Tomorrow marks the beginning of yet another semester at the college where I teach human services and psychology.  I’ve been teaching at the college level for 28 years now and still, after all this time, get excited and anxious as I look forward to the first class.  Today I was shopping for “school supplies” – new highlighters, new brightly colored pens for grading papers, and a few more of the mechanical pencils I love.  I no longer grade papers with a red pen – purple, green, pink, orange, turquoise – anything but red.  I started using other colors years ago, when I couldn’t find a pen in my desk, but then began getting comments from students who appreciated that I didn’t use red ink.  Many of my students are adult learners, many of whom have been out of school for a long time, and may not have had the best experiences in school when they were younger. A student once remarked to me that the red marks all over her papers brought up an image of her own blood being spilled…a graphic reminder of the blood, sweat and tears she’d poured into her work, only to have the teacher tear it apart.  I promised myself then and there never to use red ink again.

I love working with adult learners because they bring with them a wealth of knowledge about life.  They are often scared, to be sure, but they are so excited and motivated and they challenge me in ways that keep me sharp.  I’ve often been asked if I don’t get tired of teaching the same classes year after year.  Truth be told, while the subject matter may be repeated year after year, the students change the climate of the class and the energy they bring creates a new experience for me time after time. 

So while my job title is “Professor of Human Services” my work/life is really about sharing who I am and what I’ve come to know, and learning at least as much from my students as they learn from me.  I am well and truly blessed.

Namaste….

According to Dictionary.com, eclectic is an adjective, with several possible meanings:

“1.  selecting or choosing from various sources,

2. made up of what is selected from different sources,

3. not following any one system, as of philosophy, medicine, etc., but selecting and using what are considered the best elements of all systems.

I have an eclectic approach to life it seems, drawing from many different ideas and philosophies; enjoying many different types of art, music, literature, food; and seeing beauty in places where others might not.   Perhaps this explains my interests in aromatherapy, energy medicine, Reiki, jewelry design, Gregorian chant and good old rock’n'roll, and the fact that I’ll read nearly anything that is put in front of me, from biography to Harry Potter to historical novels, and most anything in between. 

So why am I telling you this?  Because my intention for Wise Woman Chronicles is to share what I’ve learned in my 57 years on this planet, in hopes that it will make a difference in your journey. 

Thank you for reading.  Please come back again.

Namaste.

I’ve been a college professor for nearly 30 years. One of the joys of being a college professor is seeing the joy on my student’s faces when they reach goals they’ve set for themselves.  Last year I worked with a wonderful group of students, most of whom were in their thirties or even forties, most of whom had never attended college – nor had ever thought they’d have that chance.  For some, the idea of graduating from a specialized program seemed so far out of their reach, but they learned to take it one step at a time.  Soon I’ll be beginning the year with another group of students, one of whom recently said to me “I wish I’d done this when I was 18.  I’m 40 now.  I’ve wasted so many years. What if I had done it back then – where would I be today?  Or sometimes a student will say ” I’m 35 now… it will take me at least 5 years to finish my degree. I’ll be over forty.”  To which I’ll often reply “And how old will you be in 5 years if you DON’T go back to school and work on your degree?”   The point I’m trying to make is that the time is going to pass, whether we are working toward our goals, one step at a time, or not.  The following story is one I plan to share on the first day of class this year – it’s a story of having a goal, and working toward it, and ultimately, achieving that goal.  It’s a story that was sent to me by a former student who found it inspiring and suggested I share it with my students. “Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. “I will come next Tuesday, ” I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.  Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren. I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”  My daughter smiled calmly,” We drive in this all the time, Mother.”  “Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears – and then I’m heading for home!”, I assured her.  “I was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my car.” “How far will we have to drive?” “Just a few blocks,” Carolyn said, “I’ll drive. I’m used to this.” After several minutes I had to ask, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the garage!” “We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn  smiled,”by  way of the daffodils.”  “Carolyn,” I said sternly, “please turn around.”  “It’s all right, Mother. I promise you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.” After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small > gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church I saw a hand-lettered sign “Daffodil Garden.” We got out of the car and each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped.  Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes.  The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. Five acres of flowers!  “But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. “It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house. On the patio we saw a poster: “Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking” was the headline. The first answer was a simple one: “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and very little brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.” There it was. The Daffodil Principle.  For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun-one bulb at a time-to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world. This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.  The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time-often just one baby-step at a time-learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.  

“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years.  Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”  My daughter summed up the message of the day in her direct way.  “Start now,” she said. “

I, for one, am going to start now – start to work on the goals that are important in my life.  I’m going to start now, one step at a time.

Welcome to Wise Woman Chronicles, a place to share ideas about a variety of topics including women’s health, aromatherapy, herbal medicine, energy medicine, dealing with the stressors of life…you name it, we’ll probably talk about it.  I welcome your comments and ideas.