Tiny Beautiful Things
I'm all into the big feels because my son is going to college soon and I'm 50, in mid-life and staring down its famous crisis. The end of the school year is so chaotic that there's not a moment's peace. Now that it's June and I have time to decompress, I'm all in the big feels and they're being fed by some feely Instagram accounts.
There's a beautiful and enlightening one that I follow called Oxherd Boy. It's a webcomic by Regina Linke, a Taiwanese-American artist whose comics reflect issues happening in her family's lives. Her Buddhist messages are delivered through primary characters of a boy, his ox, his grandfather, and some of his friends. The comics are simple and soulful and remind me a lot of this little gem.
I was scrolling her account today and stumbled upon this comic. I noticed that the quotation is from a MAN WHOM I ADORE--Fred Rogers. Do you love him, too? Last year, I read this book. It's practically all yellow for all the highlighting I did. His messages of unconditional acceptance and love shatter my heart to pieces. One of the most simply beautiful moments between two people that I have ever witnessed is this : "It's You I Like." What a profound and magical idea, isn't it?
Think of your best friend. You like the person just because you do, flaws and all. I believe that's because human connection
and human criticism don't live on the same planets. It's like good and evil--one is the opposite of the other, and they can't occupy the same space at the same time. "It's You I Like" simply because you're you and because whatever human connection we forged fills up a similar space in each of us, and that connection leads to loads of laughter, joy, understanding, and love. "It's You I Like" because I like our connection.
This Oxherd Boy comic quotes Fred Rogers, "The connections we make in the course of a life--maybe that's what heaven is."
If you read my previous post, you know that I've spent recent years on a journey of self-discovery. I've always wrestled with the big, existential questions. That's why I became an English teacher, after all. As I shed some bad coping mechanisms (Girl Scout cookies, passive aggression, and irresponsible spending to name a few), I had to evaluate where my happiness was and wasn't coming from.
A lot of journaling and reading led me to understand something most people, especially songwriters and Mr. Rogers, already know:
Love is a person's highest purpose.
I like the way Cheryl Strayed said it. Do you know Tiny, Beautiful Things? If not, buy it right now and message me immediately after you finish it. If you are a big feeler like me, you'll love it.
"Tackle the motherfucking shit out of love." Loving big means being vulnerable to big hurts, too. Often, when we suffer those as young people, the hurt feels so profound that we armor-up and suffer its heaviness for years to come if not for our whole lives. Sometimes, it feels safer to carry the weight rather than open ourselves up again to hurt. That's much easier said than done, I know. Brene Brown talks about it here.
Teachers are in the unique position of being paid love-givers. They, along with therapists, nurses, and clergy, are trusted with that enormous responsibility. An essential part of our jobs, and one that can't be taught in college, is to love--to connect--to understand--to empathize. Great teachers are great connectors. I can remember a few teachers with whom I connected. Can you, too? I cried to several of them over the years because I was wearing some big, heavy armor and didn't know how to manage it. I don't remember that any provided answers that led to drastic change, but I do remember the connections. I remember how I felt with them when they were listening to me. That's what a connection is, maybe.
I've had some students cry to me, and when they do, I feel honored and important. Being a teacher is an important job, and it's easy to forget that small truth. Under the avalanche of paperwork, training videos, initiatives, committees, and curriculum is a person whose job it is to inspire people. A child who is suffering trusts us; what a beautiful thing.
My school does a really cool ceremony each year called "Personal Choice." Teachers can give an award to a student with whom they forged a connection. I wrote about one of my PC recipients in this post. I awarded one to a student two years ago whom we'll call Travis.
Today, OUT OF THE CLEAR BLUE SKY, his mother sent me a text. I have no idea how she got my number, and I don't care. It was such a tiny, beautiful thing. She texted this quote about perseverance, and then she thanked me for believing in her son when he didn't believe in himself.
At the time I gave him this award, I had no idea that he felt discouraged and that he needed to know that he was capable. I had no idea that he was feeling the hard things. What a tiny beautiful thing that I happened to be the one and now, years later, it STILL MATTERS.
We matter. We matter so much. Being entrusted to give love and compassion, being trusted to connect are tiny beautiful things, and I don't take that lightly.
I invite you to listen to this podcast where I talk more about connection, Cheryl Strayed, and tiny, beautiful things.
XOXO,
Meredith