But, again, i must remember the importance of the journey and the obstacles we face as we make it… whether those obstacles be external, or placed there by ourselves.  i’ve placed a lot of obstacles in my own path — probably as many as life has.  i think, though, that the discussion of obstacles needs to wait for now.  Today, i have other matters on my mind.

i have frequently advised others to “pay attention to omens”, as Paulo Coelho preached to me.  Several things occurred today that make me think i would be remiss if i ignored them… First, i spoke with my dear friend and spiritual advisor for the first time in months (via IM, as she no longer resides in the States).  It was wonderful to speak with her… she has always been such an open mind, willing to listen and accept, even if she did not fully approve or understand.  i dropped some interesting revelations about myself on her that i had had over the past year or so, and true to her nature, she accepted them. More than that, i think she approved, if only because she knew the freedom i felt in accepting certain things about myself.

The second thing that happened is that i had not one, but two conversations online about my “nickname”… puzzlepieces.  i originally picked up this screen name when i was doing a lot of self evaluation — trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together to make sense of who i am.  In putting those pieces together, though, i have discovered some other meanings to the name.

i spent much of last year putting my own pieces together and building a pretty clear picture of who i am.  The picture that emerged was a surprising and, initially, a disturbing one to me.  Like Coelho’s shepherd, Santiago, i once again had to throw out all preconceived notions of who i am, what is “right”, and what is  right for me.  What i’ve discovered about me might not impress others, and may not even be approved of… but ultimately, i’m the one who needs to live my life, not others.

My discussions today about puzzle pieces, though, revolved more around how people connect… how relationships work.  After being proudly, and necessarily, single for a long while, i now find myself in a very solid, though unorthodox relationship.  Again, it’s not a relationship that, if they knew the details, others would necessarily approve of, but it works for me, and for Him.  We fulfill each others’ needs… complement each others’ differences.  We fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and it’s good.

I think that’s the key to a successful relationship — be it a romantic one, a sexual one, or a friendship — the fitting together.  i don’t need someone in my life who is just like me, though i admit, i do have a friend who is very much like me — he acts as a sort of a mirror for me.  What i do need though, is someone who fills in my gaps.  i can see the world from my perspective just fine; i need others to show me different perspectives.  i can stand alone quite well, but i only really feel “complete” when i have other, different, pieces that fit with me and complete the big picture.

i’ve been very lucky lately to find many of the pieces i was missing, and i realize that i have been their missing “piece”, too.  My “spiritual advisor” who i always make think and who, in return,  reminds me to live from my soul; my crazy Italian who teaches me to accept who i am and to cry, while i teach her to be strong; the man who is “me with a penis” who mirrors me — we can remind each other of our competence and beauty; my “soul-mate” who looks past whatever is going on in my life and sees my core; and, of course, my One, who fulfills the needs i never knew i had, and for Whom i fulfill needs long supressed.

i don’t thank any of you enough,  so let me take this opportunity.  Thank You all.  You complete me.

Just over a year after losing my first teaching job, I found myself working as a substitute for an after-school child care organization.  It was a part-time job that did not come close to paying my bills, but it was the closest I dared come to working in the field I had studied.  After losing that first job, for which I had prepared for five long years in college, I was utterly demoralized.  I felt as though I had wasted my education, and that I had failed at the one thing I thought I might be good at.  I was afraid to try to teach again. 

At this time, not only was I broke and underemployed, I was pregnant with my first child, often cranky and impatient, irritated to no end by the countless people who believed that it was okay for them to touch my belly simply because I was pregnant.  Really, would we ever dream of doing that to non-pregnant women?

 One day, the organization I worked for assigned me to work in a center in a very liberal, “hippie” area of Austin, TX.  Earlier that day, I had gotten an ultrasound and learned the sex of my child – a boy.  Near the end of the day, as parents arrived to pick up their children, a strange woman in a flowing gypsy skirt and tie-dyed t-shirt approached me.  “Oh, boy,” muttered one of my co-workers.  “This woman never made it out of an acid trip in the 60’s.  She’s a little nutty, but harmless.”  Great, I thought sarcastically, I really need some whacko giving me unsolicited advice about how to be pregnant.  I haven’t heard enough of that!  I braced myself to politely ignore her.

The woman purposefully strode up to me and placed her hands on my bulging belly.  (Arrgh!).  Then she looked me directly in the eye and said, “Your son is going to change the world.”  At that moment, her own son trotted up to her, she took his hand and they walked away.  I never saw her again. 

I was a little shaken by the event, but put it out of my mind.

After Stephan was born, I realized that I needed to bite the bullet and get a teaching job in order to support my family.  This time, my teaching was a success.

Years later, I was talking to the mother of one of my students, and I told her about being fired from my first teaching job and not going back until after Stephan was born.  Somehow, the incident with the strange woman at the day care came up as well, and I laughed, saying that although I knew Stephan was a remarkable child, I didn’t really think he was going to change the world.

The woman did not laugh with me.  Instead she looked at me seriously and said, “But don’t you see?  He already has.  It was because of him that you went back to teaching.  Your teaching has changed the life of my child, and hundreds of others.  They will all go into the world and do something to make it better, because of the influence you have had on them.  Your belief and dedication to my child has changed me, because I now have faith in the goodness of people, and I trust that people can be generous and kind, so I try every day to be that way with others.  So, you see, your son did change the world.”

Since then, I never underestimate the power of one person to make a difference, and I am constantly aware of how fortunate I am to have known people who have changed my life, and therefore the world.

For many years, any mention of God or Jesus made me a little squeamish unless they were spoken of in the course of an intellectual discussion.  I would politely thank those who offered prayers for me, then turn away and giggle at what I perceived as their ignorance  and naivite.  I respected them for their beliefs in God, but I was having none of it.  I was offended when others tried to “bring me into the fold”.  I still have some unresolved issues with my sisters (one of whom has since passed away) because they told me that my mother was in Hell and I was going because we were not “fully devoted followers”.  I disliked my late sister’s husband because he used every conversation we had as an opportunity to instruct me in God’s laws.   I was married twice: once by a justice of the peace, once by a minister of the “Universal Life Church” which ordains through a 10 dollar mail-in donation.  I did not baptize my children, and until very recently, my 17 year old had never been in a church except for weddings and funerals.  I did not endorse a candidate for a job in my department because her background was working in the church, and I feared that she would make her classroom a pulpit.

Incidentally, Lizzie got the job anyway, and not only has she been an unspeakably amazing addition to my department, she has become my close friend, and in a sense, my newest spiritual advisor.  Over the past few years as I have begun to really look at myself, I’ve started to wonder about my aversion to anything relating to God, and admiring people who believed.  I’ve stopped being hostile to or ridiculing those of faith, and started asking questions.  I’ve started to look for my own faith.

Perhaps my son has felt this change in me, for he has chosen to do his graduation project about religion, and for his practical experience, he is attending church with friends.  His first experience was with a small, Southern Baptist church, whose congregation is overwhelmingly African American.  He was fascinated by the experience, and said, “I finally got to see what God is to people, rather than in a textbook.”  I thought that was an incredibly profound thing to say.  Through the course of this project, he also plans to attend a Catholic mass, a Buddhist service, and participate in a Wiccan celebration.  I look forward to hearing his thoughts on all.  By the way, Lizzie has agreed to be his mentor for this project, and I’m sure she will have some interesting insights for him to ponder!

As for my own spiritual quest, it has been rather private, as most of my deepest thoughts are, initially.  It started in earnest through reading Paulo Coelho, who speaks of God as a presence in all of us, the “Soul of the World”.  I’ve started to make friends with more people of faith, and to speak honestly with them about my doubts, to ask questions about how they reconcile inconsistencies in doctrines, and to ask them what they really believe.  I have been reading a lot by Anne Lamott, who is a great example of a devout Christian, who is a painfully real and flawed person — and is therefore much more believable and accessible than any righteous holy-roller who tries to convince me that I will burn in hell unless I repent all my misdeeds.  I’ve started to really pay attention to coincidences and have come to the conclusion that they must mean something in the grand scheme of things and that some force must be in charge.  I don’t pray yet, and I certainly don’t attend formal services, but I am listening, and I am, if not a believer, no longer a disbeliever.  I have talked to Lizzie many times about the things that are happening in my life and in my mind, and recently she said to me, “Something is happening within you right now.  I don’t know what it is, but something is awakening, and you need to pay attention.”  It’s been very strange, for while I’ve been on this journey for awhile now, just recently it’s picked up speed.  It’s like a go cart racing down a hill:  it started slowly, but the further down the hill I get, the faster things seem to be happening.  Let me tell you, it’s an intense, frightening, and thrilling ride.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to conceive of a God such as Jews or Christians do, but I do believe in a divine force.  I think the Bible is a fascinating piece of literature, and that Jesus was the best example of how great humanity can be.  If he was the son of God, though, I believe, it is only because we all are.  I believe that miracles can and do happen every day — I need only to look at my sons to know that.  I believe that prayers are answered, but that nothing is free.  We have to answer our own prayers sometimes.  And I believe that sometimes we do have to let go and put our lives and hopes and dreams into someone/thing else’s hands and let nature take its course.  Most of all though, I believe that we all have a purpose on earth, and that each person’s purpose is unique to them.  We each have our own “personal legend”.

My son said to me this morning as we had yet another conversation about these issues, something about “faith in God” not being exactly accurate, but that faith within us is what makes us believe in God.  Well, I’m finally finding  faith within myself.  I’m believing in my own goodness and worth and beauty, and finally owning it, and through that I’m finding faith in others as well, and  in the world around me.

And it’s good.

• Don’t settle for “good enough”.  Aim high and keep striving to achieve it.  You might not always get everything you want, but don’t lower the bar.  Never say “I have everything I have ever wanted”.  There’s always more.  I don’t mean “stuff” or money.  I mean love, wisdom, respect, knowledge, friends, joy, hobbies, etc.  Want everything and don’t stop trying to get it.
• Cut your losses.  Sometimes things aren’t going to work out.  Know when to stop beating a dead horse and try something new.  Don’t get mired in a situation just because you have time and energy invested in it; move on and use that energy more wisely next time.
• Take responsibility for your own actions.  Toot your own horn when you’ve done something well, but also bite the bullet when you screw up and admit it.  It’s okay; “to err is human”, to face up to it is tough, but ultimately that’s what is going to earn you respect.  It also helps to keep you humble.  But seriously don’t forget to take credit for your successes, too!
• Remember that you can’t control or fix everything. (corollary to the above). Some things are not within your power, and you can’t kick yourself if someone else fails.  Work on improving the systems over which you do have control, and let the other stuff go.  Play the “My Shit or Your Shit” game.  If it’s yours, take care of it, if it’s someone else’s, let them.
• The three dirtiest words in the English language are “Woulda”, “Shoulda”, and “Coulda”.  Yeah, maybe you “shoulda” done (or not done) something that would have made your current situation better.  But you didn’t, so now, here you are.  Do what you can with what you’ve got now.  Time travel is not feasible, so you can’t go back and change it.  Move on. Don’t lay awake nights and regret or wish you could change what has already happened. Next step. 
• Appreciate the little things.  The smell of just mown grass.  A silly  inside joke with your best friend. Hugs. ”Aha” moments.  Sunbeams.  Meteor showers.  Cheesecake.  A view of the mountains. It’s so easy to get dragged down by all the negatives.  Find those little things that make you smile and embrace them.  Every day.
• Laugh.  The world is ridiculous, face it.  Revel in that. Studies have shown that people who laugh are healthier. 
• Cry.  Don’t let yourself become emotionally constipated.  You don’t want to be a baby and cry ALL the time, but let yourself weep at the end of a good book, or while watching a beautiful sunset, or a cheesy movie.  If you can let yourself cry, you make room for all the other emotions that you might otherwise not let yourself feel.
• Keep your promises.  If you say you’re going to do something, do it, damn it!  If you think you might not be able to follow through, don’t promise it.  Say what you mean, mean what you say.
• Be authentic.  This may require some self reflection.  Know who you are, what is important to you, and always work within that frame.  Don’t try to be what others expect of you.  Do what is right for you, and be who you are. Adjust to different settings, but don’t become different people. 
• Don’t be a jackass.  Why do people go out of their way to irritate others?  If you go about your business, it’s entirely possible that you will step on someone’s toes, or piss someone off.  Just don’t make it a point to be annoying for the sake of being annoying.  It’s really annoying.
• Ask for what you need.  (I know, I know, I should certainly not cast any stones here.) People feel connected to others when they help.  If you ask for assistance, not only do you get what you need, you give another something he/she needs too. Be specific, too. Few people can read minds, but most would be willing to help if they knew how.
• Tell others how you feel.   “You really hurt my feelings.”  “I’m feeling a little low today and need your support.”  “It made my day when you told me how much you appreciate me.”  “I love you.”  I’m not going to give you that old “you never know when you’re going to die…” spiel, because I don’t think that way.  Just say what you feel, because it makes life move along so much more smoothly when you face things head on.  Your other option is to live life like a “Seinfeld” episode.
• Love.  Let yourself feel all of those dangerous emotions: love, fear, anger, passion.  They are intense, but invigorating.  They don’t have to rule you, but you must let yourself feel them.
• Life isn’t fair.  Don’t expect to get back what you put into something — you might, in fact, you may come out ahead, but then again, you might not.  Maybe on a grand scale life is fair, and it’ll all even out eventually, but don’t believe that on a day to day, month to month, or even year to year basis that things that go around, come around.  Do good things because their the right thing to do, not because you believe you’ll get something back.  Karma doesn’t work that way.  God doesn’t negotiate.  Get used to it.
• Do what you love. Don’t work to live, live for your work.  Find your passion and then find a job that fulfills it. Don’t settle for less.  I’ve been lucky here.

If I teach my students and children nothing more than these, I will count myself a success.

I’ve recently become a Facebook junkie.  I set up an account about a year and a half ago, but really didn’t do anything with it.  Most of the people from whom I received friend requests were acquaintances from high school, and, honestly, I wondered why, since I really didn’t know many of them that well back then.  Eventually, though, I started exploring the site, searching out people about whom I had fond memories as well as people I interact with daily in my present life.  My friends list grew (and continues to) and now includes my own children, some of their friends, a few of my students, several colleagues, former colleagues, and many people from the various stages of my youth — college, high school, (including my high school band director) and even elementary school.  I haven’t spoken to many of these people in over twenty years. I admit that, while they are on my “friends” list, I don’t know if some of these people ever were my friends, or even if they were, if they still would be.  I don’t know what to say to them to break the ice, and I assume they feel the same about me.

However, I have re-developed relationships with a few people from my distant past through the nifty IM feature on Facebook, and I am surprised at how much I still like the people that I liked as a child/adolescent.  Susie and I (who were inseparable in elementary school, but haven’t talked since maybe 1984) chatted about our children and our romantic interests as though we still lived across the street from each other and spent every weekend night together.  Bruce and I caught up briefly on what has happened to each of us over the past 20-something years, then talked about things that were important to us now.  Amy, a high school friend and my roommate during my sophomore year in college, dared me to analyze her, though I haven’t seen her since 1987, and she said I hit the nail on the head.  Bart can still make me giggle with his snide sense of humor, even if he’s not putting Mr. Smith in a vacuum chamber. Tom still makes me smile with his eclectic and eccentric musical choices. It’s somehow comforting to know that the people who meant so much to me in my youth have grown up to be people that I’d still like to be friends with.  We have so much more than our past experiences in common.

I don’t want to suggest that these people have not changed since the 1980s — far from it– but who they are at their core has remained surprisingly constant over the years.  Apparently so have I.  No one so much as raises an eyebrow when they learn that I became a teacher, or that I’ve raised two highly gifted kids.  They tell me that I was always smart and nurturing, as though they expected this of me.

It was a conversation I had with a friend from my last year in college that struck me the most ferociously, though.  We lost touch after college, but met  again for an afternon  in 1993 in Texas, then lost track again until just over a year ago.  Now we talk or text almost daily.  One night when I was feeling really low, he called and told me that of his friends from that time period, I was the one he never worried about making something of myself.  He described me as strong, independent, intelligent, and sensible when I was 21.  He knew that I would fall down occasionally, but that I would always get back up. I didn’t see myself that way at all back then, and have spent all of my adult life trying to become that.  It was quite a revelation to me.  I wondered if, had I known then that I already was what I wanted to become, I would have taken a different path in my life, perhaps one not so difficult.  Would I have chosen different men to date/marry?  Would I have avoided the heartbeaks and disappointments I suffered?  Would I have done it all differently?

Of course not, I now realize, because the journey that I took in order to find that truth — that I always was who I wanted to become — was the journey I needed to take.  While the treasure that Coelho’s shepherd, Santiago, dreamt of was actually right under his head, it was his destiny to work in the tea shop, cross the desert, meet Fatima, become advisor to the chief of the oasis, become the wind, and get his ass kicked by robbers in the shadows of the pyramids.  He wouldn’t have found his treasure if he hadn’t taken that journey.

I’ve taken my own journey, and continue to, but  I know now that the treasure I seek very well may be right where I began.

This summer was very intense for me, self reflection-wise.  My sons spent two months with their father, leaving me all to myself.  I thought it would be great — 60 days with no responsibility to anyone but myself!  No defining myself as mother or teacher!  I could stay out all night if I wanted, eat popcorn for dinner if I felt like it, I could walk through the house naked and not worry about traumatizing my teenage boys, I had no schedule, no obligations!  The joy of that lasted for a few days.  Then I realized that without my students or my kids, I was only flapping in the wind.

That realization horrified me.  I like to think of myself as a very independent, strong, well-adjusted woman who is comfortable in her own skin.  After 10 years of marriage, I had just recently discovered myself as a woman separate from my job and my role as a wife and mother, and I was pleased with that.  I didn’t like that I felt so lost without someone needing something from me.  I was a disappointed in myself for needing others to validate my worth.  “I must learn to be okay with myself!”  I told myself, and so, spent three full days alone in my apartment, literally not speaking the entire time.

Being okay with myself, I discovered during that time, is learning to accept who I am, not trying to be who I think I should be.  “Who I am”  is a mother, a teacher, a friend, a mentor, a role model (not always a good one!), a caregiver, an occasional lover.  I am who I am because of the relationships I have with others.  The sacrifices I make for others are neither a sign of weakness nor a cause for sainthood.  They are not intended to ingratiate me in the eyes of others or to establish credit in the “favor bank”.  I give my heart, my soul, my energy, my time, and my sympathy to others because, through doing so, I meet my own needs, and thus become more of me.

I had a rather long IM conversation with a friend whose lifestyle may very well cost her the chance to be ordained in the church to which she dedicated much of her life.  She seems okay with that, though, for she said something to the effect of  “It is through our relationships with others that we find our spirituality; not inside some church.”  Let me be clear:  she has in no way rejected her church’s teachings, nor has she turned her back on her calling.  She just realized that she was most able to really understand the idea of “God’s love” through a relationship that, while not unacceptable to the church, was too controversial to condone, and that teaching needy teenagers was a more effective way for her to share this love than through preaching to a congregation.  It was through her relationships with others that she found her true purpose, and in that sense, became closer to God than she might have otherwise.

Another friend of mine is going through some pretty rough times, and intimated that he hates asking others for help.  This is something that’s tough for me, too, but I’ve recently been forced to rely on others for assistance, and I’ve found that my really good friends are not only willing to help me in any way they can, but are hurt when I don’t ask.  They tell me that it gives them pleasure to know that they can ease my burdens, that they can be useful.  It gives them new energy to feel connected to another human through helping.  Giving assistance serves to refill the well.

So, I’m no longer disappointed in myself for defining myself based on my relationships with others.  I’m good with the fact that my needs are met by making others, if not happy, better equipped to face their own challenges.  I’ve accepted and embraced the notion that I am revitalized by knowing I’ve done some good for someone else. 

Given this, I’m ready to face the madness of high school again, ready to be at the beck and call of a host of needy teenagers.  This is what will really recharge my batteries, and I sure need it, because this summer spent with myself drained me!