half an hour left
There is exactly a half an hour left in the work week. I am writing this from the classroom and am absolutely wiped out. I say this from time to time, and I will say it again for clarity: absolutely no one I know personally would be able to last one week doing the job that I do. I have no idea where or how I find the strength and patience to get through one day in this kind of work. I love the kids but the collective energy of dysfunction, disability and mental anguish from the adults is so profound, and the system so colossally perverse that by Friday (Good Friday at that) I am praying to simply not have some kind of medical event again.
And yet, I spend virtually no energy in attempting to change my situation. This is not resignation, I feel, but a tremendous and unshakable understanding that all of lives real issues exist in all human situations that are committed to reality, period. Therefore, when one has made the decision to be fully concious, one will be put through trials and situations that are magnetized to the individual who has made the decision to turn one's will and life over to the care and concious realization of the ultimate truth. Thus, the circumstances of one's life become a bizarre kind of boot camp of awakeness and awareness. Industrial Zen, as it were (to borrow the title of John Mclaughlin's new CD).
My path has been the harder path. Have I chosen this or rather am I in a state of acceptance that this is my life. No resistance whatsoever. My mind is in the process of complete letting go and this whole scenario, this drama, is the sturm and drang of the ego, shaking loose the last moorings of it's illusory, non-existent hold on my life. I have been given this unbelievable quality of restraint now that I could never have imagined before. Thereby not hurting anyone, myself most of all. Which is what I have been very good at.
The cacaphony cannot hurt me anymore. There is peace, always. The peace of God.