100 Days Away from Home…it might have been otherwise

Looking East

Today the reading on the “Count Up Clock” caught me by surprise. It marked a moment in my life worth celebrating – 100 days away from the comforts and surroundings of home. I left Calgary on January 7, 2007, and 100 days later I am in the beautiful Coromandel Peninsula on the North Island of New Zealand.

Life could have been very different.

The thought of “what might have been” got me thinking about a poem I heard 3 years ago when I stepped into Brian Madill’s classroom at LTCHS in Red Deer. First, Brian is an awe-inspiring teacher who taught me more about teaching and learning in a 5-day practicum than I could have ever learned otherwise. He continues to be one of my muses.

The poem “Otherwise” was written by Jane Kenyon in 1996. It is a poem of gratitude about the simple pleasures in life and it stands as a strong of all the small fortunes we experience every day. Kenyon died several years ago of cancer.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Kenyon’s poem has carved a place in my personal life as well as my teaching life. I share this with students during studies of poetry and ask them to write their own “Otherwise” statements or poems. The results fit a broad spectrum -- humorous, silly, serious, poignant.

So on this 100th day I remind myself that things could have been otherwise. I could be sitting at my dorm desk in Lethbridge, listening to the howling wind and watching the snow fall as I cram last-minute details into my mind for one of many finals I would be preparing for as the semester winds down. I might be putting the finishing (or beginning!) touches on final essays. I might be watching “Prison Break” with Sam or Leah, or packing my things for a move back to Rimbey. I might have been out on the town for Tanner’s birthday, or recovering from Last-Class-Bash.

Today I was humbled by all the big things surrounding me – the huge passageway of Cathedral Cove; the vast and unbound Pacific Ocean; the colossal Kauri Tree that towered over me. At one point, while on the beach, I let some sand run through my fingers and I examined the last grain that remained in my palm. This triggered another poetic connection to my favourite poet, William Blake, who said “to see a world in a grain of sand…” and I was reminded of the fact that all these magnificent “big” things surrounding me are all made up of smaller fragments. Without all the little things there would be no beautiful beaches, no big trees, and no voluminous oceans.


A view of Lonely Bay from Shakespeare's Cliff

From inside Cathedral Cove

The Lone Kauri Tree -- look closer and you'll see me at the base.

My life would be very different if it were not for New Zealand. This opportunity has been so necessary in learning about myself and the world I live in…but more importantly each day is a reminder to appreciate the little things, and each breathtaking scene is like an alarm clock prompting me to appreciate the fact that I am currently in New Zealand, achieving goals and living a dream. It could have been otherwise.

We all play a small part in the bigger picture, and every person and place we meet with our eyes, mind, heart, and soul leaves an impression – big or small – and every encounter and experience adds more to our life story. It could be otherwise.

Thanks for reading,

L.