There is a modernized philosophy about life that I have taken to heart. I have found it in "The Artist's Way" and "The Alchemist" to name a couple of
occurrences, but it is more prolifically abundant than just the two. The concept is about actualizing your destiny. Once you determine your path and are faithful to it, The Universe, or God, or Fate, or whatever you choose to call it, determines that you are worthy to be rewarded for your participation in the greater tapestry. It is a concept that, should everyone actualize their purpose, the universe would flow without obstacle and hindrance. In other words, when you are on your path, The Universe helps you stay there because it recognizes that you are one of the good guys.
Getting there, however, takes work and a thorough demonstration of your commitment to your path. This could be
re-described as persistence. It could be interpreted as the lucky opportunity that got your foot in the door. It is the courage and heart to stand facing the uncertainty of your future and say "Universe, I am ready."
The path is hard. The path is full of doubt, demons, and obstacles both external and self-inflicted. My demons number in the thousands. The wickedest of these whispers in my ear, even now, that I am not numbered amongst the worthy. It is getting easier to tune her out.
When I am open to my path my photography shifts and changes. She reminds me, with a sudden gasp for air, that she must be allowed to evolve, to grow, to change, and that trying to capture the same image that I captured yesterday is not only suffocating her, but denying my path. Because of this there is a part of me that thought she was my purpose. I didn't really understand that you needn't limit yourself to one medium, to one voice.
In some ways I wanted to teach because I am worried about the path. I am worried that Fate will betray me and I will be left a quivering mass of blackened failure, my photo spirit dead beside me as I clasp to the cultural trappings that define success that I have also squandered. Fate can have a funny way of slashing your throat when you hug her close.
Part of me, however, has always wanted to teach. The part that eagerly answers my friends' questions regarding life, photography, how to clean a garbage disposal. One of my best friends calls me his Life Coach. I take it as the highest compliment. I want desperately to be helpful. I want to spread knowledge. To me it is not unlike handing out bread at the soup kitchen or walking around the shelter on Christmas Eve with a pitcher of water providing the indigent whatever they need, where they don't need to procure it for themselves. That sounds too righteous, but if you have ever done something of that nature, you will hopefully understand my meaning. It is not self-serving in the least. It becomes something entirely different.
Because of this alternate nagging voice, one that still wants me to succeed, and perhaps still has faith that I can, I poked and prodded the Provost looking for employment at Brooks. I wanted desperately to be an educator, true, but to be an educator at the institution to which I owe my photographic rebirth was the greatest prize. I spoke to anyone and everyone who could offer me any sense of guidance. As you know from my previous blogs, I got the job. I am not going to suggest that I got the job due to the aforementioned great will and
perseverance. In fact, I think that I got the job because The Path saw that I was straying and gave me a kidney punch to get back in line.
The reason I believe this is because the last four days have been sheer joy. When I last wrote I was terrified. Worried they wouldn't respect me, concerned about my abilities, my knowledge. Could I control the classroom? Could I inform them of something they didn't know? Could I help them succeed? Indeed, would I succeed? I didn't have much of a choice beyond gathering my materials and facing the moment in which I would face my future. It was the moment of do or die, sink or swim, school or be schooled.
As I sat in the classroom, which I had entered almost a solid hour in advance, I brought up my website, looked over my notes, tried to log in to the school computer system, failed, became nervous, and again forced myself to breathe. I was expecting them all to be late. I was certainly not expecting three of them to be early.
The first student through the door walked straight up to me with his hand extended, said hello, and told me his name. He had a
Cheshire grin that splits his face every day in class. He is currently my top student. The other two behind him were of equally good spirits and gracious
demeanor. They are a gift. They are making my introductory experience not only positive, but life altering. I am unable to contain my enthusiasm at teaching them for the next six weeks, and in some senses already melancholy that it will soon be over. Too soon. They have made such a positive impression that no matter what happens in courses to come I will always have my first class, my baptism, my wondrous angels. Universe, God, Destiny...thank you.
