September ... Again

September ... and the university cycle begins anew.

My inner clock reminds me that it is once again time to revise my course outline. Check the syllabus for a consistent path to learning outcomes. Review the reading list ... and as I find familiar passages in provocative readings, the corners of my mouth smile in anticipation of debates yet to come.

However, this year it feels different.

This year, I can see the end of my journey, the culmination of my teaching career.  It is as if I were at the end of the magnificent corridor of plane trees on the Neckarinsel in Tübingen, and a brilliantly lit clearing, where the Allee ends, beckons to me.

I have much to accomplish, wonderful heady challenges as I wander along that magical path between the majestic stand of trees.  But I will reach that clearing in four short years, and I am both excited and saddened.  I alternate between "Walk faster!  You're almost there!" and "Slow down!  Savour the smell of autumn leaves!  Linger along the sun dappled path for just a bit longer..."


Herbsttag, my favourite bit of Rilke that is ripe with the melancholy of ontological realization and cathartic resignation, has a new and an especially intimate meaning for me this year.

  Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
  Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
  und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.
  
  Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
  gieb ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
  dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
  die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.
  
  Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
  Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
  wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
  und wird in den Alleen hin und her
  unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.