As a new semester begins, I have no reason to be anxious. I have taught the same courses before and my school’s DEI initiative, which I lead, is well into its third year with trainings and events lined up for this academic year. I will be undergoing a major faculty review this term, but even then, I’ve submitted the best teaching portfolio I could muster and I’d like to think that my record speaks for itself. No reason for any trepidation whatsoever, right?
Well, fact is, I do feel a little apprehensive. Not a surprise, really. Last fall was tough and traumatic. I was accused of racism and antisemitism and was grossly overwhelmed by the demands of my diversity role, which was, is, supposed to take but a fraction of my time and energy. I could see myself careening into a wall but couldn’t stop. I crashed spectacularly. I was tempted to walk away from it all.
Thankfully, I didn’t. I had the ear of friends and the wise counsel of colleagues. The spring semester was mostly uneventful and over the summer, I purposely and selfishly slowed down. I set boundaries and took care of myself. And I leaned on philosophy. Not the esoteric kind, but the practical sort that helps us lead good lives. In particular, Buddhism, which I’ve subscribed to for years, and Epicureanism and Stoicism, which I lately discovered.
From Zen, I sat and calmed my thoughts. From Buddhism and Epicureanism, I remembered that suffering and anxiety stem from inordinate desires. From Stoicism, I accepted the fact – or am trying to anyway – that few things are under my control and oh so many others are not. From all, memento mori, life is fleeting.
So, here I am. I’ve done my best and intend to continue doing so. That I can control. What I can’t control is the future and how those around me think and act, so to quote Alfred E. Neuman, “What, me worry?”