This Too Shall Pass

I had intended to be here for five months, but the curve ball of life suggested otherwise. So on February 28th I begin my journey east, ending at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. (More on this in a future post).

Seattle has been a good place for me to "chill" during my first sabbatical month. The 4,200 mile drive here was amazing, and when the clouds part over Seattle, it would be difficult to match a more majestic view of a city: lakes, snow-capped mountain ranges (the Cascades and the Olympics), and of course Mt. Rainer. Breathtaking! On the other hand, when it rains and snow, the place can be depressing and bone-chilling cold.

There's a certain pleasure found in being in a city where you're unknown. I can't walk 10-feet in Bloomington before I run into someone I know, but here I'm invisible. I don't need Alex's invisible cape; here I'm just not seen. It's taken quite a while for me to get used to this, and now it's more fun than not.

As my partner Doug would tell you, it takes me about two weeks before I can begin to relax while on vacation -- and that's only if I "disconnect" from email and phone; it has taken me longer here, but I finally feel I'm on sabbatical: what a gift. I now realize that it was a mistake not taking advantage of previous opportunities to take sabbatical leave; this should have been my fifth, but it's only my first! (Note to self on next life: take more sabbaticals and vacations!)

If you've been following this blog you know that my two priorities were to build the Glerb business and write a book on Design Pedagogy. In my mind, Glerb was the higher priority; now it has become secondary. It's probably a blessing in disguise because writing a book is no simple task and this allows me to focus on my writing. This week I have several meetings with University of Washington design faculty and students. What I'm discovering is that our program at IU is still "state of the art" in HCI design education; we are blessed with an amazing faculty, and students are not likely to fully appreciate them until they graduate. But other schools are catching up quickly, and so we must always innovate and expand. We always need to be "looking over our shoulders."

Yesterday I had a strange day. I even called Linda Hostetter to tell her about it (I figured she could use a good laugh). I drove to my favorite library in Bellevue (about 8 miles from my apartment and across Lake Washington). When I got out of my car I looked down and noticed that on my left foot I was wearing a gym shoe, and on my right foot I was wearing a brown leather shoe. (You may wonder how I managed to do this; my two pairs of shoes were sitting on the floor next to each other and I picked up one and not the other. Clearly my head was somewhere else.) Given that I'm not a "shoe fashionista" like Jeffrey Bardzell, I drove the 8 miles back home to replace the leather shoe with my other gym shoe. Eight miles back to Bellevue I felt a lot better entering the library.

When I got home last night there was a small package slipped under my door. Inside was a letter from Gopi, including a beautiful story told to him by his uncle. What also fell out of the package were about 30 index cards with personal messages addressed to me from the IU graduate students  -- cheering me up and telling me that I am missed. I was overwhelmed by these acts of kindness. We all need to remember that we are loved, and my students helped me know that in their special way. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, thinking of Ed Rice's note about contraction and expansion. Inhale and exhale.

This too shall pass...