To end is to begin…

“There is an end to everything,

to good things as well.”

– Geoffrey Chaucer,

Troilus and Criseyde

It was a quiet day. Actually two.

Monday morning was different because I didn't wake up thinking about ‘Henry Albertson,’ a character that had consumed me for several weeks. While meant to be comedic relief for a ‘life metaphor’ that is the musical The Fantasticks, there was a certain pathos to this fellow and his companion attempting to relive adventures of irretrievable bygone days.

Henry was like an earworm from the beginning of rehearsals. Early morning walks, driving in the car, practicing in the back yard, nodding off to sleep, first waking thoughts, even those nocturnal dehydration moments…yes, playing the character of Henry was an all-consuming adventure.

When Monday arrived though, there was not a whisper of thought for that character that had been so much a part of me for several weeks…He had slipped into the nether regions of my mind, evaporating like a nocturnal apparition in the early dawn.

The cast? That was a different story. As the day passed, I visited each of them. Their smiles, voices, energy, backstage green room humor, and camaraderie drifted like a neuron fueled scrapbook across my mind, reminding me of the human and theatrical experience.

The plan was to start the day getting ready for the summer physiology class that begins at the end of the month, but I was more tired than I had anticipated. Monday, then, was a reverie of thought, a little rest, some exercise and mental refreshment.

Tuesday arrived with much the same sense of the gentle and generous folk with whom I had played, prepared, and performed. But I could feel the tug of anticipation beginning to build for the next project.

Now a different day…

I had needed the time to reflect and immerse myself in remembered hard work and pleasure of being part of a team on the stage. Now it was time to turn the page. This one a solitary voyage where instead of Henry, it would be hormones, heart, respiration, the immune and other systems occupying my mind. For me, in its own way, as exciting as being involved in a theatrical production.

The next few weeks will be filled preparing to teach an accelerated eight-week hybrid physiology course to youngsters interested in a nursing future (Hybrid meaning half of the course is lecture and half online). It will be a new experience for them and me. Whereas a regular semester is sixteen weeks - each week dedicated to a different system - this course will present a new system with every lecture. The material comes a lot more quickly with much more attention and responsibility placed on the shoulders of the students.

When I taught last fall, it was a traditional lecture-lab-test format. I hadn’t been in the classroom for many years and it was the easiest way to get back on the horse. For the shorter course, I’ll use an active learning model, meaning the students will be a functioning part of the learning experience. They will work in small groups and will even do a little teaching themselves.

Life is not static…

New experiences involve change. Change often acts as a roadblock because it requires stepping through doorways when it is unclear what is on the other side. It is the willingness to say ‘yes’ that makes the difference. It would be disingenuous to suggest there have not been helping hands to encourage me through a number of those doors. We are, after all social creatures that depend on one another. Many who have helped me, may never know who they are…some do. Those people know who they are.

Embracing the unfamiliar is no less uncomfortable for me. There is the looming ever-present specter of failure, with which I am intimately familiar. And yet, I have been driven to engage the unknown throughout my life. Discomfort is an old friend with whom I have become accustomed. The key? Don’t look back and take the next step.

Wrapping up…

I sent out an email recently with some pictures from The Fantasticks. An old army friend with whom I have kept contact wrote regarding Henry, my character: “Your willingness to completely humiliate yourself is your greatest asset.”

I could not have received a greater compliment.

- ted