I surprised myself this afternoon, however. I walked into my mythology class with a skeleton of an idea for a lesson. Yes, I'd written out details in my planner--journal entries for my students to write, topics to cover, a group exercise that seemed as dead as the goldfish my son won at the county fair. But I had no idea how to string all these things together into a cohesive class.
Before I stepped into the classroom, I said this little prayer in my head: "God, grant me a little wisdom to do and say the right things today." Then I walked through the door and started talking. And it all sort of came together. I don't know how. I found myself discussing creation and flood narratives, the collective unconscious, fluid sexuality, taboos. I'm not sure if I held everyone's attention, but I felt fully engaged, which I didn't expect.
As most of the disciples of this blog know, I've been struggling recently with depression and anxiety. It has muddied my thinking. Today, in mythology, I felt like I had surfaced after a long underwater swim. I was able to breathe and see light for a few moments.
Of course, I have another class to teach, and I may find myself simply treading water tonight in front of my students. But for a few moments today, I actually felt totally myself, and I haven't experienced that in a few weeks.
Saint Marty is thankful tonight for inspiration.
