Why, do all my poems seem historical (or hysterical)? Because they are. I experienced a spinal-lumbar injury (at work) in September of 2000, that essentially ended my career (as it was previously understood).
I hung around my place of work for about 3 years, and then got acquainted with disability/retirement. What have I done since then?

I studied, tested and practiced a bit of Legal Nurse Consulting.
I studied at UC Davis and got a Certificate in Financial Planning. (sheesh, that was difficult!)
I studied Massage Therapy, and I graduate TOMORROW!!!!!!!!! This is where I belong. Along with the Registered Nurse, that I will always be.

My Massage Instructor, was getting ready to move on, but he hung around for just one more class.
Following, is my tribute to a fantastic teacher:

The Teacher

I've graduated
At last hurray,
The year went by
From then to day,
And it's more exciting
Than my previous time in college,
Where I got a grasp
On financial knowledge.

Way back then
3 years ago,
I was a stranded victim
Learning that I didn't know,
Enough to practice
On my HP-12C,
Financial knowledge
Was like Greek to me.

Along about, last summer
Craigs'list caught my eye,
I could study Massage Therapy
For a year, on the fly,
And right then I remembered
Where I was 3 decades ago,
Studying the rudiments of Touch therapy
Acupressure and Jin Shin Do.

I leaped at the chance
And chanced at the leap,
It didn't cost much and I wondered
Would the instructor be cheap,
But life is funny sometimes
It delivers unexpected,
The custom-ordered teacher
Arrives, as if directed.

I suspect the other students
Recognized him, as the best of teachers,
But if you've followed a similar path
There is another set of features,
Hidden beneath the surface
Known to those who traverse the same,
I know this teacher was directed
Am I worthy, to play in his game?

When the Guru or the guide
Intercepts the path you travel,
It's time to get your act together
Or for sure, it will unravel,
Because, so often they arrive
At our crossroads, of hesitation,
Where it's time to grasp the horns;
Accelerate and levitation.

The gratitude and thanks
Are sometimes difficult to convey,
Words seem shallow and so temporary
They come and go each day,
But the feelings of the heart
That are powered with the Shen,
I trust the Teacher can interpret this
These simple scribblings from my pen.

Fibril_late; 8/22/07
(aka: mojomassage)