music poetry WRITING

Water Drop Too

Water Drop Too

Subtract two and there I was.

“Holy shit balls!” I thought to myself in the shower.

I’d been sitting at a table with teachers but only realized it when asking myself what was similar between them.

Some of us don’t fit into groups per se, so whenever I purposely place myself in one, I’ll later ask two questions. One, what about everyone seemed different, and two, what seemed the same?

This isn’t a big deal to anyone except me of course. It proved I’d manifested something I’d stopped talking about and in some ways given up on.

See, one of the teachers let us sit in her future living room, which was outside because the construction was only ten percent complete. She told us about how sixteen years ago she’d drawn up a dream blueprint with her husband, and how they decided during the pandemic to make her wish come true. It reminded me about the importance of visualization, and the perseverance required not to let it go. Being human, at some point in sixteen years she couldn’t have escaped the idea it would never happen.

Another teacher shared how she’d interned as a teacher for years before being able to obtain her credentials. To stick it out with the difference in pay over those years reminded me of the value of protecting and pursuing your passions.

One of the teachers I’ve talked with several times before. She has the heart of a child, and the sensitivity of a lucid and dying grandfather meeting his grandchild for the first and last time. Everything she sees and everything she speaks leads her to tear up, and while she remains open, she reminds me of the importance of not only our connections, but also the need to establish balance with energies that instinctively lead to tears.

I’m not a teacher, at least I didn’t see myself that way as I sat there listening to their stories and sharing my feedback.

But in the shower I considered it possible. Water beneath bridges makes anything possible.

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