The school year began 47 days ago. That is also about the amount of time I have spent away from this site. Away from this site and, mostly, away from writing.
Up until this week, I have kept on with nightly writing before bed, and morning art in a sketchbook. I even ventured back to the library to pick up some books about art and art styles. Though I could not read for most of those six weeks, as I still recover from eye surgery, I could follow the IKEA-like directions in many of these art books.
The book on drawing and shading with colored pencils was a particular feat, as it taught me how to layer and smear, erase and smudge. My drawings still amount to little more than cave scrawls, but I am proud of my progress. If nothing else, drawing and using the books as an at-home course in technique and style allowed me to do something creative while my left eye recovered and my right eye worked overtime.
Both of these pursuits screeched to their annual halts earlier this week, as the non-teaching task of Camp intervened. The planning, operation and direction of our school’s Camp is such an all-consuming task that almost all other parts of my life enter their September holding pattern.
This was the fear I knew and, as I was prepared for it, it did not surprise me. These creative pursuits sustained me leading up to the full-life-pause that is the week of Camp.
Now that Camp has ended, I am staying ahead of my other fear.
Last year, when I discovered just how large the task would be, I put aside everything else, including family obligations, and any rational sense of when to stop. The comeback from the full-stop was unexpected.
Every October since I began teaching, if I was not busy with work at the zoo, I dipped into a Fall funk. Last October, the Fall funk was the worst one yet.
So, even as I allowed pieces of my life to fall away as we got closer to Camp, I made plans for how to stave off the worst parts of the Fall funk as soon as I returned.
My eye bubble is almost faded, which means I will have no restrictions on workouts. I have an on-line art class that will begin soon. I have already written our annual Halloween letter (our version of the Christmas newsletter), and I will be able to read the printed page, as long as I have good lighting.
Reclaiming these lost pieces of life should not be o difficult.