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Hi Walt, et. al.,
The days go by in a Shakespearean petty pace, twenty-one and
counting. The only thing left, except showing up, is to let the
principal know who I think will make it at the next level.
This year has really been cushy, the perfect year to end. I’m down to
ten kids. Granted, they are…unique, and I have had to assume the
drill Sgt. Role often. “Parent” them would be another way to say it.
They came to me because they stood out in their uniqueness and
couldn’t make the grade. The home lives they lead would shock you.
They came into the room not even knowing the alphabet, and now all
but two are reading at a pretty decent level, and some have passed
kids in the other classes, this according to the principal. He has had
my students and those from the regular first grade classes read to
him, and he told me this.
So I can leave with some sense of success. I can even locate a little
sentimental melancholy in the moving on. It has been an eighteen-
year trip that has changed my life in ways I couldn’t have guessed
when I entered that sixth grade classroom the first day. It is probably
pretty corny to say I have been the student even more than the
teacher, but it’s true. This job has put me between the hammer and
the anvil and pounded my ego, tempered my emotions, and shaped
my soul. I’m glad I can locate my heart as I slip out the back door.
And now what will come? Throughout my life, one nemesis has
followed another. Always it’s something, so why should it be any
different? Well, for one thing there will be no timecard, that’s why!!
And there is the nostalgia of knowing how short is the time. The
mountains laugh. A blink, that’s it. I pray/hope, imagine; holding the
poet’s soul, on a hillside, plumbing beneath the landscape of eons, for
timeless words that fall like colored leaves into the mulch of
generations, the host for a seed crop in destiny’s fields.
Frivolous activity? What is poetry’s bottom line anyway? How does it
profit a world of tortured souls, the lost of the Great One-Clan of the
Rainbow who writhe like stranded worms on the sidewalk of a
deafened, progress shrouded world?
How silly to apply productivity accounting to all things anyway. That
is the realm of Anubis, who will weigh our souls on the scales of
Ma’at, against the lightness of a feather, to see if we warrant entry to
heaven (as sweet by any other name). Soon enough.
Jim
In Reply to: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 09, 2006 at 06:51:30:
"This job has put me between the hammer and
the anvil and pounded my ego, tempered my emotions, and shaped
my soul. I’m glad I can locate my heart as I slip out the back door. "
"And there is the nostalgia of knowing how short is the time. The
mountains laugh. A blink, that’s it. "
" That
is the realm of Anubis, who will weigh our souls on the scales of
Ma’at, against the lightness of a feather, to see if we warrant entry to
heaven (as sweet by any other name). Soon enough. "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beautiful!!!!!
In Reply to: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 09, 2006 at 06:51:30:
"What is poetry’s bottom line anyway?"
It's a window, a musical note, a particular way of 'experiencing'. It gives meaning to life, it helps people express their feelings, and it lets people try and make some sense of a world that may be nothing more than "stranded worms on the sidewalk". Even if that's all we are, while we're here, we need some sense of meaning and expression, no?
In Reply to: Re: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by To the master scribe [2065.890] on May 09, 2006 at 13:41:15:
Thank you, Sapphire!
Well said, 2065. I agree, poetry is good for us.
And I don't think we're worms, no, but so many are spiritually bereft,
in agony not unlike those worms on the sidewalk. Poetry is but one
of many sources of nourishment for arid souls.
In Reply to: Re: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 10, 2006 at 09:30:34:
Thanks Jim, any compliment from you is a compliment indeed.
Sometimes I distance myself enough to experience life as nothing more than an ant...millions of ants scurrying around -- every minute some dying and some being born. What is the difference? Well, we humans can think logically, creatively, and leave a legacy, but in the end we die just like ants and worms.
I think poetry and other forms of creativity and expression help anchor us and provide some pleasure, but I'm not sure I've figured out the real meaning of life, or if I ever will. Call me partially bereft!
Your posts however, are always nourishment for my soul, so thank you.
In Reply to: Re: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by 2065 [2065.890] on May 10, 2006 at 14:00:09:
Ants and worms huh? That is about right, 2065, but not in a maudlin
sense. We all have had the experience of feeling like ants and worms
in this life. It is not just hyperbole. How many of us live the life we
think we were meant to live?
Most of us are not so brave as Walt, who has chosen the path of his
convictions…at great sacrifice. One can see in his example the cost of
bucking the system.
The rest of us struggle along, doing what we must, and trying to
squeeze it into a perspective that gives us self-respect, and we wait
for the time we can withdraw from the field (retire) (or win the Lotto),
so we are free to live in a way more naturally us…whether it is
writing for the Great One-Clan of the Rainbow (mankind) or catching
the biggest bass possible. For me, the time is now, time to attend to
the weight of my heart.
In Reply to: paths posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 11, 2006 at 08:05:50:
Sometimes maudlin, sometimes not but identifying with the animal kingdom puts things in the larger perspective for me. I think it's probably a healthy balance to alternate between living in the moment and pondering the big picture.
Yes, Walt has blazed new trails and it is so admirable. His sacrifice is our gain, but he has benefited too. He's been able to prolong his own life by virture of his knowledge and educate millions as well...
As for you I think your creative, observant, thoughtful, and sensitive nature has always been present in your life, right? In that regard you didn't really leave yourself, you were always you in the deepest sense of the word.
And in the end as you have just stated, best to write those prose, catch that bass for dinner, and give Sharon a kiss under the moonlight, Carpe Diem.
In Reply to: Re: paths posted by 2065 [2065.890] on May 11, 2006 at 13:27:25:
2065 writes: “I think it's probably a healthy balance to alternate
between living in the moment and pondering the big picture.”
I think so too, and since you bring up the health of it, we’re not OT
anymore. :) Mentally alternating contexts, like you mention, forming
metaphors, and seeing relationships are paths to Spirit, only a few of
many. The lament I expressed is that we seem to be stuck in our life
path. We know that is probably not true, but we don’t know what to
do about it. I think our health is at stake in this conflict.
It is an old theme, the suffering masses, and you can get lost in the
misery of it. What about the great courage and hope that comes
shining through in some people’s lives, with only faith to go on? I am
totally inspired by those whose spirit rises above the muck of this
incomprehensible reality, who step right past the doubting thoughts
to live out the best qualities of Spirit, and thereby raise the rest of us.
Sedona comes to mind.
2065 writes: “As for you I think your creative, observant, thoughtful,
and sensitive nature has always been present in your life, right? In
that regard you didn't really leave yourself, you were always you in
the deepest sense of the word.”
Yes, I was always me, sigh, and you can never go back. It’s just that,
at this stage of my life, I’m so aware of the ways I didn’t live out my
nature as I see it now. I see the reflection of that in others all around
me. The values that drive the world of mankind these days are not
helpful for health or spiritual being. An old story, I’m just exorcising
my demons.
2065 writes: “And in the end as you have just stated, best to write
those prose, catch that bass for dinner, and give Sharon a kiss under
the moonlight, Carpe Diem.”
Yep, this is bye-bye. Thank you for the blessing of that thought.
Since I am bereft of stories of the soul at present (and I hope for a
renewal of that spirit after retirement), I will paste in this one from
the archives:
* * * * *
Once we had a little yorkie/poodle named Duffy. She was a prancing,
manic, wire-haired, big love-eyed, crazy mixed up, small for a dog,
large for a rat, neurotic bundle of energy. She slept under the covers
at our feet and growled and nipped our toes if we moved too much to
suit her.
Otherwise she was typical of most dogs I’ve known. She would run to
the door screeching when someone knocked, and she would run
circles and bounce around if anyone mentioned “eat,” or “go bye-
bye.” It was like, pant-pant, wag-wag, OK, eat, bye-bye, yeah-yeah,
bacon-bacon, oh boy.
One day we took her with us in the car. A few blocks down the road
Sharon and I were talking. One of us used the word “bye-bye,” and
Duffy picked it out of all the rest of the indecipherable banter. Her
body expressed her reaction. Bounce-bounce, wag-wag, oh can we
really? Pant-pant, oh boy, oh boy.
“Duffy,” I reasoned with her, “this IS bye-bye! This is it!”
We began to laugh, and the more we laughed, the more Duffy got
excited, and the harder we laughed. Several times that trip, and I’m a
little ashamed to admit it, but several times I asked her again if she
wanted to go bye-bye, just to watch her get all worked up. Then I
would patiently explain to her that we were already bye-bye, but she
just looked at me with bright eyes and head cocked, and she would
only hear the “bye-bye” part and react. Sharon and I laughed till our
faces hurt. Duffy was the source of much laughter over the years, and
we have a softness of the heart when we think of her.
Just the other day, Sharon peaked through the door to my classroom.
It is one of our great joys that we’ve been able to teach next door to
each other for the last three years. Not only do we get to share
triumphs and defeats immediately, but we can cover each other’s
class any time, which means we get bathroom breaks any time we
need them, a rare bonus in the teaching profession.
I noticed her smiling through the doorway. My mind was on getting
home and doing other things. I pointed to the clock on the wall and
held up one finger, only one more hour. Sharon smiled mischievously,
slowly motioned “no” with her head, and mouthed the words, “No,
THIS is bye-bye.” Then she put her index finger to her lips, blew me a
kiss, and disappeared back into her room.
Duffy, that simple minded little dog taught us a great lesson with her
playful enthusiasm, a lesson often summarized in familiar sayings
about where green grass really grows, and being in the now, and
stopping to sniff the roses in our own back yard. In the unrestrained
joy of her own true nature, she showed us how silly we are
sometimes. In this way she still lives in us.
In Reply to: The incredible lightness of a feather posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 09, 2006 at 06:51:30:
Where does Jim & company go from here?
To the old teachers home..
When you hear a bell, do you jump out of your chair like an old race horse?
When the Silver Fox! misspells a word on the board, how will you be able to resist correcting him?
Silver Fox!
In Reply to: Remember, this is bye-bye. posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 12, 2006 at 07:47:03:
Sorry Master Scribe but I couldn't resist some parting thoughts...
"The lament I expressed is that we seem to be stuck in our life path. We know that is probably not true, but we don’t know what to do about it. I think our health is at stake in this conflict."
I agree, it's our karmic duty to find a way to break the ties that bind us.
"I am totally inspired by those whose spirit rises above the muck of this incomprehensible reality, who step right past the doubting thoughts to live out the best qualities of Spirit, and thereby raise the rest of us."
I agree, it's a miracle indeed how some people are able to extract themselves from the dirt, almost as if they're living in a parallel universe or a world of their own. Sometimes it seems that in order to succeed with one's mission, they have to put blinders on to all the monkey chatter and mud slinging that goes on around us. One of the best ways for me to find inspiration besides indulging in my own passions is to read about and listen to those people that have found and kept their way, especially despite great odds.
"Yes, I was always me, sigh, and you can never go back. It’s just that, at this stage of my life, I’m so aware of the ways I didn’t live out my nature as I see it now."
I hear you and I experience the same sorrow and lament for all the abilities untapped and unutilized, and for all the opportunities not taken.
To honor oneself and life, to make up for opportunities lost, I think the best thing to do is
to do what we can NOW, and for the remainder of our lives. Grandma Moses was in her 80's when she got rolling wasn't she?
With your retirement, the time and mood constraints that come with working and supporting a family are gone. You've gathered a lot of rich material from all those years of being observant and teaching and just living life. I say, write that book now, write all those books now! You're not dead yet and it could bring you great joy.
Also, not my business at all but it occured to me that since you and Walt have such a nice bond, maybe it would be a pleasant experience for you and Sharon to take a nice drive through the South; stopping here and there to soak it all in, and ending up in Panama City for a refreshing dip with your friend Walt.
Little Duffy had it right, enthusiasm, enthusiasm, enthusiasm, makes life worth living.
In Reply to: Remember, this is bye-bye. posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 12, 2006 at 07:47:03:
You scared me there for a minute, Jim. Thought you were saying goodbye. But you are not leaving I've decided. And besides that, we won't let you leave. And if you attempt to leave, we will hunt you down til we find you and when we find you......well, YOU know what I'm saying.
In Reply to: Re: So what's next?? posted by Steve [3019.1399] on May 12, 2006 at 13:10:10:
I am a lousy speller too, Steve. I would not presume to correct you on
the board...though I hope to continue to make you squirm with my
words.
Bells? That would be pleasant. What we have at school is buzzers,
worse than alarm clocks, and yes they make me jump!
What will I do? I will get working on some projects I've been
threatening to do for a few years now (besides doing a lot of
nothing). I will self-publish 2 books on Lulu.com and make copies
for family and friends. I will make a website. If I ever get my groove
back for story writing, I will do more of that.
We have also formed an investment corporation that Sharon will
manage. How much she can get me involved in that remains to be
seen. I hope to raise procrastination to an art form...muse on the
daisies and so forth (from this side of the grass).
Jim
In Reply to: Re: Remember, this is bye-bye. posted by Sally [1945.1192] on May 12, 2006 at 15:08:49:
Yes, I know what you are saying, Sally. Thank you.
In Reply to: some thoughts posted by 2065 [2065.890] on May 12, 2006 at 13:13:11:
Thanks for the thoughts, 2065.
I have great admiration and affection for Walt. If I ever find myself in
Panama City or Chicago, I will probably be knocking on some doors.
In Reply to: Re: So what's next?? posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on May 13, 2006 at 06:19:38:
There was a reason behind my question. On Wednesday I turn 64, giving me one year to make up my mind what I will do when I turn 65. I always thought retirement was for old people and I don't feel old.
I guess my mind is made up, I will continue to work. I like it, I'm still good at it and I know I can't sit at home.
Can the old dog still hunt? We will find out. Enjoy your retirement.
Silver Fox!
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