Perhaps it’s the change of seasons.
Perhaps it’s the shift that occurs at this time of year when we move from the ease of summer to the routine and purpose of Fall.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent too much time staring at and evaluating the functional-but-not-creative writing of the students in my Effective Written Communication course this season.
Perhaps it’s because I’m dreaming of (and looking forward to) teaching the kind of writing I REALLY want to teach.
Perhaps it’s just the pause that comes before a major journey – a journey that will see me cross two provinces, meet a soul-sister-because-of-babies-lost, and then push myself to the limit when I walk 100 kilometres at her side.
It may be all of those reasons, or it may be none of them.
Whatever it is, I seem to be out of words.
Try as I might, I can’t write a coherent blog post. I can’t excavate the story that wants to be told about what it’s like to prepare for a three day walk that I know will be a combination of exhilaration, tedium, and pain. I can’t seem to dig deeply enough to tell the story that’s burning the edges of my heart about how I feel when I have to mark students’ papers, knowing that my judgement could be hindering their writing journey instead of helping it. I can’t capture the essence of the things I dream of when I consider what I want to teach in the future. I can’t find any words to define the shifts that have happened – seasonal and otherwise. I can’t even tell you with any degree of creativity how warm and safe it felt to be in the bosom of my beloved family this past weekend.
I can’t find the words, and so I look through photos to at least dig up some image that will show you where I’ve been, what I’ve been captivated by, who I’ve been with, or how the light is shifting in my part of the world.
I can’t find the pictures either. My camera is sitting idle next to my paint brushes and pencils.
I’m dry. Quiet. A little bit empty.
Shifting. Waiting. Stretching.
Something will come. When it’s ready.
Maybe I have to walk 100 km. to find it.