All this talk of grounding techniques reminds me of a trick I came up with a couple of years ago to get my worrying mind off the poisonous thoughts of “oh no!” and “what if?” while I’m trying to get to sleep. I simply turn my mind loose on the fantasy of a school.
Okay, you already knew I was weird. No sense accusing me of it now.
A school for homeschoolers.
Essentially, a place to gather with others interested in the same subject or to work independently. A place of resources, mentors and a culture of learning. A place where the adults want to learn as well. A place of no grades or tests. A place where there is a program in place to graduate if that is the path you choose, if your dream is to become a doctor or some other career that requires going to a university. But instead of being driven by governmental edicts, learning will be fueled by interest, curiosity, will, passion. Instead of being treated like miserable little factory workers or, dare I say, untrustworthy prisoners, students will be respected as thinking individuals. The culture of learning will inspire responsibility and serious application of brain &/or body power to chosen tasks, whether they be a study of calculus or drawing with crayons or planting tomatoes.
Hey, it’s a fantasy, what can I say.
There would be workshops of all sorts: art studios, music rooms, a stage with back rooms full of costumes, an organic garden and greenhouses, mechanic garage, computer lab, library, kitchen, sewing area, as well as a couple of academic classrooms for people who wanted to focus on headier subjects. There would be a huge playground and lots of athletic equipment and fields/courts so that kids and adults could run out their wiggles.
Don’t ask me how we’d pay the electric bill. I’m not allowed to think about things like that. Makes me too tense and leads me back to worrying.
I’m only allowed to imagine how the garden would be laid out, where the strawberry patch would go and how many people would be out enjoying green beans right off the vine. I’m only allowed to envision how tall the shelves would go in the library, and which books we absolutely MUST have and how many window seats we should put in. I can only wander the hall and see a group of kids giggling and running out to play before lunch while another older group sits on the edges of their seats arguing about which design of recumbent bike would be most efficient, occasionally glancing around in anxious anticipation of the arrival of the resident bike guru who will help them begin construction.
I can enjoy the thought of a meeting of the writing group, a gathering of adults and teens who trust each other enough to share words and ideas and help each other express themselves to the world. I can imagine the ‘zine they would put together and distribute to everyone they know.
And pretty soon I’m asleep.
I wonder if someday I will fall asleep thinking of these things, but instead of being fantasies they will be memories of a dream come true.