Spring has sprung, flowers bloom, I am still wondering about various things. I've had a cleansing fever though. A week ago I just threw in the towel and said to my fatigue "Alright. You win." I went to bed. For a week. And burned up a lot of stuff. Now I am contemplating returning to the living, but I've gotta tell you, it doesn't look good. There's my train ticket to the writing conference to buy. My lost driver's license to replace. I've gotta pick a section from my novel to read at a gathering of people I've never met before on Saturday. And no one is signed up for my free Creative Speech workshop at the co-op. Free! I know it's the recession, but, uh... the workshop's free! A lot depends on people coming to this workshop. If they don't, then that means that money is not the issue. That means it's me. Or an example of me and the world not meeting. And there is entirely too much of that happening already, spirit world. Hey. Give me a break.
I am on the cusp of something big in my novel, and I keep not jumping it. So maybe if everything else dies, I'll be forced to do so. Boy these earthly obstacles courses are hard going. I would like very much to know just what my standing is in the race. You know, the racehorses get certain odds before they break out of the gate. Of course, the odds never have much to do with how they do, and the favorite never wins. So maybe knowing my odds would not be very helpful after all.
There are several things for which I am grateful. One is that I learned at the Anthroposophia conference in April that Saul Bellow was an anthroposophist. Wow. A real American novelist who read and studied Rudolf Steiner's work. Of course, he read and understood a whole lot more stuff, if you take Humboldt's Gift to heart. Probably a hundred philosophical references in every chapter. But it's still readable and very wacky stuff. I am excited that there is at least one person drinking from that stream who succeeded in doing what I am trying to do, ie, write a novel. He wrote lots of them.
The other thing is that at this conference I met some amazing people. Believe it or not, they wanted to hear what I had to say. In fact, they hired me to speak the Foundation Stone Meditation. But no, they didn't just literally want to hear me speak Steiner's words. They wanted to hear what I had to say. They asked me to help shape the conference. They asked everyone who was there to do this. The conference was about Meeting. I guess meeting is the subject of this entry. Meeting. With regard to one's place of employment, the word meeting has become a dirty word. Sorry honey, I'll be late tonight-- another wretched meeting. From board rooms to faculty rooms, meeting is the one thing everyone hates. Why? Maybe because at a meeting, there is so little actual meeting. I mean the meeting that happens when one hand hits another and we clap. Isn't it awful when the hands don't quite meet? No snappy, clappy sound. Just silence and a silly-looking waving of hands in the air.
That is how I feel these days. I put myself out there, hoping the other hand will meet mine, and we'll make a clapping sound. But there is no answer. Sure, I can get all philosophical about it, and ask myself "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" That keeps me occupied for about a day. But then I answer my question. The sound of one hand clapping is Silence. Words not heard. Opportunity missed. It sucks.
I'm waiting to hear back from the Waldorf School if I got the bottom rung aftercare job for which I am way overqualified. This is the third job for which I have applied at this school. I don't think anyone else has applied. I'm wondering if they still will find a reason to not hire me. Not that I take it personally. Although there is one thing which might deter them from hiring me, they did take me on this year as a substitute and I've gone in many times. They assured me that they want to get to know me, that's all. There is a need for an aftercare teacher. Actually a need. And on my side, a wish to fill it. But that "not meeting" just keeps happening with such infallibility that I really wonder...
Maybe what I need to do is go out there looking, not for what I want, but for what is wanted of me. Maybe there is a hand out there, about to clap, just waiting for mine to meet it. Or maybe there is something important in that silence. I think that is actually it, but I hate it so much that I keep thinking there must be a way around it. Silence.
That's what we observe in Quaker meetings. It's interesting that in this silent period in life I have chosen to worship with silence lovers. Part of me wants that silence. Part of me insists. I suppose that part of me wishes to say something which can only be spoken into silence. Wishes to attune to what cannot be heard.
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