#18: Vagility

In Chile, where friendship and family are very important, something happened that can be explained only by the effect fear has on the soul of a society. Betrayal and denunciation snuffed out many lives…. People were divided between those who backed the military [Pinochet] government and those who opposed it; hatred, distrust, and fear poisoned relationships…. Chileans learned not to speak out, not to hear, and not to see, because as long as they were not aware of events, they didn’t feel they were accomplices. (p. 160) 

My Invented Country by 

Isabel Allende

I haven't been able to gather my thoughts enough to write a post since the school shooting in Parkland, Florida last week. Not that I didn't have anything to write. Instead, I would say that my mind was a sea of swirling thoughts that either shouldn't be shared, because they were unproductively laced with emotion, or couldn't be shared, because they lacked cohesion. Such an event requires the reflection and restraint of a blog post both weighed and measured (in contrast to a Twitter rant, for example) in order for its message to be both appropriate and responsible.

I was thinking of the reality that our world is shrinking. Our population now tops 7.5 billion, currently increasing by 83 million per year. (To feel the impact of such growth, you can watch the numbers increase in real time here.) In turn, as our population increases, the land per person logically decreases, meaning our neighbor's address is inching ever closer to our own. Add in technology's ability to break down barriers and bring any information, events, and beliefs from anywhere on the planet directly to the Smartphone at your side right now and you might even say that our neighbors never asked permission but have unwittingly moved in with us, nonetheless. 

Animals have seen a decline in their vagility, their ability to roam freely and not have their migratory movement impeded as discussed in an article just published in the journal Science. In our shrinking world, humans are increasingly encroaching on natural habitats and altering them significantly, leading to the growth of a new field of study called "movement ecology." Likewise, humans are seeing their vagility decrease as well as we encroach on one another in innumerable ways beyond the straightforward physical. As a result, our future will depend on thoughtful study of human movement ecology as well as deep discussion and debate in order to reach compromises despite our differences. The survival of "I" will demand we increasingly think about the "we." Somehow, we are going to have to figure out how to not only coexist but rather thrive together on this small planet, where we might not have it all but certainly may have more than enough.

Perhaps, it would simply help, if we all began to pay attention more. To the well being of others. To the lives others live. To the views others hold. To the values that underpin those lives and views. To things as they really are not as we want them to be or are told by others that they are. To the impact far and wide of our decisions big and small that reverberate well beyond our own personal space. Paying attention requires steadfastness and constant effort. Paying attention takes the focus off of ourselves and places it on the other, our co-inhabitants within our mutual context. It tempers our demands for individual rights with a sense of responsibility for the well-being of all. 

Heather Lende wrote in her blog that paying attention is like prayer and prayer is like meditation and meditation is like mindfulness. I would take it one step further: for me, mindfulness expands the imagination. Suddenly, new possibilities emerge within the overwhelming complexity of living. At least, this is why I pay attention. This is how I pray. And, this is how I come to the conclusion that thoughtful, reasoned and straightforward gun laws are essential within the crisis of school shootings. I am not talking about laws that ban guns completely in violation of the Second Amendment. I am also not talking about laws that knickknack about, failing to deal substantially with the issue at hand in an attempt to appease without truly changing anything. 

I unequivocally believe assault weapons in any form must be banned. Background checks must be universal and strictly enforced. Gun ownership of any sort must come with required training and certification with regularly required renewal -- we demand nothing less of driving a car, for goodness sake. Why? Because the lives of our children and all our fellow Americans are more important than anyone's desire for unrestricted gun ownership. Further, I am an educator and the public letter written by a furious teacher from Richmond, Virginia resonates with me to my very core and should be read by everyone, including you.  "Hardened schools" as our president proposed are completely antithetical to the educational ideal we hold for public education as well as the Preamble of the Constitution:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Let us not forget that the Amendments to the Constitution rest on this foundation of general Welfare, domestic Tranquility, and the Blessings of Liberty. I didn't see our nation advancing these fundamental commitments in Parkland last week and we, the people, must no longer stand by as accomplices but rather demand better. Our vagility and rights must be tempered for the greater good. Such sacrifice is worthy and appropriate as spring approaches. Let us vigilantly pay attention and lead with our imaginations for a better society rather than remain mired in the fears and manipulations advanced by others with selfish intent. In this way, paying attention may finally lead to just actions, in memoriam for those senselessly lost yet full of hope for those still to walk through our school house doors and beyond.

#17: Prose

The 21st century public psyche seems to be fickle. On the one hand, discourse revolves around the future, fueled in part by technological changes and an entrepreneurial spirit. Think driverless cars or a mechanized workforce or virtual reality. The coming revolution rests both on an optimistic outlook in our ability as humans to solve problems as well as push beyond the limits of our imagination.

On the other hand, social media spreads advances as fast as lightning. This alone ignites anxiety in us to get on board (and fast!) or risk obsolescence. Even worse, each advancement ignites fear. The speed of change provides little time for reflection on the inherent complexities or preparation to brace for impact or discussion of associated social ills. Think drones or genetic modification or cell phone addiction.

The other day I came across Welcome to the Post-Text Future in the New York Times. The piece explores a phenomenon: the reading of text on a screen is out of fashion, being replaced by audio and video. The words of our online world in blogs such as this are being replaced by sound and image. Think YouTube or Instagram or Netflix. Clearly, communication is changing with both positive and negative outcomes. I found the following quote particularly thought-provoking and disconcerting:

Then there’s the more basic question of how pictures and sounds alter how we think. An information system dominated by pictures and sounds prizes emotion over rationality. It’s a world where slogans and memes have more sticking power than arguments. (Remind you of anyone?) And will someone please think of the children: Do you know how much power YouTube has over your kids? Are you afraid to find out?

Emotion over rationality equals easy manipulation, no? Further, so much of what underlies the discussion of technological advancement is laced with grief for all that is being lost from handwriting to blogs to newspapers. Will our human communication be enriched with an increasing diversity of means of expression? Or will prose be lost along with the rational discipline it demands, relegated to the graveyard by memes and slogans? I wonder whether we ought to embrace a doomsday scenario.

In many ways, I do worry about the future. Yet, I believe in the insatiable desire of humans to express themselves, fundamentally by speaking and writing. Communication is essential to the survival of living things; by extension, language and creativity are essential to human expression. As such, we may be in for a bumpy ride as we add new forms of pictures and sounds to our daily lives, but my own yearning to write is a testament to the power of language and our desire to interpret experience through prose.

Friday night, I photographed a February sunset. The lantern beckoned from the drive. The sky spoke in streaks of color like the ribbons flowing from my daughter's hair as a child. Fuchsia screamed. Indigo bled. Violet relented. Light stretched through the darkening trees that towered overhead. Nature had me in its grip. I couldn't move despite the tugs on the leash from the dog who had had enough and finds nighttime unsettling. I persisted long enough to snap a photo and pen these very words in my mind. For the photo endures as do the words. Technology will change our lives. Yet, I wrote, I write now, I will write tomorrow. Prose abides.

I will write until the day I die, or until I am robbed of my capacity to reason. Even if my fingers were to clench and wither, even if I were to grow deaf or blind, even if I were unable to move a muscle in my body save for the blink of one eye, I would still write. Writing saved my life. Writing has been my window—flung wide open to this magnificent, chaotic existence—my way of interpreting everything within my grasp. Writing has extended that grasp by pushing me beyond comfort, beyond safety, past my self-perceived limits. It has softened my heart and hardened my intellect. It has been a privilege. It has whipped my ass. It has burned into me a valuable clarity. It has made me think about suffering, randomness, good will, luck, memory, responsibility, and kindness, on a daily basis—whether I feel like it or not. It has insisted that I grow up. That I evolve. It has pushed me to get better, to be better. It is my disease and my cure. It has allowed me not only to withstand the losses in my life but to alter those losses—to chip away at my own bewilderment until I find the pattern in it. Once in a great while, I look up at the sky and think that, if my father were alive, maybe he would be proud of me. That if my mother were alive, I might have come up with the words to make her understand. That I am changing what I can. I am reaching a hand out to the dead and to the living and the not yet born. So yes. Yes. Still writing. (227) 

Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life by Dani Shapiro

#16: Listening

I am teaching George to take a walk. Being a Dachshund-Beagle mix, our 8 month old puppy is easily distracted. The hound in him is led by his nose which means he meanders widely and stops frequently to investigate. More importantly, he is led by his eyes and ears which means his fright and flight response is easily triggered. If he sees deer, strangers, or trash bins, his first instinct is to make a beeline back to the safety of the house. George responds similarly to sounds; a loud truck in the distance, a low flying plane overhead, a leaf blower, or a dog barking elicit the same response. As his walker, my ears are similarly attuned as I try to anticipate his reactions and calm his fears. 

Today, our walk was mostly uneventful, yet winter in Virginia continues to delight. The sun, stillness, and temperatures in the 40's welcomed us as we stepped outside. The ice that formed overnight and coated everything after yesterday's rain had largely melted. The earth slowly soaked in the moisture, and we slowly soaked in the sun. We were not alone. Unlike the winter weather farther north, where nature tends to be silenced by frigid temperatures, deep freezes, and the necessity of migration and hibernation, nature comes to life with the smallest amounts of encouragement here. I listened to no avail for startling sounds and instead heard birds in full song.

Feather and fowl of many species remain all winter long in Virginia. Here, one need not wait for the arrival of the first robin as an early sign that spring has arrived. Rather, a flock of robins seems to have settled in the neighborhood, forming a congregation divinely sanctioned to entertain in song for the fortunate listener. And, the robins are not alone as I could easily identify a Titmouse, Nuthatch and Chickadee among the bare branches and decomposing leaves of February. I worked at listening to be sure I didn't miss the woodpecker in the distance or the deer that blended in as masterfully as George to our landscape. 

I have been thinking about the art of listening often lately and even remarked to my husband that perhaps we ought to teach listening skills in school as much as we teach speaking skills. Listening means so much more than simply being quiet until it is your turn to speak. Listening means being able to see the world from the point of view of another and being willing to concede the speaker may have a point of view worth considering. Of course, listening is essential to finding common ground, and humility is essential to listening. Only arrogance can lead us to the conclusion that our experiences and viewpoints are always correct for everyone in every place and all time, no?

I received a most surprising compliment from my younger daughter last week. We were talking about her guidance counselor at school, who responds quickly to her requests and questions, never fails to find time to support her, and listens to her concerns with great empathy. My daughter said, "Mom, I think you would have made a great guidance counselor, because you are a good listener, too." Of course, I allowed myself to relish the moment (Take it when you can get it!) but not too much. 

I do believe that I am a good listener, and my husband often exclaims that he can't believe what others share with me in short order. However, I also know that I need to work at it so that someone's name, for example, doesn't just go in one ear and out the other. Moreover, I need to listen so that the end goal is not to silence the other but to respect the simple existence of another. Then, conversation and even debate might not only be possible but also productive and enriching for both parties. If we listen well, we might sing a different song as surprising as the birds in a Virginia winter, each unique and significant to nature's chorus as a whole. Even George knows that this is something you don't want to miss, something worth exercising despite our shortcomings and fears.

The Winter of Listening

David Whyte

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,

what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.

Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.

All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.
Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.

So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.

#15: Public

From our inception, nothing may be more American than division and our struggle to unify the whole. Pilgrims were Puritans a segment of Separatists from the Church of England which had splintered from Catholicism. The Founding Fathers struggled with who would be granted the right to vote and deemed only landed white men to be worthy of the honor. In large part, they also failed to see even a glimmer of their own humanity in Native Americans and slaves. Need I continue? I can only surmise that so much of our division must be attributed to ignorance, arrogance and fear. 

Yet, I take heart that division has continually been challenged throughout our history. The process has been painful, slow, incomplete, and repeatedly challenged, but we do engage in a process of civil engagement and overwhelmingly agree that this is invaluable itself. Further, I remind myself that from the very beginning our nation has deemed public spaces to be forums of great importance. Libraries, parks, schools, playgrounds, museums, and recreation facilities were built to eradicate divisions and create community with the well being of the public in mind. What do these public spaces have in common? They are supported by tax dollars and governed by a board to serve the public interest. They are open to all on a voluntary basis and generally free of charge, particularly to those in greatest need. 

I am a product of public spaces. I went to public schools and a public university. I have been a regular patron of libraries my entire life. I spent numerous hours at our local park, playing on the playground, swimming in the pool, sledding, skating, taking classes, cheering teams, and enjoying fairs of all sorts. I made annual pilgrimages to the museum with my family or on school field trips. And, I have tried to engage my children in these same practices in hopes that they might also one day value public spaces for their contributions beyond the self to the larger whole. 

Public spaces are venues for the common good. Here again, the common good rises to the fore of my thoughts. Last night, I attended my younger daughter's symphony orchestra concert and fine arts showcase at her public high school. I also organized the refreshments for the event, meaning I sent out a sign up sheet, shopped for a few supplies, and worked on logistics before, during, and after. Families and friends donate generously so that everyone can not only find nourishment post-performance but also find time to connect and catch up with others in the school community. Students always express deep gratitude and generally one lanky teenage boy emerges from the shadows at the very end to help clean up and mop up the leftovers. I adore this.

The time I volunteer is quite limited but the reward is always more than good measure. Our high school pulls from a broad socio-economic and cultural base drawn both to the outstanding arts program as well as the diverse community that sometimes struggles with difference but fundamentally values diversity and its common good. I generally leave exhausted, having shed some tears at the beauty of the work presented and lamenting how often we demean, misunderstand, and undercut our public spaces. Segregation and all the -isms are in play as well as our incessant complaining about taxes. Public spaces reflect not only the challenges that face our citizenry but also the flawed institutions that underpin them. As a result, they remain imperfect while also invaluable.

Public spaces work to erase division. They educate. They practice hospitality to all who may enter. They promote safety and personal growth. They bring understanding and foster camaraderie. I write today to laud the work of our public spaces and the benefits I have received in their graces, lest I ever complain about the cost of a museum ticket or the limitations of a recreation facility or the failures of a public school, Beyond my gratitude, public spaces need my commitment and investment as well as yours. How about a humble visit to a public space, particularly one outside of your own neighborhood? There might be no better way to re-engage in the common good and the personal benefits may be inestimable as well.

Public Space

Ken Babstock

Wandering wordless through the heat of High
Park. High summer. Counting the chipmunks
who pause and demand the scrub stand by
till their flitty, piggybacked equal signs can think
through this math of dogwood, oak-whip, mulch.
Children glue mouths to ice cream and chips, punch
and kick at the geese, while rug-thick islands
of milt-like scum sail the duckpond's copper stillness -
Over-fat, hammerhead carp with predator brains . . .
We can wreck a day on the shoals of ourselves.
Cramped, you broke last night and wept at the war,
at the ionized, cobalt glow that fish-tanked the air.
We're here to be emptied under the emptying sky,
eyes cast outward, trolling for the extraordinary. 

#14: Baffled

"Form serves us best when it works as an obstruction to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work and that when we no longer know which way to go we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings." Poetry and Marriage by Wendell Berry

I know that my mind is truly baffled when I cannot even decide what to prepare for dinner. Although I do need a break periodically, I love to make food, to try new recipes and prepare old favorites, and to introduce new flavors to my family's palette. Most of the time, my family plays along happily. I also have a tendency to set food goals like Meatless Monday or a lettuce salad to accompany every dinner or the inclusion of more beans and legumes in our weekly menu. So, when I can't find any inspiration or direction when it comes to dinner preparation much less writing, I know the problem largely points to my personal well being.

At least once a week, I seem to find myself distracted and lacking focus as if I am carrying all the cares of the world on my shoulders and cannot be bothered with the day's work. I could blame this on social media or my hormones or the weather or a poor night's sleep. Trust me when I say that the list of culprits could go on and on. However, I know that I really have no one to blame but myself. I work at home and write at my desk in my office, a solitary endeavor the majority of the time. Silence, not solitude, is the real issue. I am learning to consciously cultivate external silence which in turn gives voice to my internal thoughts and desires. Soon, the words I string together are authentic. I feel centered and ready to tackle any task, including dinner.

I try to cultivate silence each day at home by following these guidelines:

1. See the family off to work and school;
2. Complete a small list of daily chores;
3. Turn the TV and radio off;
4. Quiet the dog and cat;
5. Check email -- be ruthless in unsubscribing and deleting invasive messages and responding solely to mail that builds relationships or increases productivity;
6. Uninstall any application, software, or social media platform that is not essential or in line with #7;
7. Engage in bits of reading that inspire the imagination and challenge thought;
8. Make a concerted effort to each out to one person each day by telephone, email, or snail mail, particularly friends and family spread far and wide, to maintain healthy and supportive long-term relationships;
9. Walk the dog on our daily neighborhood loop no matter the weather and breathe; and
10. When scheduling, be sure to leave a three hour block open in the morning or afternoon.

I build my daily routine around these ten steps. Although I can't say these guidelines help me do my best work, I believe they help me do steady, productive work. My goal is to turn writing into a practice rather than a periodic endeavor. And, I hope to be able to better direct my baffled mind and sing with clarity as I cobble together words on the page as best I am able, impeded yet unencumbered. And, also always ready to share a meal.