Let’s Begin Again

“Let’s begin again.” I say this to my students when we need a restart in class. Usually, I say it more than once a day.

I say it to myself just as often. I’m beginning again right now, today, after a lovely weekend away that gave exactly what was needed. A change of rhythm, a change of scenery, a change of perspective.

When I left town on Saturday, it had been two weeks since I’d done a thing that broke my own heart. It killed me to do it. It’s killing me still, if I’m honest. Letting myself really think about it like this stings in a way that makes my body reflexively flinch.

But there’s something magical about changing one’s surroundings, stepping out of the daily routine. Doing that let me hover above my own experience a bit, as much as anyone can, and see the situation with more objectivity. The conclusion? First, it’s all cliché. Second, it’s all paradox.

Falling in love feels like the most unique experience, yet there’s nothing unique about it at the same time. A broken heart feels the same- singular, and the worst, and no one can possibly understand because this love was extraordinary. Except everyone who’s ever had their heart ripped out and stomped on understands. There’s nothing special about any of our broken hearts, and at the same time, they’re supremely special to each one of us.

Lovely Eau Claire

So I began again this past weekend in Eau Claire, WI, because there’s important work to be done. And because I’m certain that when we humble ourselves and ask for help, help is given, we had an event at school this week called the Courage Retreat. Perfect timing, at least for me. Students (and adults) learn to understand and name their fears, commit to acts of everyday courage, and deepen their relationships. The intention is that the retreat inspires courageous acts that uphold what is good and right, whether or not others are watching.

When the students asked if I liked the Courage Retreat, I replied that I did. They questioned how I wasn’t bored with it since I do it with my seventh graders every year. It took me a minute to answer. Why do I always walk away from the retreat feeling a bit more equipped to human?

Then it came to me. The world is ripe with opportunities for courage. But sometimes we forget what we stand for and need to begin again. We forget that courageous acts can range from small to big, and that each one has a ripple effect that matters. We also forget that the way we show up in our homes, our work, our communities- everywhere we go- matters. It matters a lot.

And isn’t that what love looks like? Courage, even when it feels like we’re all alone and untethered? Even when the outcome is uncertain, and the only thing we know for sure is what our heart is telling us to do? Courage to begin again.

I think so. I think that’s exactly what love looks like. Courage.