Every Note, A Warble, Every Strum, A Synergy (355)

Reflection day. 355 days of writing. I forget sometimes to post live, but I write every day. I write creatively, purposefully, reflectively. Sometimes it comes out metaphorically or thematically. Others straight forward and precise. Each day, I get out of the way and just write. Some days lots of edits, others it just flows out like cooling lava- creating new land. Creating a new landscape for my thoughts.

I can't believe that we are nearing the end of 2020. I do not plan on not writing every day in 2021. I just won't be so thoughtful in posting a daily narrative. I will start focusing on my books. I have ideas circulating, forming, adhering to my mind. They are unfolding. They have a solid hum going. The warble echo of dreams colliding with phrases landing upon my wave of sound.

It takes time to believe in yourself. To trust your voice for a longer piece of prose. I write blogs after all- what makes me think I can write a book, or two. I finally have added a contribution to other peoples books. I guess that means I am published. But I have to get my name on the cover. I need to share my experience. I have had great classrooms, horrible administrations. I have had horrible classrooms and supportive teams. 

Yet, as Green Day says "I am still breathing." I am still forging ahead willingly into the arena of education on a daily basis. Lucky enough to be able to do so in person and virtually. I have always felt like I have been in a sprint- but recently I have settled into a marathon. But one with out a ribbon to cross or cheering fans. I just know that the endurance I have built up over these last twenty years- is enough.

Now I can share my knowledge. And for this I am hopeful, excited, and down right scared to death. But, without leap does not come fall. Without fall does not come landing safely into the water- a plunge into such a vast ocean of opportunity. Without the dive- the plunge- there is only ripple and sometimes- sometimes we need the wave to carry us. We need the tide to rise and ebb, we need the sea grass to tickle our feet so we swim to the surface.

This is the warble and wobble of my existence. The constant switch between breath stroke and sink. But as of late- it is the float. Arms extended, letting the sunlight bathe me in optimism and strength. My legs on the edge, the precipice of water and depth- and together these actions of succumb, this lack of motion- has allowed me to find my air. Coming up for air. My book.