November 22, 2007
I sit at my desk while morning meeting starts. Teachers take turns giving morning announcements and while I understand about 1 % of all of what is being said (this is even after 2 months of studying nearly every day) I still feel a comfortable sense of peace and tranquility. I'm blissfully ignorant. My desk faces the windows leading outside and while the blinds are closed and everything is shut to preserve what little warmth we have, streaming from an electric heater, there's about a 1x1 ft. area open in one window, where the blinds are barely drawn and daylight can be seen.
I can see out my window that today is a strange weather day. I see pines in the furthest part of the frame, few that are still changing colors from the fall - tans, browns and late bloomer greens are frosted with the first snow of the winter season. In the sunlight, the flakes that appear are thick and fluffy. They have a unified personality, which is preserved in their calm, Buddhist-like demeanor. A pleasant snow, where flakes float rather than fall and if you were only to look for a moment, they might fool you into thinking they were suspended in air for that moment.
It's 3 degrees today.... Celsius that is -- still warm, about 31 degrees Fahrenheit, which isn't so bad. Enough to enjoy my scarf and new gloves...I may or may not be a scarf guy now. I'm a Peacoat away from becoming a walking L.L. Bean add in Japan... but that my be a little far off yet. As winter settles in, I realize I need better sox and may think about wearing long underwear every day. When you walk or bike to work in the winter, you need something I guess.
No wind and heavy snow makes for a good moment. I think about this moment and I break it down: it's 8:25 AM on Thursday, 4:25 PM on Wednesday in Denver, the day before Thanksgiving. The chances of getting a turkey here are 0 and my first real American Holiday away from home has quickly come and will soon be gone. I'm not sad or nostalgic, though I may be tomorrow.
It's a strange and difficult balance being here. It's either a cluster of moments that rush you through train stations, Izakias or lesson plans and those moments take no prisoners. They may get caught if you remember to get your camera or moll skin journal out, amidst all the excitement and lack of understanding.
This bombardment of fast paced memories is conversely rivaled by these tiny snippets of time, that remind you who and where you are. This particular snippet is representing itself in the form of snow. Each flake, barely moves and in its stillness, almost seems to slow down time. It reminds me that whether here, or at home, this moment will never come again. Therefore it is my job/duty to the better part of my soul, to try to preserve it, simply with a memory and a promise to forever welcome this awareness in the future. And just maybe, hopefully, it will visit me again soon.
I can see out my window that today is a strange weather day. I see pines in the furthest part of the frame, few that are still changing colors from the fall - tans, browns and late bloomer greens are frosted with the first snow of the winter season. In the sunlight, the flakes that appear are thick and fluffy. They have a unified personality, which is preserved in their calm, Buddhist-like demeanor. A pleasant snow, where flakes float rather than fall and if you were only to look for a moment, they might fool you into thinking they were suspended in air for that moment.
It's 3 degrees today.... Celsius that is -- still warm, about 31 degrees Fahrenheit, which isn't so bad. Enough to enjoy my scarf and new gloves...I may or may not be a scarf guy now. I'm a Peacoat away from becoming a walking L.L. Bean add in Japan... but that my be a little far off yet. As winter settles in, I realize I need better sox and may think about wearing long underwear every day. When you walk or bike to work in the winter, you need something I guess.
No wind and heavy snow makes for a good moment. I think about this moment and I break it down: it's 8:25 AM on Thursday, 4:25 PM on Wednesday in Denver, the day before Thanksgiving. The chances of getting a turkey here are 0 and my first real American Holiday away from home has quickly come and will soon be gone. I'm not sad or nostalgic, though I may be tomorrow.
It's a strange and difficult balance being here. It's either a cluster of moments that rush you through train stations, Izakias or lesson plans and those moments take no prisoners. They may get caught if you remember to get your camera or moll skin journal out, amidst all the excitement and lack of understanding.
This bombardment of fast paced memories is conversely rivaled by these tiny snippets of time, that remind you who and where you are. This particular snippet is representing itself in the form of snow. Each flake, barely moves and in its stillness, almost seems to slow down time. It reminds me that whether here, or at home, this moment will never come again. Therefore it is my job/duty to the better part of my soul, to try to preserve it, simply with a memory and a promise to forever welcome this awareness in the future. And just maybe, hopefully, it will visit me again soon.
1 comment:
Kyle, we're sending the warmest thoughts your direction. Can you feel them? Thinking of you on Thanksgiving. I saw your Mom the other day. She is hilarious. Sabrina, Cole and Scott say Hi! I hope your shoes et. al. fit! Be well.
--Eileen, Scott, Sabrina and Cole
2007-11-22 19:16:43 GMT
We missed you so much on Thanksgiving, however, we all helf hands and gave thanks for you! Enjoy the peaceful snow, the sun will soon shine again.
--HH
2007-11-26 16:23:20 GMT
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