Another school year: time to head for the ditch

“It’s not a vocation; I’m more of a worker bee.”  Worker at a state agency, 20 years and counting

“If you do it right, it takes all you have.”  Public advocacy lawyer, 10 years in, looking for other work

I will be starting my 19^th year of teaching shortly, and I’ve vowed this time that I will not be a wrung out, hollow-eyed, sopping mess by the end of it, or even each Friday.  I used to take great pride in my work ethic, in my ability to power through 12 hour days, even though I would be practically sobbing as I left the house.  On the way home, I would be irritable, and then eat way too much, falling into bed with feelings of regret:  “I shouldn’t have said that to that student.  I should have answered more emails.  Why didn’t I do that thing I’ve been meaning to do?  And good God, did I really need that fourth piece of pizza followed by an ice cream chaser?” 

In the past, I’ve been jealous of people like my acquaintance above, a state worker whose vocation is not her job, but her running.  I have zero doubt that she is as conscientious at her job as she is in all other aspects of her life, but it’s clear from her statement that her job is just that: a job.  For a teacher to say that, though, would be anathema.  At the same time, we also have to avoid burnout, like my other acquaintance, the public advocacy lawyer.  Can a person have a vocation, particularly one that witnesses the very personal harm of social inequities day after day, without becoming cynical or burning out?

I freakin’ hope so, or we are all in a lot of trouble.

Mary Rose O’Reilley offers these questions, which I stole and put on my syllabus for student teachers, and yet also resonate for me personally:

Are you eating properly?

Are you exercising?

Are you practicing your art?

Are you involved with communities that love and honor and challenge you?

Do you have someone to talk to about your life?

Those of us who bear witness to suffering—and if you look hard enough, and work with people enough, you know this—need to keep these questions in mind.  If I cannot be whole and present for you because I am tired, upset, and/or have low blood sugar, then I am doing myself and you a grave injustice.  I admire my friends with endless energy and the ability to be social at all times, but that ain’t me.      

“Mind is like a train on rails and the koan knocks out the rails so we can find our true path.”  Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist monk

Mary Rose O’Reilley writes, “This phrase gives me a conceptual frame inside of which I can choose to not shut down, to not anesthetize myself, to not despair, to not apologize, and to not be ashamed.  Those in my experience, are the traps.  Those are the ways we get stuck in breakdown” (2005, p. 4-5). 

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote that a person’s personal koan, or riddle to solve, is to figure out the train that runs on the tracks, because leaving the tracks is liberation.  For me, the train is my identity, and the twin tracks are anxiety and perfectionism.  And that’s why I work beyond my true capacity.  With that, in theory, I get recognition and appreciation, which I seem to crave.  It’s a self-perpetuating thing.  And that’s why work becomes overwhelming with no sense of satisfaction.  I am doing it for false reasons.

 

The thing is, I’ve known that these are my tracks for a while now, but I haven’t understood how to head for the ditch, as Neil Young would say.  However, when I think about it, I realize I actually do have the tools, and they are meditation and yoga.  So I have the way off the tracks, but I’m so attached to the tracks that I fit yoga into my lifestyle instead of the other way around. 

What if yoga came first and work second? 

I’ll just sit with that for a moment. 

It’s not like overworking has done me any good, or really allowed me to accomplish that much.

"'Heart of Gold' put me in the middle of the road. Travelling there soon became a bore so I headed for the ditch." Neil Young

I think I can now accept that life is not about seeking what’s comfortable, but what’s true.  It’s also about service, not overwork.  How much better will it be not only for me, but for others, if I choose genuine, authentic service, instead of the self-service that is simply to soothe my anxieties and perfectionism?  My risk is not jumping off a cliff, but at least heading for the ditch.