I made a dent in the project on Wednesday. The dent consisted mostly of saying my goodbyes to anyone who was left to say goodbye to, and then giving away what little of my enormous effort could be taken. I spent years in that room, thinking and creating and teaching, and on Wednesday, I began to put it away. On Thursday Paul and I went back to tackle the grunt work. I condensed 4 years of grinding, molding, and polishing into 5 file boxes and one poster box. The rest I gave away, left behind, or threw away. Some things couldn’t be given away and I think that was the hardest part. The really valuable stuff—the stuff that makes a difference—couldn’t be given away. Its acquisition is trapped somewhere in the universe of personal experience. Sure, some of it can be imitated, but the rest can only be seared in the soul through one’s personal effort. So I was left with this beautiful, painstakingly and lovingly created masterpiece—this teacher—and nowhere to put her. She’s to be thrown into the fire, melted and crafted into something else, and for a little while the thought of it hurt. I doubted about whether or not it was worth it to have worked so hard just to walk away. So for a second I searched frantically for somewhere to put that teacher, or some way to infuse everything that she was into someone else, but it was impossible. She’s simply got to be remolded. Sure, some parts of the new work will look familiar, maybe even identical, but I didn’t think about that. For a few minutes, I just let myself feel all the pain of leaving.
And then I went home—to grace.
And I was ready to start the next piece.
But for the record, you will be missed Professor Paula and Miss Jensen. Especially you Miss Jensen aka "The Bomb A." Thanks for infusing so much of you into me. Love, "The Bomb B"
And for the record, I did make normal faces at my students, just not very often.
