Recipe for Rejuvenation

Three years have gone by and I am sitting in the exact same lecture hall, in the front row, while the hungry eyes of the undergraduates try to figure out where my good side is and how they will secure a seat for themselves on it. We, the teaching assistants in the front row, are the graders. As professor drones on about grading percentages and study habits, I can feel the eyes of the students boring their way into my brain. The power they think that I have is imagined, largely because in a class of 200 students, I cannot even keep track of their names. There will be no favoritism, no easy A’s. This doesn’t discourage the students from flashing enthusiastic smiles, laughing too hard at my jokes, and boldly stopping by to introduce themselves to me after class.
We are all trying to be noticed. No one wants their genius to go unrecognized, their voices to be lost in the thunder of the trees falling in the woods. I wish that I could sit with every one of these fresh minds and have them tell me their most brilliant moment. Instead I sift through essays, and read carefully from the lines, and sometimes try to read between the lines, searching for the wisdom I once had but have forgotten. I have changed, and the shoes they are wearing don’t fit my feet, which have grown calloused from traversing paths of resistance. I am more guarded with my battles now.
Walking swiftly from the classroom, I am floating in a sea of bouncing backpacks. The occasional bike whizzes by. Scruffy teenagers and twenty something’s wave paper flyers with caged and tortured animals bearing the PETA logo. There was a time where I would have talked to them. A bearded man hands out information on socialism. I did not stop to hear about where and when the meeting will be. A young boy wearing a tie recites the King James Bible. I ignore him.

I feed the love in my heart and it repays me with an abundance of energy. It sweetens the mealy apple, and fills my day with meaning.

Recipe for rejuvination:

Find someone.
Anyone.
Sit with them for a bit.
Listen to their words, and hear what they say with their actions.
Don’t try to help them.
Don’t try to think of answers, solutions, jokes, or something to say to break silence.
Forget about your own problems and how they relate to theirs.
Just let them talk.
Be with them for the discomfort between words.
Offer love.

Now go home and repeat this recipe for yourself.
Find yourself.
Here.
Sit with yourself for a bit.
Listen to your words and hear what you say with your actions.
Don’t try to help yourself.
Don’t try to think of answers, solutions, jokes, or some thought to break the silence.
Forget about their problems and how they relate to yours.
Just listen to your thoughts.
Be with yourself, even though it may feel uncomfortable.
Offer love.