beware the ides (yes, I know it passed)
Today I was talking with my friend about how March is so long this year. She looked at me with an eyebrow raised and said, “it’s always long.” Which, yes, is definitely true, but I was talking about how it consists of five whole work weeks. I laughed because it really did sound like I thought March somehow had more than its regular thirty-one days. But really, it’s just that March is always a difficult month and this year feels a little bit worse.
I’ve been working in schools in many capacities for over a decade and I can say confidently that March is the worst month. Regardless of the specifics of any given schoolyear’s calendar, March brings with it frustration, grumpiness, and utter exhaustion. Do people in other professions feel this, too? I know that, at school at least, it’s a combination of being at the midway point of the semester (so close, yet so far from summer!) and the run-up to Spring Break (so much closer, yet so much farther!). At least in my district, March is often the only month of the schoolyear that doesn’t have a long weekend. Students and staff are burnt out and chugging along, ready for a breath of fresh air and a break.
And then, of course this year brings with it a whole new sense of frustration and desperation. For us, the last few weeks have been full of uncertainty regarding a return to physical school. It’s also been full of excitement as many of us are able to get our first vaccine shots. Emotions are high. Things are changing. And, good lord, we just need that break.
If you are feeling anything similar, I wish for you some time of self-care this week. Either the fun kind (face masks! Binging favorite shows! Getting outdoors!) or the necessary kind (making doctor’s appointments, talking to your therapist, crossing an important task off your to-do list). I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times, but it still bears repeating: you can’t pour from an empty cup.
prompt #34:
Pick up an object near you. Anything big or small, important or mundane. The practice today is focused on sustained observation and description.
Imagine this is your first time ever seeing this object or any like it. Explore it up close. Engage as many senses as you can. This prompt is, in essence, a practice of mindfulness.
Start that timer for two minutes and take a good long look at it. Then, set your timer once more for five minutes this time and write about everything you saw, noticed, thought, wondered. See what comes out of you.
ashley's piece:
Grandma had this fork for who knows how long. It’s such an elegant shape, I find myself running my fingers over the curvature again and again. To call them “curves” would sexualize the utensil a bit, but calling it “curvature” makes it sound like a car or architecture. In reality, I wouldn’t think of a fork as any of those things: sexy, auto, home. It lives its life fairly unobtrusively, yanked from the drawer, tossed in a lunchbag, scrubbed and set on the drying mat. As I examine it, my head keeps singing through that Little Mermaid song: “I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see, wanna see them dancing. Walking around on those-- what’s the word again? -- Feet!” Because the scene of her twirling her hair around a fork is indelibly etched into my mind; so funny and strange to see someone completely unaware of such a simple, obvious tool’s purpose. It was the first time, maybe, that I understood that my norm is not everybody’s. What a funny lesson to learn from a Disney cartoon.