Just over a month ago, following a much-needed pit stop at home, I packed my things into my car, recruited my little brother to bring the rest in his truck, and made the familiar journey from Terre Haute to Muncie.
muncie beginnings.
Author: Michael King
Writer. Chases joy. Working to share the mess and the magic.
words of inspiration.
Friends, I am presently steeped in the training process. The past two weeks have been filled with happy reunions, excellent friends old and new, and quite a bit of information to juggle. And, one day, I might tell you all a bit more about that. But not right now. I’ve got stuff to do. In the meantime, I thought I’d share a few song lyrics with you. These song lyrics, as you might guess, have all been there to embolden my steps and push me forward some time over the past few years. They are written on my heart, and as such, I feel compelled to share them and their brilliance and hope that they may so encourage you. Until later, peace and blessings and love and, if there’s time, needless calories. (There’s time.)
the time-in-between.
Confession time: Sometimes I break the rules I’ve set for myself. While I will emphatically profess it is always best to wash the dishes before going to bed, I sometimes wave the task away and collapse into my comforter instead. I’ve napped in contact lenses, used “literally” in a sentence that didn’t require it, and had ice cream twice in one day. This is the joy of writing one’s personal Constitution: There’s always room for an amendment or two.
This blog entry serves as the culminating product of two such rule breaches: (1) don’t be in your office past 8 PM ever, and (2) don’t wait to blog about something until it’s no longer chronologically relevant. Looking at it here in my drafts folder, I couldn’t bring myself to (1) leave the office or (2) delete the draft, and so here we are: a reflection on my time in between grad school and the move to Ball State.
big new day.
At 9:43 this morning, I woke up to find a rainy Tuesday outside my window. Settling into my favorite sweatshirt and corner of the living room couch, I cradled my iPad and opened Spotify. Today was the day, I suppose I decided, to start a new playlist. A playlist for the next chapter. And I decided to call it “Big New Day.”
Over the past few weeks, I have moved through my life with an unsettling sense of being in limbo. It makes sense, really. The beautiful, chaotic blur of grad school drew suddenly to a close, the treadmill belt beneath my feet fading to a stop and my lungs thirsty for air. Somewhere along the line, perhaps out of survival, I lost touch with the art of relaxation. I have no thesis deadline looming, no conduct conversation to plan for, no RA staff to meet and laugh with. In some ways, this has been exactly what the doctor ordered. Time with family, time to breathe, time to plan for the next big adventure. But, each morning, I’ve woken with a bit of uncertainty as to what I should be committing my time to.
closing eiu.
A little over two years ago, at the tail end of a rigorous grad school search, I found myself driving home from an on-campus interview at Eastern Illinois University. Prior to my visit, I was hopeful that this place might feel “right.” That I would somehow be given some sign that this was the correct next step. As I drove home, my mind racing over my interview answers and the interactions I had with staff and students at EIU, I found myself fighting with hope. I wanted this. I wanted it badly enough to allow the pesky, vulnerable light of hope in.
A few days later, in the muggy ambiance of my room in old Botswin (my A/C unit had recently checked out of the relationship), I fielded a phone call and, heart racing, I breathlessly accepted an offer. I was going to EIU!
at the end of a decision.
Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to sit down and FaceTime with my good friend Maya Dub. Like a few other people in my circle, Maya is not a huge fan of me putting her business out there on social media. Suffice it to say that we met as RAs, that we once held a muffin war and helped plan a prison party, that we adventured in New York City for a summer, and that she never left that place. Some friends are more like siblings. So it is with Maya Dub.
Maya and I are both important people who lead tremendously busy lives. When the stars align and allow us a moment to converse, then, we waste no time with niceties. Immediately we steep ourselves in a series of audacious, unapologetic debates and critiques on the state of the world and the meaning of life. We speak as though we are proclaiming the secrets of the universe, as though we are on a pulpit delivering our personal brand of wisdom unto the masses. It’s a rich experience, and, every now and then, one of us comes up with something good.
two big steps.
This past July, following a summer of internship and adventure in Indianapolis, I packed up my life and made my way back to Eastern Illinois University. Pulling onto campus, hugging old friends and meeting new ones, settling into a new apartment, I felt – for the first time – the pressure of two very significant journeys ahead: the Job Search and the Thesis.
These would, I recognized in that moment, characterize my entire second year of graduate school, occupying my mind in the quiet moments and happily stepping in to fill the blank slots in my day-to-day schedule. Standing at the edge of April, I realize that I was not wrong. The journey for each has been long, complex, and full of opportunities to learn and grow. As of the past couple of weeks, however, they have each come to a resolution. Two big steps in the adventure.
final fantasy vi.
I love stories. At the absolute core of who I am, all polished skillsets and learned priorities aside, I love stories. And I found that love very early on in my life, telling my first and second-grade teachers I would write books one day. When I reflect on it a bit, I recognize two catalysts for my love for storytelling: my grandma, whose animated and insightful recollection of her life often entertained me for long stretches on road trips, and Final Fantasy VI.
Known at that time in the U.S. as Final Fantasy III, the video game came into my brother and my possession when I was around the age of 5. Just beginning to read, I would watch him play the game and follow complex characters through a riveting, twisted journey. Twists stole my breath, characters tugged at my heartstrings, and the seed was planted: my obsession with rich narratives was kindled.
here i come.
It’s been a little while since I last wrote. There’s plenty to blame that on, I suppose. A building full of students finding their stories. A graduate thesis to bring to life. Plenty of snowfall and polar vortices. A return to the runner lifestyle. Making the most of my final semester of graduate school. And, in the cracks of time in between, a job search.
It’s strange to think I will soon find myself embarking on a new adventure. It seems only a handful of days ago that I made my way to Charleston, Illinois, driving cautiously and curiously onto a new campus. Graduate school has been challenging, beautiful, and fast, but that’s for another blog entry. This one, I think, is focused on the next step.
a piece of my story.
This past weekend, the Louis V. Hencken chapter of NRHH held its Spring Leadership Conference. During the third program session on Saturday, I facilitated a program called “Find Your Voice, Write Your Story.” Inspired by notions already discussed in this young weblog, the presentation essentially revolved around the idea that a leader must know her or his voice before writing a story. Baxter-Magolda’s Theory of Self-Authorship provided the framework, and I used the “i am” activity from the previous post. Something, however, seemed to be missing. The morning of the conference, in a moment of inspiration, I decided to include an influential piece of my story (and influence on my voice): my weight journey. The following slide helped illustrate that moment:
When the time came to share the story, I found myself feeling the side effects of vulnerability — clammy hands, shaky voice, pumping heart — but I pressed onward and shared as bravely as I could. Afterwards, after revealing the photo on the right of the slide, the students in the room applauded my progress. In the moments that followed, the students in the room opened their hearts with tremendous courage and shared pieces of their story that greatly impacted the message of the presentation. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my graduate journey to date.
Today, during some reflection on the program, I decided to share that slide of the presentation. The response has been tremendously kind and supportive, reminding me to be grateful that I was ever able to take this step. As such, I am yet again setting out to write and share this piece of my story. I hope that I can do it justice.
michael king 