it's the small moments

Sometimes awakenings are found in small moments. Big moments can slam you in the face, but small moments have power too, subtle power.

I am seeing the graduating class of 2012. I see them framed through a doorway. I am not part of that moment. I am part of that moment, with the champagne on my tongue, yet I couldn't do it fast enough to catch up.

I have been thinking all morning about who I am. I wanted to grab the time for speeches and captivate the audience with my stunning insights into the terrible beauty of studying, personal growth, the thankfulness and love and compassion that has grown in me the last three years. My thoughts wouldn't be caught, and my confidence was pinned to the chair. The speech went unspoken.

I wanted to say how I have not just learnt, I have become. Teaching is not a job, it is a lifestyle and that is what university has meant to me. It has been people, students and lecturers alike who have revealed myself to me and in turn let me reveal myself to the world in new ways.
Not always gentle these people have changed me forever. And I am grateful.

I wanted to say thank you. I have so much more gratitude now. I came thinking I would improve myself academically. When I leave I will know that I have instead grown as a person. Opened my mind for information and found so much more valuable learning.

I am not leaving yet. Not this year.

When I leave I will make a speech, or not. I think we all feel these small moments in their subtle pressure, in our hearts. Small moments may not always be spoken aloud, yet they exist.

This is a small piece that came into being as a draft a few weeks ago. It has sat as a draft for some time....but then, where better than to speak of small private moments than in a blog on the worldwideweb....hmmm ;)

Fear of the Blanks.

Write\\

Fear of a Blank page?

So write,
Write about the bills that
Sit and stare,
With beady eyes
And fangs to bite - so -
Write
About the list
As long as an arm
And twice as thick.
Write, so ,
In silence
When white noise is
Gnawing at your ear,
- as if you had a choice -
Write like your life
Depends,
To make amends
And then some.

Knock Knock...Who's There?

Children entered my life,
Without knocking.
Opened the doors
Like a tidal wave
Would.
Surging first through gaps,
To push with great weight
And intensity.
Insistent, rough and curly,
With a turgent
Rolling depth
Sucking violently at,
Independence.
Pulling at ankles,
Thighs.
Breasts.
Lapping into my ears
Until my head is heavy
With salty water,
Like a million tears.