Still here, but not here

I have not fallen from the earth or buried myself at sea or drifted into that realm of never to return. I am still right here, squatting on the bayou, watching the water of Bayou Lafourche meander right on past my back door. Life is full of things, at the moment, that would distract me from writing.

Tuesday evening is for wood-turning. Yes, I am a complete convert, totally immersed, loving the distraction and intensity. I think the attraction is due to two things lacking in other endeavors. Firstly, the results are immediately reinforcing. I can see the quick alteration of shape, and progress is swift and pleasing. As opposed to teaching where you put your back and heart into it and then hold onto the hope that one day your efforts will produce effective change.

Seldom do we see the progress or our students or the alteration of shape. In fact, more and more, in recent days, I have begun to question whether we are, indeed, producing a generation of lifelong learners. My appraisal tells me we are producing a generation of learners who can pass a standardized test. Not a skill they will be likely to use very often over their lifetime. And quite likely, the pursuit of this end has effectively reduced the likelihood of ever developing the love of lifelong learning in the majority of our students.

It has most decidedly reduced the love of teaching for the majority of our teachers.

Returning to the subject of wood on the lathe, the second reason I am finding this so satisfying and addictive is the impossibility of thinking of anything else while that lathe is turning. With the wheel spinning and the knives cutting and the wood shavings flying, I must be fully there, concentrating only on the position of the knife against the wood - not too high or I might get a kick back and not too low or I might get pulled in underneath, causing all sorts of unpleasant grinding noises and running the risk of serious injury. In fact, the constant threat of serious injury - cutting off a finger or damaging an entire hand - demands I stay focused as nothing else in my life does.

So, in this state of complete and focused concentration, with the whirring of the machine and the smell of the wood occupying my senses, I have found a sort of meditation - a resting of my mind. Then and only then I have no opportunity to think of other things, not the worries of the world or even the demands of my own little corner. It is a most pleasant place to be.