My electronics are slowly dropping out of my life. My SLR was stolen a couple months ago, and today my toddler dunked my Smartphone. The loss of my camera still rankles, but the missing phone just brought relief. I've got a love/hate relationship with that device and considered getting rid of it many times.
Once, my phone went missing Erev Yom Kippur and I didn't buy a new one until the end of Cheshvan (5 weeks later). I didn't miss it. In fact I wrote a great piece about the 5 weeks of serenity. In my quest for perfectionism I never posted it, but I'll dig it out at some point.
So I'm thinking of holding off this time...
I'm done with "smart"phones.
Done with 6000 messages.
Done with entertainment apps.
Done with my kids using my "personal" device.
Done with always being on-call.
The Grand Dump happened as we were getting geared up for the park. I was hanging laundry. Mendel was outside with me, holding my phone. That normally wo…
The bottom line is, I need to be at peace with whatever decision I make. It really can work both ways. This, then, is the dilemma of choice: Choosing.
There's a recurrent theme on this blog (and in my life!) I'm a teacher. I'm a mother. And a person somewhere in between... I constantly strive to hit the perfect balance. I'm sure I'm not alone in this struggle. Currently the struggle is taking shape in the number of subjects I've committed to teach. Roughly two weeks ago I gave notice to my head of department that I'd like to drop a subject. The transition period was (is) rife with regret. I just can't let go. I keep rethinking the decision.
Intriguingly, a student asked me if the Tanya had any advice for decision-making. I loved the question - I could so relate. My nature is so indecisive and when choosing between right and right, well... the responsibility is on me and it's just not too fun.
On my Shabbos morning walk I churned out the following so…
The decision brought immense relief and sparked stores of creativity. Suddenly I was writing novels, cooking gourmet, animating videos and teaching my daughter's prep class. No longer shackled to the bell, I felt free.
But deep inside myself I knew it would not happen. I couldn't really quit. Though I hadn't felt it in months, I knew that I'd once loved my job. Only.... not as a job. I'd loved teaching because it filled me with a sense of purpose and mission. I had a shlichus to do and ready-made keilim sitting in front of me. The frustration and resentment only built up when I started viewing teaching as a job. It wasn't so much about the dollars and cents.