There's Something Out There

There’s Something Out There

“Close your eyes. Imagine you are standing in front of the house. Notice what type of building it is. Are there flowers growing in the flower boxes…pink…blue…? Open the doors. Look to the left…to the right. Make note of everything you see. Is the carpet green, or is it polished hardwood floor? Drink in every aspect around you…lamps…chairs…clocks….
Walk farther into the house. Select a corridor and go down it. Walk into the first room on the right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see an object lying on the floor. The sun trickles over the dusty floor and glistens over it. Bend over and pick it up. You notice the person standing beside you. The sunlight obscures his face. Shade your eyes against the sun…you see his face…he is speaking to you. You need to hear what he has to say….
Okay, open your eyes.”
This was a short visualization exercise led by a Georgia, Teacher of the Year. She was outstanding. I have never been more moved by the products of my own imagination. Maybe it was her soothing, middle-Georgia accent; Perhaps her happy, “I want to love you” attitude. I don’t know. What I do know is that this mental exercise moved me.
I entered a two story, red brick house with a wide front porch. There were no flowers in the flower boxes. I stepped inside and saw a seated, hall-tree to my immediate left. The red, hardwood floors whispered a lifetime of secrets with every step I took. The living room appeared to my right. I could see the shadows of children laughing. The seemed to belong to another lifetime.
I moved farther into the depths of my created dwelling. There seemed to be a ghostly dust choking the air that did not move as I passed through the room. It encompassed me in a sweet, nostalgic cocoon. I entered the first room to my right…beige carpet…one high window with yellow curtains….
I see it…my object lying on the floor! The dusty sunshine is obscuring my view. I reach out for it. Yes! It’s a glass…chess piece. The knight. I rolled it over in my hand to feel the smooth coldness. A glass horse? My mind was swimming through a sea of confusion.
“…notice the person standing beside….”
Okay, I see him…black shoes…black pants…big, loving hands reaching out for me. Uncle Gene? Uncle Gene, is that you? Why are you here…I don’t understand?
He reached out and touched my cheek with his roughly calloused hand, “Don’t worry, there is something out there. I promise.”
“…open your eyes….”
Wait! Uncle Gene, don’t go! What’s out there? What do you mean? I don’t understand…. I felt utterly alone. I tride to hide the tears that were seeping out from the corners of my eyes. My soul had been ripped out. I felt hollow and confused…unsure and disconnected. Was he talking about heaven? Hell? Life? I don’t want to get into a metaphysical debate, I just want you you to share my experience. I want to tell you that life-altering events do happen outside of tragic experiences.
I can’t explain the glass chess piece. I don’t know if it has any hidden meanings. Perhaps it was an attempt to say, “Hey, it’s your move!” Perhaps. I also can’t explain why my Uncle Gene appeared to me. Of every person I now (living and dead), my Uncle Gene steps forward to offer up my future. Why? I don’t know. I love my Uncle dearly, and it was very sad when he died, but why was it him? I guess I’ll never know.
I have decided not to analyze this experience to death…no pun intended. I’m just going to accept that I was given this experience as a gift. So, am I insane?
Maybe.
After I said good-bye to all the convention-goers and the enthusiastic Georgian, Teacher of the Year, I got in my home and drove home. 31 miles of mind-numbing confusion about my life. I can write. Do I want to be a writer? I can draw. Do I want to be an artist? I AM a teacher, but do I really want to be? One thing reverberated through my mind above all of this: Those who can do. Those who can’t, teach. I don’t know who said this, but you’re RUINING MY FREAKING LIFE!
Rationally, I know that this isn’t true. There are most definitely teachers out there who have wanted to do nothing but teach since they were 10 years old. I envy them. They have a superior sense of direction and an iron conviction. They love all their kids. They love the idea of making a breakthrough with the “difficult” students. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy these things, too. But, do I love them? Hmmm…I don’t know that I can ever really love any sort of practical employment experience. Am I lazy?
Maybe.
My mother told me, “I think you have a little of your father in you. He could never settle on one thing either.” Suffice to say, they divorced when I was four.
I tried to blame it on my mom for making me a Gemini – just like dear ole’ dad. If she could have just stayed pregnant for two more weeks,all my Gemini-an problems would never have existed. Gemini’s are said to have two faces; a yin and yang; a positive pull and a negative pull. Does this sound like split personalities to you? Well…. I don’t really think that Geminis have the two faces of Eve, but we are chameleons. We adapt to the situation to survive. However, I don’t want to just survive. I want to wake up every morning excited about life – looking forward to going to work. Fantasy land? I don’t know.
My first time through college I actually declared my major seven times. Each and every declaration was a brand new commitment to academic excellence. Each and every time was a new lease on life. After about eight weeks of the semester, I decided I didn’t want to do…WHATEVER. After five years of taking a mixed-matched array of classes, I didn’t have enough to get a degree in anything.
Great.
I managed to get a full assistant-ship to a Graduate program in Costume Design. I was star-struck. This means I have talent, right? I moved to a little cow-poke town where the university was located, and rented a soup can trailer from a noodle-headed landlord. Then, I entered the Summer Music Theatre program – part time. I realize that doing SMT full time is extremely stressful, HOWEVER, it does not give you free reign to be lord and master. Can you say RUDE? I hadn’t cried so much in years. The costumes foreman was…EVIL.
I couldn’t sew by following a pattern. HUGE PROBLEM. The foreman didn’t care. He promptly told me it was my problem and he didn’t have time to teach me. Hello? Isn’t this a school? Let’s just say I spent the summer ironing miles and miles and miles of fabric. I did manage to create a beautiful, silk bathrobe for the lead character in Guys and Dolls. I’ve never been so proud. I took me three long days, but I triumphed.
It was cut from the final production.
Great.
I somehow survived my summer of hell began the semester with a more knowledgeable attitude. I no longer felt completely overwhelmed. I didn’t walk into the costume shop any immediately think I was drowning. Hey, I may actually survive this! Little did I know, the evil demon had planted his seed…and it began to fester.