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Life is beautiful lately. My life is unfolding in the most beautiful way.

I've always been sort of a neurotic, anxious person. As I described in my previous post, sometime last summer I began the process of letting go; I think I was tired and seduced by the sun, and the spell that kept me in a sort of self-made prison was broken. I feared it wouldn't last into the winter, but it very much has.

Although I still have far, far too little teaching work, the quality of my teaching has improved. I'm more confident, more adept, and I feel more relaxed standing in front of a class. I had a few troubling experiences last year, but those really served to vet me. Nothing can touch me now.

I'll be taking the YKI testi in April, which I'm not terribly worried about. Should I be? While I'm well below the ylin taso, I think I have a firm grasp of the things that I anticipate will be on the keskitaso test. Don't worry - I'm studying my ass off regardless. It's good for me to do so anyway.

I see a therapist. I started seeing her last winter when the depths of my depression and the burden of my anxiety were too much to take. I see her less often now, once every two or three weeks, and I think our sessions will conclude altogether fairly soon. She's given me a really beneficial, third-party perspective on who I am and why.

She once described an autobiography she'd read about a Rwandan genocide survivor. This woman, as you might expect, led a life of twists, turns and uncertainty. My therapist said, "I thought of you and how there are many, many ways in which to live a life."

I was kind of stunned by the comparison. It seemed almost crass. I have never wanted for food or shelter, nor have I ever, ever feared for my life or for the safety of my family. I am certain that my cushy existence bears little resemblance to that of this person. Still, I think what she meant was that I've led a rather strange life. I've made strange choices. There's been a fair amount of upheaval and tumult, although both are a result of my own meandering whims. It was surprising and enlightening to realize this.

In a sense, this tendency to meander is something I've really got to watch, observe and keep in check. In another, it's something I must to some extent accept. I'm not a person who's ever had average desires or plans. Hell, I'm not someone who's ever had a plan at all. It might be nice if I did, but I simply don't. All I have are tentative ideas about what might come to pass. That's not to say that I don't desire to work towards something; on the contrary, I feel a need, a compulsion to carve a productive, happy place for myself. I just have an overwhelming sense that life, opportunities, circumstances and seemingly innocuous choices will lead me to places of which I cannot even dream.