JOURNAL: May 23, 2006

Yesterday, for some reason, I was able to focus on the present moment for most of the day, and as a result, I experienced some wonderful moments. Writing in the early morning, for instance, was exceptionally rewarding. I quietly concentrated my attention on the keyboard, thinking quietly, tapping the keys slowly, letting my thoughts lead the way. I felt something I rarely feel – that whatever I typed would be exactly what I should type. I felt a similar sense of rightness in some (though not all) of my classes. In the 8th grade classes, each moment appeared to be exactly right, true, real, and perfect. It wasn’t that I had planned a particularly good lesson, or that I was teaching in a particularly brilliant manner – just that I was intent on enjoying each thing as it came along. Instead of fussing over every moment to try to make it better, I allowed each moment to be its beautiful self. I was fortunate to also remember to do this in my one outdoor class, after lunch. It was another exquisite spring day, so my 9th graders and I took our chairs out to the garden and discussed a poem by Poe while feeling the warm wind ruffle our clothes. Nothing could have made those 45 moments any better. Each of our spoken words seem absolutely accurate, and each of my students, as I looked around at them, appeared to be sitting precisely where they should be, and in a perfect posture. I’m sure, as well, that the planet earth was spinning just way it should and going unerringly where it must.