She awakens, optimistic, eager to
paint the large strokes of life. The car ride, same morning radio show, same
dull, half-asleep conversation about recent events. It lingers, this
melancholy, like corn syrup consciousness. Thick and viscous- coating the
expressive part of her soul, with a molasses varnish. At times sweet and
enticing, others a toxic patina.
It sits on the tongue, a filmlike reminder to brush after every
meal. To open one's eyes and look around, recognize the minty freshness of
observation. She stares out the window, dark becoming dawn. Cars scrambling to
and fro, like ants on a hill. Sometimes she feels like the ant, purposefully
driven to be part of a pack. Job detailed, relentless instinct to collect and
assemble.
Then the giant foot scatters.
Empty parking lot, she crosses, alone, before noise erupts, she
enters. Hallways whispering about yesterday's occurrences. She listens. She
welcomes the silence.
She switches on, as the lights
do. Springing to life, mind focused. Setting forth. Music easing into the
stillness, awakening the motivation. The energy ignites and she begins to
bounce, foot taping to the rhythm of a new day.
White noise is contagious. She is often placed within it. Letting
the brilliance of opportunity become mired in dots and background. She goes
through the motions because it is easier to do so. She lets routine drag her
along many days, rather than raising anchor and setting sail on unpredictable
waters. Yet, she needs to.
It is important to remember to walk the avenue, remain unjaded,
fly in the moment. Every second you are in the classroom, virtual or brick and
mortar, is paradigm shattering. It is magic incarnate. You just need to feel it
in real time. You have to recognize that the subtle art of a colorful
experience- is like a neon dream. You just need to be willing to spill the
paint.
It can be messy. Sometimes it may be splatter, others a fine,
detailed masterpiece. But most often it is somewhere in between. The important
thing is to push out the white noise. Drown it out with a momentum. Creating a
soundtrack all your own. Let your students play the instruments, write the lyrics,
and sing the melody and at the end of the day you will have an album. Complete
with cover art.
The scene is set. She remembers to mute her voice. She hears the footsteps;
the energy precedes them. Classroom absence becomes classroom presence.
Sanitized and full of life. Bursting with new faces. A passport presented- one
which opens the world to exploration. A soundcheck finishes and a concert of
learning begins. She smiles.
Daylight leaves. Shadow overtakes brisk. She walks out, leaving
the energetic forest of growth and cycle. The parking lot empty, eager for her
to cross it. White noise rings. Routine sets in. Template filled.
She drives home. Local radio
show. Scenery set. Then a moment of release. She taps her foot and sings the
song of her day. The colorful does not wane. She does not fall into the subtle
- she listens, she experiences, she discusses.
The art of colorful experience is holding it the canvas tight. Being
able to keep access to the brush, the palette, the array of moments that are
always near. It is leaving the classroom in the classroom. Welcoming the home
into the day, as a top ten hit. It is hearing the music of family.
Singing along to the familiar. Embracing
the effervescence of the personal.
The subtle art of a colorful experience is her new chorus. She is
finding balance. And it is simply beautiful.
Does this sound familiar? If so,
welcome to the colorful experience. If not, step aside from the target and let
yourself envision the bullseye. Quiver full, choose your arrow and release.
Your optimism and dedication is
your song, can you see the notes unfolding? Take a deep breath and let the
rhythm find you. It is waiting for you.
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