I'm glad David's moving back in. He and I know each other very well, laugh at each other constantly, and can read each other's faces and bodies like a book. It's a great comfort and sometimes a pain in the ass. But more often than not, a comfort. Now I have to clean up my act because he's alert to my tricks and faults and loves me anyway. Shit!
Meanwhile, everyone empathizes at how violated I must feel. At the risk of sounding like a fake-o Pollyanna, what I'm impressed with is how much love and support I'm getting. Tim generously volunteered a laptop--my most pressing need. G. and Ellen helped me set it up and get plugged in again. A friend offered information on backing up files, and another music box--which is so generous I don't think I can accept it. Wing It! people gave hugs and sympathy.
Angela even offered to help me tweak and safely store my resume. (Theresa, I finally found your blog--it's fantastic! and saw the one where your resume is posted and thought, "That's a great idea!") And on and on. The worst part of being a "victim" of anything is the isolation a person could feel, and I don't feel isolated. I feel like throwing a big party for everyone who has helped me through this and I will.
Great teaching moment: talking about mysticism in the third grade (a propos a poem of Lalla, a 12th century (I think?) mystic from India,) and having a student clutch his head dramatically and say, "You're blowing my mind!"
There is a Lake
There is a lake so tiny
that a mustard seed would cover it
easily, yet everyone drinks from this lake.
Deer, jackals, rhinoceroses, and sea elephants
keep falling into it, falling and dissolving
almost before they have time to be born.
--Lalla (translated by Coleman Barks)
That's what it's all about...