Harvest, Thanks, and Stamina

My semester is closing down with papers rolling along, presentations coming together, and certain minor homework assignments being consigned to the waste basket. The days in Lincoln were refreshing, enthusing, and surprising; I return with just enough rejuvenation to get me through. Conversations with friends, unremembered acquaintances, and family have left me with a strange sense of myself. I am not feeling displaced, but perhaps dislocated; a term with particular weight in the classroom. In Flagstaff, I do not feel dislocated so much as that I feel dislocated from the realities of Lincoln and I think I have even when I was living there. Now, though, I sense a gratitude and assurance that allow me to dwell somewhere effectively, vividly, even if it is only briefly. When I lived in Lincoln, activity took on a sort of burden that slowed it all down and discouraged me thoroughly. Upon returning from Flagstaff, I was baking, chatting, reading, biking, debating, sharing drinks, sparking conversations, trading phone numbers, setting dates and making plans... it all came upon me, even sleep felt much more like sleep than I really expected. (The latter, likely the result of my gradual sleep deprivation and the demonic softness of my bed.)

It is strange to think that I have so little time left to get so much done. Then, I go to Lincoln for two week for more family, friends, acquaintances; concerts, coffee dates, conversations; baking, cooking, and plenty of eating. I only now had the attention and time to read a letter from Miss Mary Depuydt and I feel so blessed, given her own consternation, to sense such peace, excitement, and activity in the world; a world in which I feel increasingly integral and participatory. The work right now feels more and more like keeping up the pace before the deadlines pass.