"Beauty is not caused. It is." ~Emily Dickinson

Here is a monochromatic caricature I did of poet Emily Dickinson in oil pastel during my Painting class.

The Trouble with Poetry

The Trouble with Poetry: And Other Poems by Billy Collins

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Awesome.



I would've been more into poetry sooner if I'd discovered Collins years ago.

One of the blurbs on the inside from book reviewers says something about his self-deprecating humor and his disdain for all things pretentious. I think that that's really the key to his genius. He doesn't take himself, or his poetry too serious and he has to be the most accessible poet since Shel Silverstein. This isn't children's poetry, and it isn't aggressively satirical though. It's comfortable and easy to relate to. Casual without having to give up being meaningful, even profound.

Now, I like Carl Sandburg and Robert Bly alright and I'm as impressed with Whitman and Emerson and Dickinson and Poe as the next reader and Nikki Giovani's rhythms and William Carlos Williams' word pictures helped me like poetry where a lot of people are afraid of it or left cold, but this guy Billy Collins- wow, this is the poet I want to be like. This is the poet that's helped me love poetry and appreciate it for what it can really be and really do.

Funny, warm, personal and unpretentious. What more could you ask for in a friend- let alone a writer?

Wonderful. Loved it.

Thanks again, Rod, for reading Collins to our Iowa Writing Project group this summer.



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The Courage to Create

The Courage to Create by Rollo May

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Good stuff. Challenging. May asserts that artists, writers, poets, etc. need to genuinely encounter, or engage with the world which they are interpreting in their art.

I'm still mulling over his chapters on the Oracle of Delphi. I THINK that what he was getting at is that artists make new discoveries and create new things with the help of myths and symbols already available to us in our cultures and in the collective unconsciousness.

May does a fantastic job of recommending that rather than analyzing dreams in a simply symbolic manor, or perhaps as traditional psychoanalysis has in the past but instead by considering the visual-spacial relationships of the principal characters in a given dream. This process means visualizing the dream like a painting, or perhaps blocking out the staging of the actors as if it were a stage play or a film. Doing this reveals new insights into the dreamer's relationships to the persons or symbols in the dream. This made sense to me as someone trained in studio and design. Needless to say, this also contributed to my understanding of the expressive possibilities in design.

Rollo May's book helps us see that creative pursuits can help us to make sense of and cope with our lives and our world. This is a great read for anyone interested in creativity (art, music, dance, drama, poetry and writing, etc.) or in psychology.

Rollo May was recommended to me by a friend who, like May, practices depth-psychology and is most interested in existential psychology. I've always tended to lean toward cognitive-therapy or reality-therapy- assuming that they're somehow different than or opposed to the behaviorism that dominates elementary and secondary education in the U.S. This book helped me recognize that really, they're pretty much just derivatives of behaviorism, which is a principally American strain of psychology. This Western convention is very concrete, material, and empirical. Not that there's anything wrong with that (as they said on an episode of Seinfeld). But May suggests that there is a third way, balancing the mythology and almost mysticism of Eastern traditions with this very logical, measurable qualities of the American way. Once again, I am reminded of the text I've been teaching from for years, "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain," in which Dr. Betty Edwards posits that we all are capable of two complimentary ways of thinking, perceiving, experiencing and knowing.

Having read this book, I'm sure that three things will be impacted. 1) My own painting, poetry, and photography. 2) My perceptions, interpretations, and reactions to the creative arts I encounter, from art to film to literature. and 3) Hopefully and I'd like to think most importantly, my teaching



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On the anniversary of the Dream Speech

(click here to view)

Pat Bagley Salt Lake TribuneAug 27, 2010 EditorialCartoonists.com

(click here to view)

Signe Wilkinson Philadelphia Daily NewsAug 27, 2010 EditorialCartoonists.com

Here are a couple of outstanding cartoons that sum up how I feel about Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin holding a tea bagger rally on the national mall on the anniversary of Dr. King's Dream speech. No, Beck and other tea party advocates like to claim that they are not racist, but their anti-immigrant, anti help for the poor rhetoric are still antithetical to MLK's writings and speeches. Beck profits by peddling fear and division, whereas King suffered and sacrificed to sew faith and unity.

It seems like too much of a coincidence that a rally criticizing the first African American President would be held on the anniversary of this speech. There may not be any overtly racist motives here, I'd like to give Beck the benefit of the doubt that it is purely coincidental, but the fact is that it's awfully convenient. The tea party movement may claim to have nothing to do with racism, but an awful lot of it's followers certainly bring out the hateful, racist, or at least insensitive and insulting signs at their rallies, don't they? He can appeal to white supremest groups without ever uttering the "N-word," just by happening to have his anti-government, anti-progressive rally on this anniversary.

Everyone had the right to assemble and to free speech. Everyone certainly has the right to their beliefs. But we all need to recognize what is at best, extremely poor taste, and at worst insidiously devious motivation. I'm tired of people making money off of (at least anxiety and suspicion, if not outright) fear and hate. There are people whom I love and admire who are infatuated with this demagogue Beck, my hope and prayer is that they'd recognize him for what he is, a snake oil salesman and practically a cult leader. He's the Father Coughlin of our time, and it's time people said so.

Book Report: Mother of all Spy Thrillers (sort of)

"I had hoped, as a broadcaster, to be merely ludicrous, but this is a hard world to be ludicrous in, with so many human beings so reluctant to laugh, so incapable of thought, so eager to believe and snarl and hate."

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I think I noted in one of my updates that although it was written in 1961 and on the surface deals with issues from WWII and the Cold War- much of what Vonnegut challenges us to consider in this book are acutely poignant today. Fear, anger, insecurity, self-importance, nationalism, racism, politics and hypocrisy, these are themes Vonnegut expertly balances and dances with like a plate-spinner on the Ed Sullivan Show.

As usual, he makes us laugh at things that could easily make us cry. I think that this novel does a better job of featuring the insanity and absurdity of politics, espionage, and war than Heller's 'Catch-22.'

'Mother Night' is about William Campbell Jr. an American living in Germany before WWII when he is recruited by the U.S. to transmit vital information to the Allies. His cover, was to become one of the leading NAZI propagandist. Unfortunately for him, only three people know his true mission- two of whom die before the end of the war (one of whom was President Roosevelt). Consequently, the Israelis want to put him on trial for his war crimes. In between he gets tangled up with some Soviet agents after a Russian looter plagiarize his entire pre-war career's worth of plays and novels.

To say this is a "mad-cap" comedy would be an understatement. I couldn't help thinking of Mel Brooks' 'The Producers' toward the end when Campbell is being sheltered by neo-NAZI nut jobs near the climax of the book.

At one point Rev. Dr. Lionel J.D. Jones D.D.S., D.D., the publisher of a right-wing extremist newspaper indignantly tells an FBI agent that instead of breaking up the meeting of his "Iron Guard" youth meeting, they should be joining his movement:

"Why bother us? Everything we do is to make the country stronger! Join with us, and let's go after the people who are trying to make it weaker!"

"Who's that?" said the G-man.

"I have to tell you? said Jones. "Haven't you even found that out in the course of your work? The Jews! The Catholics! The Negroes! The Orientals! The Unitarians! The foreign-born, who don't have any understanding of democracy, who play right into the hands of the socialists, the communists, the anarchists, the anti-Christ and the Jews!"

"For your information," said the G-man in triumph, "I am a Jew."

I thought that I could've been reading about a present-day "Tea Party" rally- the only people he didn't mention were the Gays and the Mexicans. In some ways, as funny as 'Mother Night' was, it's also as unnerving as '1984' because it's so prophetic.

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What d

I didn't write this, not sure who did- it was one of those email forwards that I usually delete. But, many of the teachers I've encountered this summer at workshops are struggling with morale already and school doesn't start until next week.

Besides the fact that 40 years ago most CEOs made 8 times what their employees did whereas today they make almost 800 times as much- for the last 10-20 years politicians and bureaucrats have been trying to impose a business philosophy onto public education. Students aren't products, test scores aren't dividends, and learning can't be standardized.

Sorry, didn't mean to get on a soap box, suffice to say that "it will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to have a bake sale to buy a bomber."

Here's the emailed story

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?" To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Bonnie . Be honest. What do you make?"

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began....)

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table):

I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them how to write and then I make them write.

Keyboarding isn't everything.

I make them read, read, read and read some more.

I make them show all their work in math.

They use their God given brain, not the man-made calculator.

I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know about English while preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

I make my students stand, placing their hand over their heart to say the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag, One Nation Under God, because we live in the United States of America .

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life.

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.) Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant.

You want to know what I make?

I MAKE A DIFFERENCE..

What do you make Mr. CEO?

His jaw dropped; he went silent. 

Here's hoping that you all have a wonderful new school year! Remember, when it gets tough, remind yourself WHY you got into teaching in the first place. To make a difference. Share this with as many teachers as you can- and as many CEOs as you want to.

Summer Reading; 50th Anniversary Special

My copy was a paperback printed in 1962. It deteriorated as I read it, so that by the time I finished, I had a pile of loose pages.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Marvelous. It's not just about race, it's about growing up, about age, gender, disability, religion, economic class, social and familial status, ignorance and intellect, fear and trust. It's about discovering how often your assumptions and prejudices are unsubstantiated. It took me a while to get into it at first, but I'm glad I read it. I really love this book. I don't understand why between high school and college, no teacher ever had me read it before. This deserves to be in the pantheon of great classics- and it's a helluva lot easier to read than Moby Dick. I recommend it to everyone. Harper Lee wrote the ultimate novel of American values; empathy, compassion, community, and responsibility. Everyone who's decided that tolerance is a dirty word needs to read or re-read this book.

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A Walk in the Woods

A dog once explored a woods
sniffing the ground
following a deer path
following a bear path
nosing under the leaves and needles on the forest floor

The dog rooted every now and then
just in case he could find a truffle underneath the ground cover
he meandered back and forth, zig zag across a hiking trail
he stopped when a noise would perk his ears
frozen, sniffing the air

Was that a squirrel?
a bird? a rabbit? a raccoon?

Then just as suddenly he'd unfreeze and return to his meandering
his seeking, his hunting, his working, his doing

Were there any other dogs about?
With whom he could form a pack?

Not in these woods, he thought
He smelled the bears
the wolves
a fox
but no other plain old,
short haired, long haired, blue, red, grey, golden, chocolate,
Irish-French-American-English-German,
pointer-spaniel-border-collie-Labrador-hound-bull-schnauzer-scott-retriever-shepherds
like him

He liked the trees
Some pines smelled like vanilla
others like strawberry
some cinnamon
being a dog, he avoided trees that smelled like chocolate

Some pine trees smelled like sugar
and some just smelled like pine.
The funny thing was
that maple trees didn't really smell much like maple syrup,
just like trees.
Oak trees did smell like oak
but only when it was very warm.

When he came upon an aspen tree
that he had known many years before
he circled the tree
and sniffed at it
and sat down in it's shade to rest

He looked up through it's branches
and the sunlight dances
because the Aspen tree's leaves were quaking in the breeze

The twisting and fluttering of the leaves
made a lovely whispering music
which accompanied the dancing of the sunlight
quite nicely

The tree asked the dog why he was always walking and hunting and rooting or herding or leading,
racing, flushing, watching, guiding and retrieving.
Why didn't he just sit and stay
here in the lovely woods?
"God made me for walking with," said the dog.
"Sometimes I like to heel
other times I like to fetch

"I like to do things for our Maker."

He told the tree that he liked the song
she whispered with her leaves
and how the sun danced with her.
"It sounds just like the Maker's voice," he said.
He told her that he liked to sing too.

"Let's hear a song then," she requested.
The dog barked
and bayed

"Oh my," said the Aspen.
"But that doesn't quite sound like a still small voice.
"Maybe you just need a little practice, perhaps you should spend some time listening to the Maker, then you'll be able to sound more like that," the tree advised.

The dog thought about this
and said that he would do just that
"Give me some time and I will work on it," he told the tree.
"Oh, that would be very nice," said the tree.
"I would very much like to hear you singing with your Master's voice," she said.

The dog went away and climbed a hill
on the edge of a meadow
covered in flowers
and sniffed and sniffed
at the flowers

He flushed out a bevy of butterflies
and they danced and pranced in the air
all around him
he jumped and snapped
and played with the butterflies

He rolled in the grass
and panted and pawed
and could imagine
the Maker giving him a good belly rub

Eventually he meandered back down a trail
and off a trail
and around
and back into
the woods
where eventually
he returned
to the lovely
quaking aspen

She had the loveliest round leaves
they looked so crisp and modern
like they had been designed
and not just grown randomly

Her bark was smoother and more pale
than the dark, rough, jagged bark
which he encountered on so many other trees

He laid down in her shade
and asked her if she'd like to hear
another song.

She answered that, yes,
she was looking forward to hearing
a softer, more heart-felt song

She said that his last song seemed
very business like,
somewhat didactic,
and at times almost urgent,
like he was trying to command the listener
or warn them
or at least trying to hard
to grab their attention.

The dog promised not to growl or howl
and he began to try to sing

It was really more of a monologue
than a song
sort of a soliloquy
about birds and squirrel
and butterflies

The dog whimpered
and whined
and yipped
and yapped

The tree wasn't sure she understood.
"I think if you really wanted to know the Maker's voice,
the best thing would be to just dig in to the ground here in the woods
and stick your feet deep into the soil
and wait for the rain
and put down roots,

that's the best way to
get in tune with nature's rhythms
and become one with
Mother Earth

The dog wanted to
he even tried
but in the end
he just couldn't sit still that long

"I really need to find a pack to run with," said the dog.
"Don't you ever feel like you need to run with the pack?"
he asked the tree.

"Oh, I have lots of Friends
not far away, here in the wood
In fact, I connect with them
and we share our song
and share the sundance."

They remained curious about one another

The tree wished she could connect with the dog's roots

The dog wished he could race the tree or run with her in a pack

"I guess your song is your own," offered the tree consolingly
"it's not the the quaking whisper of my leaves,
but I do hear that you love the Maker
and are excited and have a lot of energy," she said.

The dog sniffed the Aspen
and circled around it's base.
He wished he were a cat or a squirrel or a bear
so that he could climb the tree
and explore more about her.

If only he were a bird or a butterfly
and could sit high in her branches
and listen to her leaves up close.

He thought about digging at her roots
to examine deeper
perhaps find out about
these connections
with her Friends
and with this Mother Earth

How did she know the Maker so well?
What was it like to quake
What was it like to be so tall and yet so deep?

But he longed to get back to following trails
to flushing and watching and shepherding
to barking
and to baying
and howling
and hopefully to finding a truffle or treasure or two

"Maybe you just need to ignore me and go on your way,"

offered the tree,

as if she knew

the doq was restless

and needed to flush and track and lead and wander

 "I could just be a hindrance to you,"she said,

which made the dog melancholy,

for he was fascinated by the tree

and didn't know how long it would be

until he visited her again if he left,

but his legs and his whole body

were feeling restless-

"I have meddled where I need not. I am sorry," said the tree.

"Good bye tree," replied the dog.

He was tempted to use the tree to mark his territory

as dogs are prone to do

but he resisted.

He liked this tree too much

It was it's own, not his anyway

Besides, he knew he could find it again

the next time he was in the woods,

her beauty and her song

and the sundance

would help him find her.

There were plenty of poison oak and ivy

for marking territory

so long as he didn't get too close

or tangled. 

BARK BARK

Look out, you stupid poison ivy

Look out, you stupid squirrels.

BARK BARK

sang the dog

as he jogged down the trail

and left the woods.