weighted

When you care about something, it gets heavy. Now you have to make the right choices or things clash. Should I stay or should I go? If I stay there will be trouble... Well, you get the idea. Carrying about the process (or even just the outcome) means that any added or subtracted will on your part puts you either closer or farther from your goal. You no longer can remain neutral.

Put it this way, if my service was World War 2 and I wanted to see the Allies win, then not engaging my students, sticking it out in my house and letting the cards fall as they may is the equivalent of not fighting Nazi Germany. To not fight the good fight then is to allow (one could argue even sanction) the fall of much of Europe, the fall of my class and my village beneath evil Nazi hands.

So, that's all very heavy. It matters what you do. It is a good heavy. It leads to responsibility and accomplishment if you do not give into that nagging voice of self-doubt squirming its way into your thoughts. It becomes even more so when you are unable to eat for three days.

It also has surprising consequences. At one point this week, I was sick enough that for three days I could not eat (I literally ate one bowl of rice and a couple of tomatoes in that time) and was trying to adjust to the 105 degrees in my house (115 outside). It was uncomfortable, the large type of uncomfortable. Yet, I was (and surprisingly so) not miserable. While the responsibility of getting up and going to class to teach anyway (there are NO subs) was heavy and the weight was harder to carry being sick, it did not make for misery. I was not happy but neither was I in the depths of hell. Having that weight of care and responsibility meant that I know why I am here. At any point, it is my choice to stay and do this. I do it willingly and that's a great and general positive.

Thus, the weight feels good, strengthening. Sickness and heat come and go. Living up to those ideals that really mean something to you means letting go of the misery in the discomfort. The discomfort hardly diminishes (nor my desire for popsickles) but my spirits are good. Especially when I realize that I may be sick but I've still got a class full of kids dying to learn the words to "Head, Shoulder, Knees and Toes".

P.S. Mom helped teach English in Pekanbaru and once showed me her students. I will always remember her teaching them Head, Shoulders... so I blame my wonderful Mom for the idea. My kids loved it! Who knew they'd pick up that vocabulary so much easier now!