OLW and inner poet

Slice of Life is supposed to be a narrative, a scene, a story. When I ask my students to write, I look for detailed description, dialogue, stretched out action, inner thoughts and feelings. I ask them to keep their eyes open, remember what they notice and sense, capture the emotion. I have come to realize myself that sometimes slice of life means looking inward instead. To carefully listen  to the sounds of mind and heart takes patience and heightened awareness. The need for that kind of slice of life comes on the days when the inner world is stormy or eerily empty. I don't know where I am right now. My class is packed and school is over. I have had several days off already, but my mind is not in the summer yet. I am still tired. I don't know what exactly do I want or expect. It's not that I have hidden myself or done nothing. My home looks better, I went to the movies and visited a friend,  I have read for hours.

On days like this One Little Word should help out. My word for this year is "Strawberry." Some of you may have raised your eyebrows because OLW is usually a verb. I chose a noun instead.

I set some wishes for myself. Looking back at the first half of the year the word has served me well.
I wished to:
be healthy (I took a course about healthy eating, exercised regularly, guarded my emotional health, nurtured my mental health) 
be sweet and kind  (listening, sharing comments and compliments, forgiving, breathing)
be calm (more breathing)
be varied (pursuing my own interests, working with a friend, participating in bigger groups)
be bold red 
be rounded (balancing my life)
be playful, whimsical (Did you notice my photos? I secretly drew too)
be someone who would make people smile and laugh and feel good

I think I have been true to my word.
The one line that confuses me the most is the one about being bold. I have stood up for what I believe is right. I have reached beyond my classroom walls and I have been active in Estonian Reading Association. I tried writing poetry. I dared to participate in Twitter chats.   Yet somehow in my writing the wish to be bolder keeps returning. Like in My Little Red Teapot. When my students wrote about their inner poets, I wrote too.

My inner poet

is a wild strawberry

wishing to be admired for its boldness and beauty,

Yet being afraid to be squished, discarded

Or worse 

being eaten alive

So I prefer to hide

My inner poet dreams of faraway places and imaginary worlds

But stays rooted in one place, surrounded by ordinary

My inner poet occasionally wishes  

To be a pomegranate or granadilla

Or
Pretends to be a ladybug, taking off ground


After I finished writing I realized that I wasn't speaking of my poetry writing but rather of myself in general. I feel as if my view is partly hidden and I haven't figured out what I really want. Maybe that's where the boldness has to surface, to look deeper inward to discover secret wishes and dreams, to may be dream bolder first. Because it is easy to be bold in the areas where you feel you have the knowledge and experience and some sort of safety net around. Or maybe boldness means letting go of comparisons and looking for approval, and instead smiling broad because I am me.

I look forward to the summer and getting back some energy. I hope this will give me some stories to share. I will keep my eyes open, remember and record what I notice and sense, capture the emotions, and write some slices.