I know.  This Random Thought is so quick upon the one I sent out 
Saturday.  But,
it suddenly appeared yesterday and is pent up inside me, and I'll burst if I 
don't get it
out and share it.  So, please, be collegial and understanding, and bear with me 
because I
think it is that important.

        Do you know how many of us commit sacrilegious acts?  By that I mean 
far, far too
many of us, as my friend, Bri Johnson, wrote to me, don't love our fates; we 
devalue our
challenges; we don't allow ourselves, as Nietzsche famously said, to become 
stronger by
that which does not destroy us.  Bri and Nietzsche were saying that life in all 
of its
aspects just doesn't always go the way we want, and there isn't anything we can 
do about
that.  Yet, to wish for a life free of challenges is to wish for a life in 
which it would
be impossible to find any kind of real fulfillment.  It's our responses to and 
handling of
those challenges, large and small, that we can find valuable and magnificent 
opportunities
to see into, to learn, to develop, to grow, and to accomplish.  

        I told a dear e-friend, that a serious, life-threatening illness, like 
any
personal or professional challenge or adversity, becomes sacred when we decide 
to let it
educate us, when we decide to let it alter us from the inside out, when we 
decide to let
it tell us to live life to its fullness, when we decide to let it provide 
experiences and
knowledge and emotions that we could not possibly acquire in any other way, 
when we let it
guide us onto a meaningful and purposeful course, and when we decide to apply 
all that
learning to our personal and professional lives.   What makes any challenge,
disappointment, or adversity a sacrilegious or sacred event, tumultuous or 
peaceful, is a
matter of our attitude towards it.  So often, too often, we let ourselves be 
distracted,
diminished, slowed, or stopped by a piling up of negative and dismayed "why me" 
or forlorn
"I wish" anger, anxiety, frustration, and/or resentment.  That heap hides the 
potential
peace hidden underneath and the possibility of bringing it to the surface.  
Such it was
with my near-death cerebral hemorrahage.  I have virtually no memory of that 
week in ICU,
but Susan tells me that on that first day there, I told her that if I come 
through this,
whatever the physical or mental consequences, we will not live in fear and 
anger, that we
have to be at peace with what had happened and not live anxiously with what 
might happen.
You see, until I had the CTA scan and we spoke with the neurosurgeon last 
Thursday, we
knew that I had come through the experience unaffected, but we did not truly 
know if the
prognosis was that I was going to be a walking time bomb and some day something 
would pop
without warning, and my lights would dim or permanently go out.  But, let me 
tell you
something, during those seven weeks between the time of my hemorrahage and the 
time when
the surgeon told us that there was no aneurism in my brain and a hemorrahage 
would not
happen again, that peaceful acceptance and the willingness to learn from it, 
opened the
door to everything.  Let me tell you another thing.  There's a power to inner 
peace.  In a
quiet, calm, relaxing, and healing repose, I could connect with what is truly 
meaningful
and valuable in both my personal and professional life.  Coming from an 
experience with a
freeing perspective of peaceful acceptance rather than from a negative and 
up-tight
perspective of fearful and anxious tumult, whether we're talking about a 
life-threatening
cerebral hemorrahage or a challenging student or a quest for tenure or 
promotion or
applying for a position or securing a publication or pressure from colleagues or
administrators, or anything and anyone else, you have a truer sense of 
authenticity, a
greater trust and deeper confidence in yourself and others, a sharper clarity 
to your
thinking and feeling and doing, a greater depth to your understanding, a more 
sensitive
empathy for others, and a greater desire to live your vision.   

        I realize more intensely than ever before that if I want better 
students, I have
to become a better person.  So, I've been asking the ultimate question of 
myself:  what
can I both as a person and teacher do better for the betterment of someone 
else?  By that,
I don’t' mean merely stuffing someone with information; I don't mean only 
developing
someone's so-called critical thinking skills; I don't mean only honing 
someone's technical
or technological know-how; I don't mean only credentialing someone for a 
professional
position; and, I don't mean coming up with improved classroom methods, 
techniques,
technologies, and assessments.  However, they important all that may be, they 
don't
collectively stack up to helping someone help her/himself to become a better 
person and to
live life to its fullness.  

Make it a good day.

      --Louis--


Louis Schmier                                
http://therandomthoughts.edublogs.org/ 
Department of 
History                  http://www.newforums.com/Auth_L_Schmier.asp
Valdosta State University             www. halcyon.com/arborhts/louis.html
Valdosta, Georgia 31698                 /\   /\  /\               /\
(229-333-5947)                                /^\\/  \/   \   /\/\__/\ \/\
                                                        /     \/   \_ \/ /   \/ 
/\/   
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                                                       //\/\/ /\    
\__/__/_/\_\    \_/__\
                                                /\"If you want to climb 
mountains,\ /\
                                            _ /  \    don't practice on mole 
hills" -



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