Synchronicity abounds

Caroline Myss tells me from my stereo, "Our time has come."

 

"Change everything you are, everything you were, your number has been called," sings Muse as I pull out of my garage.   "Our time is now."

 

Synchronicity abounds. 

 

This was a few days ago, before I being back at school, before early morning alarms and late afternoon lethargy.    If I am not moving my eyes begin to droop.    Already, the fears and worries begin, though with a new twist:  will I lose the synchronicity of each moment, the ability to vibrate in tune and in harmony with the world around me if I cannot make the time for meditation and stillness? 

 

I stand in front of my class a mirror.  I do not let their negativity and manipulations pull me in.  Even my 5th period, which I hoped would improve with two months maturity and the loss of a few particularly disruptive bodies, I use all my energy to exude calm and acceptance and tolerance.   They sabotage every activity and I offer praise for what is done.  I move around the halls of this energetically toxic world shielded by a bubble.  I am lucky to be able to leave in the afternoon.  The bubble allows the bumps and pokes to bounce off, returning to its source, hopefully a bit dulled. 

 

There is so much more to life, I want to declare to complaining and competing colleagues at the lunch table.  

 

There is so much more to life, I want to declare to distracted and disheartened students posing apathy and nonchalance. 

 

However, transformation is slow, it cannot be forced upon the unwilling, but must come from within, a million personal revolutions bursting forth with light, sweating out the toxins like a one running for their life.  

 

Perhaps there is a synchronicity for each ball of energy that walks into my room that I cannot (and may not ever) see, that is not so obvious as Muse echoing Myss in my own personal soundtrack.