ICONS

I was talking with a class the other day about what moved an individual from important or powerful or famous into the place of an icon.  We nosed around it for a while, looking at people that had iconic place in our culture.  FDR, Kennedy, Regan, Martin Luther King, Mohamed Ali, Janis Joplin, Sinatra, people that stood out.  It had nothing to do with our approval or sense of resonance with their thoughts and attitudes.  It had to do with how they siezed their moment in history, how they lived in such a way as to help define that moment.

It made me consider individuals that have done that for me.  How my history has been defined, for better or worse by individuals I have known.  Some of it has to do with them and some of it has to do with me.  It would be nice if such dominant personalities in my life had been all positive, lovely people.  But such is not the case for any of us.  Our struggles are just as formative as our blessed days.  A considerable amount of my life has been spent in defending myself from the incursions of people who weren't very nice to me.  It took me a long time to find a style of balance that kept me away from fear of losing myself. 

I said to the class that one of the best definitions of a healthy person is one who doesn't feel the need to defend or justify themselves, but is willing to accept people for who and what they are and allow them the space to be that way.   It's not easy to be graceful, partly because we do react in fear and we do spend a lot of our lives defining ourselves according to ego boundaries that are rarely more sophisticated than our two year old protestations of "No" and "Mine."  Our vocabulary is larger and we have all kinds of justifications but it's hard to grow into a secure person.  Another reason it's hard to be graceful is that sometimes it's painful.  We get punished for not seeking to win or convert or have our own way. 

Anyway, I  think if I want to put a few icons on my psychic refrigerator, it might do me good to consider what I've learned from them.  How have they facilitated my growth toward demonstrating grace and peace in my life?  How do they, in their own way teach me about living?  Abraham Lincoln does that for me.  As does Michaelangelo.  So does my wife.  There are a few others that shall not be named.  I tend to get hives when I consider them.  Boy, are they instructive.

Dogs

I heard on NPR today that dogs' genome is unlocking all kinds of insight into the causes and the very nature of cancer. Evidentally these hairy companions are not only faithful with their tongues and their wagging tails but they are faithful in carrying all kinds of possible solutions to one of the worst horrors that stalk us.

Finals

This is the time of year when I finish my classes at Monmouth University. I don't give a final exam. I grade according to projects that the students work on all semester. So the final class is always kind of bitter sweet. The students are leaving and the students are leaving. I miss them. I've gotten to know them over the semester and they've come to me with issues and bits and pieces of their lives. I help them through. It creates a bond that is important to me and is one of the main reasons I teach.

In that last class I bring junk food, lots of junk food. Popcorn, peanuts, cookies, chips, salsa, crackers, pretzels, all the stuff that they eat. The cheeze doodles leave us with orange hands, but they're popular. It's a party. We do the Kiersey Bates temperment sorter. It gives them a chance to talk about themselves and where to from here. And I give them a speech.

I tell them that school is an amazing place. It's a powerful place that offers them opportunities that they will never have again in their lives. I also apologize for teachers who don't appreciate them. I ask them to never forget that even when they think we teachers are fools, they can learn from fools, if they hang in there. And then I tell them to always remember that if they feel judged or put down by a teacher, that they should never forget that learning doesn't depend on teachers. Learning depends on a willing and an open student. Teachers in all their vaunted authority are very vulnerable. Teachers need students to be teachers. I tell them they should never forget that they carry within them a seed of star dust. In my language, they are children of God. I tell them that it has been a great privilage to be their teacher. I thank them and bless them on their way.

It seems to touch them. It doesn't seem they are used to being affirmed.

Robert Frost said that the first green is gold. They are so beautiful and unaware of it. They are young and full of the potential that rests in each and all of us. Stardust, golden....

I get to bring home what's left from the feeding frenzy. Cheeze doodles!!!!!!!

May 2009

I was always taught that places are not holy. Only God is holy. But there are places that are sacred for me. Places that are the environments of moments in my life. Places where the spirits of people who are dear to me seem close. And some places where I feel a resonance that transcends scenery and memory. Places that seem to vibrate with power beyond my understanding or control. Some are places of peace. Some are places of harmony. And some are not. 

I have visited the battlefield at Gettysburg many times, as a child and an adult. The hills and fields are full of striving and pain. Sometimes when I've walked near the light house on Long Beach Island, especially at night, I can feel the fear and sorrow of all those lost on the shoals. Call me weird. I have found a new place. It is a place of calm and peace. 

I've talked before about walking my dog, Sam, early in the morning, through the cemetery to our sanctuary. Sometimes Chris comes with me, but most of the time, Sam and I make the trip on our own. It is quiet. For part of the year it is dark, another part it is dim, and now it is dawn. Away from the road, against the trees, there is a cross, Celtic, in the ground, with a stone standing at its center. It is new. Its shape came to the designer in a dream. It grew from the commitment and work of many. It is not temporary. It feels ancient, though the plantings aren't even in the ground. 

Its purpose is to be a memorial garden. But it is already more than that. It is a place of peace for any and all who come to it, and pause there. It inspires me. It humbles me. Give it a try. It's really good around dawn.