Wednesday, September 26, 2012


At school yesterday, everything seemed especially peaceful, almost as though life was poised in a state of complete perfection. I don’t mean that everything happened exactly the way I wanted it to happen – just that whatever happened, whatever I heard or saw, whatever I felt or thought, seemed to be appropriate and proper. The universe seemed to be satisfied with itself yesterday. The trillions of years of existence had slowly spun around to September 25, 2012, and produced a day that could be nothing else but what it was. I saw this most especially in the look and feel of the air outside my classroom. Partly because of the constant, undisturbed music of the September insects, there was a sense of serenity in the air. It was as if an orchestra was playing one of Debussy’s softest melodies, right outside my room or wherever I happened to be. Whatever concerns or worries I had disappeared as soon as I turned my attention to the serenade of the insects. But it was more than just the softness in the air that made the day seemed so flawless. Somehow, throughout the day, all things seemed to be working together for good. Every word I spoke to my students seemed to be the picture-perfect one for that moment, and every word they spoke to me seemed full of a peculiar kind of wisdom. Even commonplace things appeared to carry surprising significance – a sailing leaf, a scrap of paper by the side of the walkway, a book left behind by a student. At school yesterday, an unspoiled light seemed to be shining around  everything, and I was blessed to be there to see it.

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