The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second [...] Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning. [...] The universe is fluid and volatile.
The key to every man is his thought [..] The life of man is a self-evolving circle, which, form a ring imperceptibly small, rushes on all sides outwards to new and larger circles, and that without end.
But if the soul is quick and strong it bursts over that boundary on all sides and expands another orbit on the great deep, which also runs up into a high wave, with attempt again to stop and to bind. But the heart refuses to be imprisoned.
I open my eye on my own possibilities.
Life is a series of surprises.
Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. The way of life is wonderful; it is by abandonment.
I've been feeling overwhelmingly nostalgic. I miss my connection to literature, whether that be as a student in an English classroom or a teacher in front of the classroom. I've been trying to find balance between the joy and gratitude I feel at being a stay at home mom and the desire I have to use my various other skill sets! So, to achieve that balance, I return to my favorite authors and the underlined passages I've reread so many times in my life.
This past weekend, we camped in our backyard. After enjoying a neighborhood concert and dancing with our friends, the Whitfield 4 returned home under the full and bright moon and snuggled in our tent. After a few stories and some flashlight games, Sophie fell asleep. And sweet Cameron snuggled and quietly giggled and whispered in our ears. Eventually.... he fell asleep... but none of us enjoyed a gentle night of sleep! Doug and I heard some large animal walking feet away from us, the moon shone so insanely brightly inside the tent, the kids tossed and turned, I realized that I'm still sleeping in the same sleeping bag I've had since my days at Camp... I didn't sleep well and at moments, I lost sight of the "joy in the journey". Worried about how my poor night's sleep would affect the next day, I considered sneaking inside to my bed away from the kicking legs and arms and snoring bodies.
But, early in the morning, as I lay wide awake, listening to the various sounds of birds around me, I heard our neighbor's garage door open and car doors shut. I heard our neighbors hug their college daughter goodbye, tell her that they love her, wish her a safe drive back to college, and remind her of their pride in her. I listened to the younger daughter say goodbye to her big sister. As the garage door shut, their daughter's car drove out of the driveway, and the summer season officially and swiftly transitioned for our neighbors. I looked around at my son snuggling with my husband, at my daughter curled up sound asleep next to me while still holding my hand ...and I had a moment of wisdom and clarity.
The various circles of time blurred together and simultaneously, I teared up, saying goodbye to my daughter as she backed out of the driveway headed back to college. I held back tears as I saw my son wave goodbye to his best friend. Yet, in the midst of my emotion, I still felt present, relishing and embracing the deep breaths of Cameron lying next to me, Sophie's lovies crowding my pillow, the hard ground underneath my cold sleeping bag. In what will feel like a blink of an eye, Doug and I will be transported from this family camping adventure to newer and different, ever-expanding circles of life. I snapped back to the early-morning details, reminded that these stages, which often seem overwhelming or mundane ultimately blur together to create the most beautiful life.
And provoking lines of Emerson's essay echoed in my mind as I cherished this early morning {sleepless} adventure in the tent.
The use of literature is to afford us a platform whence we may command a view of our present life, a purchase by which we may move it. We fill ourselves with ancient learning, install ourselves the best we can in Greek, in Punic, in Roman houses, only that we may wiselier see French, English, and American houses and modes of living. In like manner we see literature best from the midst of wild nature, or from the din of affairs, or from a high religion. The field cannot be well seen from within the field. The astronomer must have his diameter of the earth's orbit as a base to find the parallax of any star.
