I have been walking around for days now with words continually swelling up inside me. To be candid, a few tears as well. As I move frenetically to complete my dissertation, land a job, teach, and attend to my personal life, I often find myself overcome by things big and small. The finish line is within reach. And while that is assuring, it is also terrifying. What is next? As of 8:11 Saturday morning I have no idea. I feel absolute panic at times, and worry about my future. I travel across the country for campus interviews and try to picture myself happily living there with my three Golden Retrievers. For some reason, I measure everything against my house in Austin (which I love) and the known quantity of my life here or in the Bay Area. Moving to Austin was a gamble, I threw in all my chips and made a huge leap of faith; however, starting a PhD program with a cohort is vastly different than starting a job on your own. I am well aware that the fatigue factor heavily influences my emotional and cognitive state; however, that does not stop the surge of doubt that seems to grip me in my more vulnerable moments (which are far too many in my opinion). This "next great adventure" thing does not have me jumping up and down for joy, rather a perpetual state of uncertainty, which is a bit daunting to say the least.
In an attempt to balance my universe, I seek strength and inspiration outside of myself. And as you may imagine, there is no short supply of it. When I spoke in class about the "magic of derailment" I shared the stories of people I met while traveling standby. As I moved from gate to gate, teetering on distraught and succumbing to tears, I was saved by the kindness of others, and perhaps more important, moved and inspired by their stories. Last week our guest speaker at the Community Engagement forum, Scott Peters, an oral historian by trade, spoke of the importance of stories and story lines in community-university partnerships. He shared stories of faculty who had dedicated their career in the academy to engaged scholarship and teaching. I think I speak for all who attended that we were collectively inspired by these people who we had never met, yet felt akin to as we seek ways to improve our engagement with communities, our students, and our colleagues to make the world a better place. I thought about all the people I have met, both brief and long lasting and how they have inspired me to try harder, do more, and extend myself to others - even when it feels like there is nothing left to give.
In the spirit of inspirational characters, two people close to me come to mind this morning. My husband just turned 75 years old last month. With confidence, I can say he is the smartest, most intellectual person I know - and I come across a lot of smart folks. He grew up in the segregated South with no one ever telling him he could or should go to college. He worked full time with a family and thanks to the GI Bill, attended San Francisco City College and then San Francisco State University where he earned his Bachelor's degree in Business. If anyone should be a professor in the family, it is him. He worked 30 years for SF Municipal railway and retired with an excellent package. While these should be the years he indulges himself, his first priority is taking care of his family and making sure he is the safety net they can lean into when times get tough. He is our rock, and shows no sign of bitterness or regret, rather his satisfaction comes from being able to hold everyone together. He is understated, and often surprises people with his intellect but those of us who know him sit back and smile for we have been graced by his brilliance for years. Simply put - he is my hero.
The other person I am thinking of is my son. My quieter child who does not seem to see how amazing he is to the world. As a black male in this society he has encountered racism since he was a young boy. It is hard to describe the dagger in my heart when he came home from school in first grade crying after a classmate told him all black men grow up and go to jail, or when he said at 21 years old at a cafe in Accra, Ghana that he never felt like he could be the smartest kid in the class. He graduated from San Francisco State (like his dad) yet never engaged in school, and in many ways felt it was a waste of his time (another dagger to my heart). These days my son is working for an airline (hence the standby travel) and trying to get an online vintage business off the ground. He is determined to make his own way without interference and financial support. He gets paid little but works doubles and triples to pay his rent, his car note and other bills. He cares for others and keeps a low profile. He is sensitive and compassionate, and like his dad, amazingly brilliant in an understated way. We do not talk everyday; however, he always calls or texts me at the moment I need him the most - "Love you mom, keep working hard, you are almost there". Last night he called to see how my campus visit went and ended up giving me a much needed pep talk. He reminded me I was not getting a PhD to impress those who for whatever reasons may never value my work, and if I ever doubted myself in this process all I had to do was look around at the lives I had touched though my community work, teaching, and as a friend and mother. As I listened to his wisdom, concern and love, I felt so much pride and inspiration from this 27 year old man who works for low wages while enduring crap from customers and supervisors, not to mention the presence and composure required of him to maintain his dignity while being a perceived threat to the world because of his blackness. You give me strength I told him, and of course in true Jonathan fashion, he replied, "You and dad give me strength mom".
Another source of inspiration I want to mention is all of you, my students. As I read your blogs this morning I marveled at how you are growing and developing by sharing yourselves and your stories. Your stories are powerful and they inspire me and others who read them. While we may feel alone, stories remind us we are traveling this journey together. Many years ago when I began my annual sojourns to the small Greek Island of Folegandros, a new but now old friend listened to me talk one night about my divided life as a mother, artist and career woman trying to maintain my day job. He handed be a book of poems by the Greek poet Kavafy and said quite sternly, "You need to read Ithaka". The poem speaks to the value of the journey - not the destination - and reminds us to appreciate the "magic of derailment" and the unexpected sources of inspiration that sustain us. I leave you with this poem and thank you for being part of my journey to Ithaka.
As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
In an attempt to balance my universe, I seek strength and inspiration outside of myself. And as you may imagine, there is no short supply of it. When I spoke in class about the "magic of derailment" I shared the stories of people I met while traveling standby. As I moved from gate to gate, teetering on distraught and succumbing to tears, I was saved by the kindness of others, and perhaps more important, moved and inspired by their stories. Last week our guest speaker at the Community Engagement forum, Scott Peters, an oral historian by trade, spoke of the importance of stories and story lines in community-university partnerships. He shared stories of faculty who had dedicated their career in the academy to engaged scholarship and teaching. I think I speak for all who attended that we were collectively inspired by these people who we had never met, yet felt akin to as we seek ways to improve our engagement with communities, our students, and our colleagues to make the world a better place. I thought about all the people I have met, both brief and long lasting and how they have inspired me to try harder, do more, and extend myself to others - even when it feels like there is nothing left to give.
In the spirit of inspirational characters, two people close to me come to mind this morning. My husband just turned 75 years old last month. With confidence, I can say he is the smartest, most intellectual person I know - and I come across a lot of smart folks. He grew up in the segregated South with no one ever telling him he could or should go to college. He worked full time with a family and thanks to the GI Bill, attended San Francisco City College and then San Francisco State University where he earned his Bachelor's degree in Business. If anyone should be a professor in the family, it is him. He worked 30 years for SF Municipal railway and retired with an excellent package. While these should be the years he indulges himself, his first priority is taking care of his family and making sure he is the safety net they can lean into when times get tough. He is our rock, and shows no sign of bitterness or regret, rather his satisfaction comes from being able to hold everyone together. He is understated, and often surprises people with his intellect but those of us who know him sit back and smile for we have been graced by his brilliance for years. Simply put - he is my hero.
Back in the day as a Cable Car Gripman for SF MUNI
The other person I am thinking of is my son. My quieter child who does not seem to see how amazing he is to the world. As a black male in this society he has encountered racism since he was a young boy. It is hard to describe the dagger in my heart when he came home from school in first grade crying after a classmate told him all black men grow up and go to jail, or when he said at 21 years old at a cafe in Accra, Ghana that he never felt like he could be the smartest kid in the class. He graduated from San Francisco State (like his dad) yet never engaged in school, and in many ways felt it was a waste of his time (another dagger to my heart). These days my son is working for an airline (hence the standby travel) and trying to get an online vintage business off the ground. He is determined to make his own way without interference and financial support. He gets paid little but works doubles and triples to pay his rent, his car note and other bills. He cares for others and keeps a low profile. He is sensitive and compassionate, and like his dad, amazingly brilliant in an understated way. We do not talk everyday; however, he always calls or texts me at the moment I need him the most - "Love you mom, keep working hard, you are almost there". Last night he called to see how my campus visit went and ended up giving me a much needed pep talk. He reminded me I was not getting a PhD to impress those who for whatever reasons may never value my work, and if I ever doubted myself in this process all I had to do was look around at the lives I had touched though my community work, teaching, and as a friend and mother. As I listened to his wisdom, concern and love, I felt so much pride and inspiration from this 27 year old man who works for low wages while enduring crap from customers and supervisors, not to mention the presence and composure required of him to maintain his dignity while being a perceived threat to the world because of his blackness. You give me strength I told him, and of course in true Jonathan fashion, he replied, "You and dad give me strength mom".
My son with Cornell West at SFO
Another source of inspiration I want to mention is all of you, my students. As I read your blogs this morning I marveled at how you are growing and developing by sharing yourselves and your stories. Your stories are powerful and they inspire me and others who read them. While we may feel alone, stories remind us we are traveling this journey together. Many years ago when I began my annual sojourns to the small Greek Island of Folegandros, a new but now old friend listened to me talk one night about my divided life as a mother, artist and career woman trying to maintain my day job. He handed be a book of poems by the Greek poet Kavafy and said quite sternly, "You need to read Ithaka". The poem speaks to the value of the journey - not the destination - and reminds us to appreciate the "magic of derailment" and the unexpected sources of inspiration that sustain us. I leave you with this poem and thank you for being part of my journey to Ithaka.
As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
I was moved, once again, by your stories. They are powerful. This week tears flowed as I read the celebration of your husband, the struggles of your son and the encouragement he brought to you. I also "get" the fear and trembling you are moving in and out of as you look to your future. In the short time I have had the privilege of being your student, my experience says you are amazing and will soar far higher than you can even dream or imagine. It will end well for you I have no doubt. The same belief you have in your students is reciprocated in our belief in you. Thanks for sharing and thank you for Ithaka. It speaks well into my own life.
ReplyDeletePaula, this was a read that I really needed. I have also been feeling lately that I am so close to the finish line but lose my motivation. Your stories have truly inspired me and I always have a feeling of what else can I give of myself, even whenever I am spread thin. Thank you for sharing Ithaka, it has reminded me of the journey I wish to take.
ReplyDeletePaula,
ReplyDeleteI have always thought about what your family is like, as I know you don't always have the opportunity to see all of them being in school. I saw your daughter on Monday, and realized I had never heard about your husband at all! It is like you can read minds and knew I was more curious about your family! Thank you for sharing with all of us.
Your blog posts always motivate all of us to get through our own things, just as you are trying to do!
Cam