in meetings, and at conferences. Yet every time we connect I feel like I’m with a lifelong friend. The one difference… each time we connect I learn something new about him.
We all have past experiences that are stories from another era in our lives. It’s easy to dismiss them as ancient, to share them as if they were ‘in a past life’. But these stories are the stories that made us. They are the stories that created the person we are today.
Sometimes people can get stuck on who they ‘used to be’ and I don’t think that’s healthy. But it’s also not healthy to reflect on those past experiences like they belong to someone else.
I’m no longer an athlete. Even when I was one, I was a hard working grunt, not a talented athlete… but I was still an athlete. I take care of myself now, but I’m no athlete, and honestly unlikely to be one ever again. But the skills I learned, the work ethic, the sportsmanship, the dedication to something I loved doing… those things I take with me to the edge of forever.
The scenery today was great, but learning more about my friend was even better.
Four years. Not 3 or 6 months, not even 1 year, four. I started my fitness journey with a calendar on January 1, 2019. This was my reflection after a year. The path has been a tiny bit bumpy, but overall extremely consistent and without any significant injury as a result of my fitness regimen.
So often people (including me in the past) go on fitness binges and/or eating diets. It’s a race to see results. And while results can come from these brief attempts to improve, unrealistic fitness plans and unsustainable diets eventually lead to a point where they can’t be sustained.
I’m not trying to run ultra marathons or have a bodybuilder physique. I’m actually going to let myself let loose and eat a bit more gluttonous while on vacation. But I’m also going to find time to exercise, I’m going to return home and be more thoughtful about my diet after my vacation. I’m going to keep playing the long game and not worry about minor fluctuations in my schedule. Because while there will be fluctuations, I’m going to keep a schedule of writing, meditation, and exercise. I’m not looking for quick gains, I’m just working on staying on a healthy path, knowing positive results are still to come… in time. Perseverance and the long game are the path I’m on.
I’ve had some physical challenges this year, and still have a long path of recovery, but on reflection I really haven’t been playing the long game I spoke about in December. This year I decided I didn’t need my tracking calendar any longer.
I tracked 4 goals with this calendar for 4 years, 2019-2022, and saw small improvements every year. This year I stopped. I believed the patterns were built. I thought I would maintain my commitments without needing a tracker.
I was wrong.
So I will start again this weekend. I’ll pick up a calendar and track the last 6 months of the year. My 4 positive habits this year will be 3 oldies:
1. Workouts: 20 min. cardio, stretching, and strength training for at least one muscle group.
2. Meditation: 10 min. minimum, and a second sticker if I exceed 20 minutes.
3. Daily writing here on Daily-Ink.
And I’m going to add something new this year.
4. At least 20 min. of writing that isn’t for my blog.
For this last goal, I’m going to shoot for 26 days, or one day a week for the rest of the year… An admittedly low bar, but still 26 more times that I will have written beyond blogging without this goal! I know that while I watch almost no TV and no sports, I still waste time watching a screen (my phone), and I think like the other goals, tracking will inspire me to build and maintain the habit. I want to write more, I haven’t been writing… let’s see if I can develop the habit.
I realize that in playing the long game, gains are slow. I don’t see quick results and I’m not rewarded explicitly for good behaviour and good habits. I need my calendar to keep me honest. I need it to motivate me when I just don’t feel like working out, and to prevent me from skipping days and building bad habits.
I know the calendar motivates me. I know it shows me when I need to metaphorically ‘pull up my socks’ and avoid ‘no dot’, and ‘one dot days‘. And so starting today my calendar shall be resurrected. It’s time to resume effectively playing the long game.
Although I’ll be working next week, today is the last day of school with staff. It’s always a day that feels melancholy for me. I’m grateful for the approaching summer, but it’s a final farewell to a year that feels more significant than a December 31st year-end celebration.
It was a challenging year for me on many fronts, but mostly health-wise. I shared this recently in my email newsletter to students and their parents:
After a couple months of working in pain every day, I took most of May off with a herniated disc in my neck, which was pinching a nerve going down my left arm. The good news is that I’m almost completely pain free now and my discomfort level is quite low. The challenging thing is that combined with a few other absences this year, I missed more work this year than I probably have in all the other 24 years that I’ve been an educator. Many of you have heard me speak of how challenging absences are at Inquiry Hub, and how good attendance has a direct correlation to overall success… and unfortunately I got to live the consequences of missing a lot of school first hand. I am so thankful for the team that I work with, and I appreciate how much added work they covered in order to keep the experience so positive for our students.
Add covid which, while not herniated disc painful, left me with a week-long low grade headache in November, and a nasty flu in January that knocked me on my butt worse than covid did, and it seemed to me the year was all about being sick or recovery and catch up. I didn’t mention the loss of my father in the message above, but that also happened while dealing with the physical pain.
I’ll be glad to wrap things up next week. All that said, there is a lot of positives to appreciate. Our grads got into the programs they wanted. Planning for next year has me excited about the year ahead. And while I am having some residual issues with the nerves in my arm from the herniated disc, I’ve been pain free for 3+ weeks.
My left arm is weak, and sometimes uncomfortable, but discomfort is so much better than constant pain. My heart goes out to people with chronic pain. I had just over 3 months of it, and working every day for over 2 months in agony before taking time off was brutal… I can’t imagine what life is like for those that live with daily pain and don’t get to feel the relief I now feel.
This gives me perspective, and makes me feel lucky, despite the challenging year I had. I get to look forward to a summer of recovery and revitalization, not of choosing between being in pain or being so medically intoxicated that I don’t want to do, can’t do, anything productive. I get to look forward and see positive things in my future.
But today is melancholy. Today is about saying goodbye. Goodbye to colleagues, and goodbye to the school year. It’s the final countdown to a year I don’t ever want to repeat. I need to focus on expressing my appreciation to my staff for being more supportive of me than I feel I was to them this year… and I hope to make up for that next year!
I really try to live by the mantra, ‘The meaning of your communication is the response you get’. It puts the burden of my clear communication solely on me. When someone misunderstands or misinterprets my communication, it’s not their fault, it’s mine… I could have been more clear, more concise, more thoughtful.
I had a written conversation with a colleague recently that didn’t go as I had planned. When I saw the misunderstanding, I tried to explain. But I came from a defensive stance about what I really meant. I didn’t think about what their response really meant. I worried too much about clarifying and not enough about understanding.
“This is what I meant to say,” does not repair what was said and interpreted incorrectly. Not usually. In a way it’s doubling down, it’s saying, “You were wrong in your interpretation.” It’s not saying, “I messed up in my communication.”
It’s a minor shift, simple to see after the fact, but delicately difficult to communicate in a response to what was clearly my poor communication. I didn’t get the response I wanted, thus I didn’t communicate well. If that’s my premise, then what I need to do is listen to their response, and communicate about that, not what I meant to say.
It’s a subtle shift. Not an easy one, but an important one.
It’s a price I pay as an educator. It doesn’t matter how many positive things happen in a school year, I always feel a little regret at the end of the year. I wanted the year to be more. I wanted it to be better. I wanted to make a greater contribution. I wanted to have more impact.
Twenty five years into my career, and I’ve felt this every year. This year it stings a bit more because my health issues made me miss a lot of school. But I also know this is just me being hard on myself. I know that if things were 100 percent better and I hit every goal I had, I would still feel subtle regret that I didn’t set my targets high enough.
Yesterday a grad came by with flowers, and a card, and a card from their parent. Both cards shared thanks for four amazing years in a school that gave them an opportunity that they felt they couldn’t get anywhere else. That’s heartwarming. And yet this morning I’m lamenting about what else could have been done.
This isn’t me feeling depressed. This isn’t me fishing for compliments. It’s me wondering who else feels this at the end of the school year?
In reality, I don’t want this ‘subtle’ feeling to go away, (that said I also don’t want it to be more pronounced). I actually want this small feeling at this time of year. It doesn’t sadden me as much as it drives me. It makes me think a bit about the potential of next year. It fuels me and inspires me to think bigger, to be excited about what’s possible. It’s kind of like the feeling of coming in second in a competition, you aren’t thrilled, but you had a god season, and now you are excited about next season.
Maybe it’s possible to garner that excitement without the subtle regret? Maybe it could happen where you feel like you won the season and you want to create back-to-back winning seasons? Perhaps that’s possible. But unlike a sports season, a school year doesn’t have a trophy, and there are always things about the year that could have been better.
So, I’ll take the subtle regret. It won’t make me sad, but it will make me want to make next year better… and I really believe it will be.
I was reflecting on retirement yesterday, and then today I listened to a podcast that mentioned we only live for about 4,000 weeks. We are lucky when it’s more, and when I consider that I’ve passed 2,800 weeks, it makes me appreciate all of the time I have left. This isn’t sad, it’s factual. And the fact is that every week, every day matters.
We’ve all had those weeks that fly by feeling like we’ve done no more than what needed to be done: Eat, sleep, work, repeat… with a few distractions along the way. And we’ve all had weeks that have felt special, even when the regular routine was all that was really done. What’s the difference?
Good conversations, acts of kindness, a delicious meal, a hug, a good laugh, or even a quiet moment of contemplation can help make an ordinary week a little more special. It would have been easy to use the word extraordinary rather than special, but that would be dishonest.
The reality is that it’s hard to live a life where every week is extraordinary. That said, it can be too easy to live a life where weeks just disappear, one less week to live, then another, then another. Every week doesn’t have to be exceptional, just well lived… well lived, not poorly wasted.
It’s fun to plan ahead for the future, but the time to enjoy life is now! Because we really don’t know how many weeks we have left, and so each week we do have is precious.
Last night I went to our district principal’s retirement celebration. This was the first time I went to this yearly event while actually thinking about my own retirement on the horizon. I still have at least a few more years to go, but I have to say that seeing this event from the lens of my own retirement was a unique experience.
I don’t know what I’ll do with my time when I retire, but talking to the retired folk at last night’s celebration, not too many of them seem to feel they have more time on their hands than they know what to do with. I know I won’t fully retire, I will find some way to continue working, even if it’s just dedicating more time to writing.
What I do know is that I still see things I can do to make a difference in my current job, and looming retirement or not, I have a job to do and it takes effort to do it well. Still, it’s fun to dream about what the next adventure could hold, and I’m looking forward to that horizon a little more than I have in the past.
I remember teaching Grade 6/7’s about Nigerian fables. One of them was about a greedy animal during hard times. All the animals had collected food and stored it in a clearing to share, but each night some of the food went missing. To catch the culprit they put tar around the food and the thief got caught in it. The next day after an apology the other animals started trying to pull the animal out. He was extremely stuck and they yanked so hard that they stretched this animal and ripped of its legs.
The fable is about not being greedy, but the title is something like, “How snakes came to be.” I love when the moral is not explicit in the storytelling.
I got thinking about this for a totally different reason, one I’m far more explicit about in my title… the idea of getting unstuck. Sometimes we absolutely have to step out of our current experience in order to see what’s possible beyond where we currently are.
The saying, ‘No matter where you go, there you are,’ has come up a few times recently in conversation. This is only true if you let it happen, if you stay inside of the tiny box you put around yourself. There are people who travel all around the world and they look forward to seeing a Macdonald’s, Burger King, or Starbucks. They look to keep their world the same. But travel can give you so much more than that. There are people who keep friends that aren’t nice to them, who dismiss an entire genre of music, who stick to a plan and never take side adventures. None of these people might see themselves as stuck but they are.
For me personally, I’ve been stuck in pain and/or drowsiness for a couple months and while I’m slowly recovering, I am also stuck in the way my days go. I’m not following any healthy routines to consistently workout or meditate. I can still ride a stationary bicycle without causing any harm to the bulged disc in my neck. Meditation would actually be great right now and I’ve let my daily habit slip.
I’m going through slow (admittedly often dizzy) motions of the day waiting for moments of clarity, but when they come I don’t necessarily take advantage of them. I need to see beyond my current condition. I need to see what I what to accomplish in the future and I need to do things now to support that. I need first to have goals that I want to achieve beyond where I am now, then I need to move towards those goals.
Sometimes it only takes baby steps, sometimes it takes a massive leap. But you don’t get unstuck thinking ‘No matter where you go, there you are’. The issue with this is not about geography, it’s about moving who you are to who you want to be.
I’ve spent most of the last few weeks in an altered state. My herniated disc is almost always on my mind. The meds have numbed most of the pain, but I’m often feeling like my head is not screwed on tight enough. The description I use is ‘loopy’ which I describe as somewhere between mildly drunk and mildly high. The challenge is that I don’t really enjoy this state, and I find it hard to concentrate. It’s not a feeling I enjoy.
Even writing my Daily Ink has been challenging with me often putting these short posts away for a while and coming back to them. I end up doing a lot of edits… like making this new thought into a new paragraph and breaking a stream of consciousness run-on sentence up in the previous paragraph. I also used a wrong word (probably a typo) and I’m struggling to make sense of what I actually wanted to say… the sentence no longer having any meaning for me.
At least I’m no longer adding to the altered state with (legal in BC, Canada) marijuana gummies , which I was supplementing my pain meds with to manage my pain between pills. As much as I don’t enjoy the loopy feeling now, I enjoyed it less when I had to numb myself to doldrums of constant pain.
New meds that I started Friday night are leaving me with windows of clarity I haven’t had for a while, but also reintroduce new levels of ache and discomfort (verging on pain) that I thought I was free of on the more loopy medication.
Overall… I think I’m on the mend, but I am not there yet. I’m now dealing with feelings I know I should let go of, but struggle with. Feeling that I should start catching up on work, feelings that I will be in recovery for a very long time. Feelings that I’m wasting away life in a loopy altered state. I’m on the mend, I’m in the mend, I’m on the mend… that is what I need to focus on, loopy altered state or not.
I connected with a cousin yesterday. The last time I saw her was at my sister’s wedding 25 years ago. I saw her at 16 and then not again until 41. She’s married, has an 8 year old son, and has been working at the same company for 20 years.
I grew up surrounded by cousins. A typical Friday night at my grandparents could be a gathering of 16-20 with half of them being kids. A couple cousins who didn’t live in the province would come and visit for 4-6 weeks in the summer. As we grew up, we saw less and less of everyone. Then I took off from Toronto to Vancouver 30 years ago so rarely see any cousins including, (I must admit embarrassingly), one who only lives a 45 minute drive away.
When I consider how many really great cousins, aunts, and uncles I have, it makes me a bit sad that I’m not as connected to them as I used to be. I also appreciate that I had such a rich experience growing up surrounded by cousins. Not everyone has that opportunity.
