Blog of Jonathan Teel

The following blog is a journal entry. It is unedited and raw. When I mention the Divine, I must share that what I am referring to is not the judgmental God of many religions, but instead what I consider the Source of All That Is and fully and completely loving and unconditional.   Surrender  The phrase “I am not enough” came through strong today to answer the question that was asked me about a belief I maybe holding onto. It came through a sacred tarot card from the RUMI deck. I pulled the Cloak of the Christ card and later read the Passion for Purpose that goes with it. This was the answer to my question about a belief that I am holding onto. That “I am not enough.” Earlier this week, in the field past the neighbors, I stood in the sun on the snow and closed my eyes. Something similar came through to be released related to the notion of not being enough. I asked for this energy from this life and past lives to be released. A lot seemed to be released in the Divine's p...

  After a winter storm, the white fluffy snow sticks lightly to the barren ground. In the sunlight, the snow sparkles of gold and stars. The fallen snow rests upon trees, inanimate objects in the yard, and two large machines, whose landscaping duties have been delayed. It rests upon parked cars and still roofs.  Against the light and blue sky, the landscape below is lit up in a winter wonderland of crisp cold and weekend silence.  New winter boots fit snug on my feet. A new winter coat and some borrowed gloves warm chest and hands while a winter hat holds tight to head and hair. Barish, my dog, prances playfully near me as he awaits our direction. Maybe a walk across the field.  The crunching of winter boots on frozen ground overrides everything. I walk uphill toward shimmering light through still trees. A crow caws from a tree somewhere. The distant sound of a snow blower momentarily pierces the previous silence and then stops.   The destination sits behin...

 I am a teacher this year for a group of 9th graders in Durham, North Carolina, at a public charter school. This is my second year there teaching the same group of students I taught in 8th grade. I have been fortunate to move up with them in grades as they grow and discover more of who they are and what they are passionate about.  It may seem strange to think that these young students could know as much about who they are or what they care about at only 13 to 15 years old but times have changed. Our youth are growing up fast, showing signs of maturity and awareness only befitting of a generation powered by information but also a sense of what's important in life. As teachers, we also have a responsibility to instill in them such awareness and appreciation for what's possible when they trust in themselves.   As the nation moves through another phase of the pandemic and these young people deal with being online and away from their friends in the classroom, we still hav...

I teach a diverse group of 12 and 13 year old 8th graders in Social Studies in Durham, North Carolina. As part of our weekly current events in recent months, we discussed the large protests moving across Latin America. Since I lived and worked in Buenos Aires, Argentina between 2003-2010, I often share stories with them and we reflect on the plight of a large majority of citizens south of the US border and elsewhere.   As a class, we considered the political and social crisis raging in Venezuela, the violence in Bolivia after disputed presidential elections, and the large protests in Chile over mounting public grievances against the government. Public discontent then boiled over in Columbia. They also looked at the presidential election in Argentina that returned a left-wing party to power amidst another possible economic crisis in that country. I observed in Argentina and throughout the region that common citizens were fed up with their persistent economic hardship, pover...

I grew up near a lake, a river, and the ocean in a small town in coastal Maine. I spent my summers on the lake watching sunsets and its play on myriad cloud formations. I marveled at the uniqueness of each sunset and was teased at times for it.  Each moment, however, was different and awe-inspiring in its beauty. I smelled flowers, observed wildlife, and swam with fish. I watched angelic snowflakes fall from the sky upon my face in the wintertime. I was blessed and deeply appreciative.   I grew up with clean air and a fresh breeze off the Atlantic. I played in the frigid ocean and smelled the salty air. I heard stories of intoxicating air pollution in US cities and across the Earth. I was saddened. As any curious kid, I wondered why.  Against the expansiveness of the ocean, there was the majesty of the mountains. I hiked growing up, enamored with the smell of the forest on trails and scaled small mountains. During a gap year, I hiked Volcanoes National Park on t...

A gaucho village beckoned.  It offered silence from the chaos of a city that never sleeps, of honking car horns, dump trucks pounding pot holes, and the buzz of incessant activity.  A gust of wind picked up as I descended from the public bus. It dusted the old cars with dirt parked nearby as well as a group of middle-aged women carrying plastic grocery bags. I observed their sun-beat skin and preoccupied looks with curiosity.   I moved through the village streets with melancholy as if I had been there before in my dreams. To this quiet place of horses, farmland, and simplicity.   I arrived at a park and found shade under a maple tree. I wondered about the last rain when I rested my backpack on grass colored brown. There I contemplated  the quietude of this far off place.  There was a creek and it flowed through the park forming different pools for swimming or dipping. A small waterfall pounded slippery rocks down the hill from me. ...

I walk in nature.  I walk along a trail that leads somewhere. It is nestled into the green growth of a forest whose trees reach the sky. The singing of birds echo in my ears, each with a distinct song and message. One bird here and one bird there.  I hear the branches of the trees as they sway in the subtle breeze. I notice my footsteps on the dirt path. A dog barks in the distance but I know it is not mine. My dog, Barish, is near, jumping over fallen trees, smelling the scent of animals, and investigating the home of a creature below the ground.  The trail takes me to a stream. Flowing water fills my eyes, ears, and heart. It tries to calm the endless thoughts that rumble through my mind like freight trains. I walk over a footbridge and it bounces against my weight. From my view the stream now sparkles in the sunlight, its rays pouring down from the heavens.   My busy mind continues unabated even if nature is slowly winning. I walk along a straigh...