"I have lived on the lip of insanity..."

History: A few years ago my classroom was left unlocked, and during the evening of a school event, my laptop was stolen. Now mind you, I used to leave my room open all day, every day, and for over a decade had almost no problems with leaving out numerous things of value (even small amounts of cash). I could count the number of a decades' worth of missing objects on my hand, and their total value was less than the gas money needed to replace them. I took pride in the honesty of my community of learners and trusted in it daily. 

Lost Items: And then my laptop was stolen. I was devastated. Although I do backups, they are infrequent enough that I lost hours of curricular development. Although I use passwords, I could not risk my accounts being accessed and so deleted numerous processes (and subsequently lost hundred of dollars of music and app rights in iTunes). I worried about credit cards stored (encrypted) and changed them anyway. I did not realize how much I relied on my whole life being synced in my "mobile" device-of-choice, a mac laptop. I was unable to effectively maintain the school website, use images and presentation software for my classes, listen to music in my prep periods to sooth my wandering mind. I was way more lost than I would have believed having lost my computer.

Violation: I sank into a bit of a funk. Less smily, more guarded, low energy, I went about my job reminding myself that "I am not my computer." I thought I was adapting to this sudden forced change as well as could be expected. A few days went by and I gave a test to my students on my test day. Although I wandered the classroom and answered questions as needed, I found my mind preoccupied with anxiety and distrust. I felt violated. I felt foolish for feeling violated. It was a laptop worth only a few hundred dollars at best (it was aging and off-gassing: some of it's plastic components were starting to break down.) Maybe I wasn't handling things so well. Was I so preoccupied with my possessions that this would rattle me? Was I so attached to the products of my past work that I was delving into a funk that was unshakable and affecting those around me? What was wrong with me that I was not giving myself to my job as I was used to? Aarghhhh!

Non-Attachment: When I was living/studying in India I kept a journal with all my reflections, poetry, observations about some insights I was having. I was transforming in a positive way, and better yet, I was aware of my growth and wanted to write down my ideas so I could refine them when I came down from the high of my  experience. And then my journal was stolen... most likely by one of the many young boys who hung around our band as we traveled. My teacher suggested that it probably turned into a quick warm fire on a cold morning or was used as toilet paper. He laughed and compassionately said, "maybe it is a lesson on non-attachment for you." It was a tough lesson. I had letters for my girlfriend who I was beginning to think could be a partner for life (I DID marry her five years later). I had reflections on why I had been so lost when I was in high-school. I had little moments of poetry that were clear, and to me felt beautiful, and I hoped to share them with whoever might listen. And regardless of whether my work was cremated or wiped, it was gone. Non-attachment.

Melancholy: It was fall when my laptop was stolen. I love the fall. The fall taunts me with melancholy and rewards me with the smell of cook-fires. The fall is a cold breeze on my face and a cup of hot tea in my hands. I get reflective and I regress. I think the contrasts are what I am drawn to, and which tweak me a bit. It's like chasing a bite of chocolate with a piece of sharp Vermont Cheddar. Nom nom nom. It seems fitting that this laptop incident happened at the end of October. It's always in October; whatever it is. It is hard to explain how October feels to me. The 1995, 10x platinum, Smashing Pumpkins album Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness comes close. My wife asked years ago, "Doesn't it brilliantly define the teen experience with all the conflicting emotions?" I have to agree. It does: Bullet with Butterfly Wings: "Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage." Thirty-Three: "Intoxicated with the madness, I'm in love with my sadness." 1979: "No apologies ever need be made, I know you better than you fake it." Tonight, Tonight: "Time is never time at all, you can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth, and our lives are forever changed, we will never be the same." And on and on...

Test Day Doodles: And so on my test day, in between answering questions and wandering around the class, and while I was not feeling trust nor faith in students, and while I was licking my melancholic wounds of October, I resorted to doodling. In reflection I think I must have been tuned into poem drawings that I've seen my students doing for English class, and I must have been tuned into a poem that is a personal favorite. But what started out as self-pity, angst, a romantic embrace of madness turned into insight and peace. Rumi's poem tricked me to kick open my mind and remember that I am looking for reasons. October was over, November brought promise of more stability, and the kindness of my friends and students washed away the melancholy. Rumi wrote:

I have lived on the lip

of insanity, wanting to know reasons,

knocking on a door. It opens.

I've been knocking from the inside.

The Return: Students figured out in a few days what had happened to my laptop. Their collective outrage, colleagues' offers of help and compassion, the administration's quick support for me, and my family's understanding quickly smoothed my over-reactive feelings of violation. Weeks later the stolen laptop mysteriously appeared in my closet shelved among the books of poetry and Asian wisdom. I had had time to doodle, find some perspective, reflect on my October. The contrasts of wisdom and foolishness, self-indulgence and community, living in the moment and dwelling on lost moments moved into a sweet blend of acceptance and restored trust. What had knocked me out of whack had very little to do with my actual laptop. It had nothing to do with monetary value. I allowed myself to be distracted by the re-injury of lost creative work. But the real pain was the temporary loss of faith and trust in my students. I allowed one impulsive act of weakness to tarnish my feelings for students in general. Foolish man.

The End: And in the end, that one unknown soul who experienced one weak moment found the courage to undo his one impulsive and selfish act. I checked the logs of the CPU processes. They told a story of several attempts to break in, disconnection from the network, further attempts to reboot and login, and finally the death of the battery's charge. And there the logs lose track of the story. The best part of the story remains untold. It is the struggle by one to do the right thing and find a way out. 

Postscript: I should note that I kept the returned computer a secret from everyone save my Principal. Weeks after the computer was "shelved" in my closet I did note that a dear student, lost at times, but very good in heart, repeatedly checked in with me asking if I had recovered my laptop yet. It was curious, his choice of words, his repeated check-ins. He did not share other students' condemnation of the thief. He seemed worried I had not gotten my property back, yet. I never said, "I forgive you." But I did find the compassion to say, "I am sure it was only taken in a moment of weakness, and whoever took it was probably a good person at heart." He smiled at that, and didn't check on the laptop's fate again...