Monthly Archives: January 2013

Replenish

Posted on January 19, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I head to a retreat tonight and I hope that it replenishes my creative spirit. These are the lyrics to a song by Claudia Schmidt. The poem has a nature theme, but the idea of replenishing one’s self is strong, natural, and metaphoric in this case.

We go on, we go on,

Canoe under the hot sun,

The upturned paddles guide liquid to our

dry mouths.

Water within us, water surrounds us,

A great mystery our becoming dry at all.

Replenish, replenish, all must be replenished.

The water within and without.

All that fills, all that surrounds us:

The great whistling pines,

The tenacious beaver,

The ancient loon,

The rush of the young eagle’s wings as it

dips low over our canoe.

Replenish!

The eyes bathed in this delicate solitude,

The trembling eternity,

Called back in mid-sweep only to be

assessed by green parched eyes

Replenish!

Each shriveled heart

Which has its moments only at events set

aside for its song,

But cannot fly for the connection

Between the rock and the human body,

The heron’s wing and the hope in our souls,

We go on,

We go on.

Our paddles dance with the lake water to

the music in our throats.

We will grow dry again

Perhaps leap into the water

A small and symbolic celebration of a great

and endless task

Which gracefully undertaken,

Might allow us to go on, and on, and on.

15 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Claudia Schmidt, creativity, Mindful Practice, nature, poetry, Replenish, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Posted on January 18, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I have only come across Nina Simone’s music in the last couple of years, but she is an amazing singer. Take a listen.

7 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Poem Against the First Grade

Posted on January 18, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

When I read this poem, I do so with care. George Venn wrote it in the voice of a six-year-old, but I can easily imagine anyone so excited about learning that they trip over their words and speak so fast words just run together. The poem reminded me of the way small children or a learner of any age, stops in mid-sentence and makes pronouncements in ways that do not always fit the conversation, but seem so right.

What a marvel when I do not worry about the need to be expert or proficient. I can just be in that moment a small child excited by the newness of my life.

Alex, my son, with backberry jam
smeared ear to ear and laughing,
rides his unbroken joy with words
so fast we let him get away
on the jamjar without clean cheeks first.

He spills frasasass
tea with milk and honey;
a red-chafted schlicker
beats our cottonwood drum.
Thumping the pano keys
like a mudpie chef,
he goes wild with words
at the wittle wooden
arms inside, a hundred
Pinoschios to singsong.
If he can’t wide byebye
bike to the candy store,
where he is Master Rich
with one penny, words turn
to tears in his mouf. Once
in a while, he walks home
with pum-pum-pumpernickel bread
his nose twitching so fast
a wabbit would love him.

Now this language is not taught in first grade.
Alicia, his tister, knows this fact.
But he juggles it around all day
until she makes him spit it out like
a catseye marble or a tack. “Ax,” she says,
“that’s not right.” She’s been among giants
who wipe off the dialect of backberry jam,
then pour hot wax on each bright mistake.

I hope for a bad seal on Ax and tister,
encourage the mold of joyous error
that proper sad giants, armed to the ears
with pencils and rules, all forgot.

12 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, George Venn, learning, Mindful Practice, Poem Against the First Grade, poetry, school, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Posted on January 17, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is beautiful reminder of the extraordinary nature of the ordinary life we live. Am I paying attention and am I fully aware of the love happening in my world?

11 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Birdfoot’s Grandpa

Posted on January 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

A student read this poem today as part of their Language Arts and we discussed the underlying meaning of the poem. It reminded me of a story I heard several years ago. I am unsure whether the story is true, but the underlying idea is one teachers should consider.

A long-time teacher went and sat in a small park next to her school each day during lunch. One day a colleague asked why she spent every lunch break in the park quietly by herself. Her response was “I ask myself whether I want to go back and continue to do what I do. So far, the answer has always been yes.”

Joseph Bruchac’s wonderful poem reminded me of this story. Similar to the toads, each student we come in contact with has places to go to too. It is what should motivate us each day to return to the classrooms we teach in.

The old man
must have stopped our car
two dozen times to climb out
and gather into his hands
the small toads blinded
by our light and leaping,
live drops of rain.

The rain was falling,
a mist about his white hair
and I kept saying
you can’t save them all,
accept it, get back in
we’ve got places to go.

But, leathery hands full
of wet brown life,
knee deep in the summer
roadside grass,
he just smiled and said
they have places to go, too.

13 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Birdfoot's Grandpa, education, Joseph Bruchac, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Posted on January 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

To live in the moment and be mindful and present is the greatest gift we can offer each other and our self.

To live in the moment and be mindful and present is the greatest gift we can offer each other and our self.

View original post

3 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

When Someone Deeply Listens to You

Posted on January 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

John Fox wrote this beautiful poem. He is part of an organization called The Institute for Poetic Medicine. When people feel deeply listened to they feel cared for, cradled lovingly, and able to speak their truth. When we listen to each other this it is magical and peaceful. I know I feel wanted.

When someone deeply listens to you
it is like holding out a dented cup
you’ve had since childhood
and watching it fill up with
cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
you are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin,
you are loved.

When someone deeply listens to you
the room where you stay
starts a new life
and the place where you wrote
your first poem
begins to glow in your mind’s eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!

When someone deeply listens to you
your barefeet are on the earth
and a beloved land that seemed distant
is now at home within you.

41 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, John Fox, leadership, love, Mindful Practice, Poetic Medicine, relationships, spirituality, teacher as transformer, When Someone Deeply Listens To You. Bookmark the permalink.

Posted on January 15, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Just wait. What a beautiful, simple, and complex message.

Poet's Corner

***

simple is the time

of crow, robin, tree and sprite

simple is the life

–

that’s waiting

***

View original post

10 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Children Will Listen

Posted on January 15, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I tell people when I facilitate workshops we do not teach human qualities, we model them. Good sportsmanship, integrity, and kindness, to name a few of those qualities, are prime examples. We seem to live in a world of “do as I say, not as I do”. Children are observant and intelligent and see through this so easily. They know when things do not add up and are inconsistent. In a world that changes so rapidly, adults need to be vigilant, authentic, and careful about the modeling they do.

Stephen Sondheim wrote this song for the musical, Into the Woods. I enjoy songs with deep meaning in the lyrics and this one is a prime example

How do you say to your child in the night?
Nothing’s all black, but then nothing’s all white
How do you say it will all be all right
When you know that it might not be true?
What do you do?

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say “Listen to me”
Children will listen

Careful the wish you make
Wishes are children
Careful the path they take
Wishes come true, not free
Careful the spell you cast
Not just on children
Sometimes the spell may last
Past what you can see
And turn against you
Careful the tale you tell
That is the spell
Children will listen

How can you say to a child who’s in flight
“Don’t slip away and i won’t hold so tight”
What can you say that no matter how slight Won’t be misunderstood
What do you leave to your child when you’re dead?
Only whatever you put in it’s head
Things that you’re mother and father had said
Which were left to them too
Careful what you say
Children will listen
Careful you do it too
Children will see
And learn, oh guide them that step away
Children will glisten
Tamper with what is true
And children will turn
If just to be free
Careful before you say
“Listen to me”

29 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Children Will Listen, education, Educational Leadership, Into the Woods, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, school, Stephen Sondheim, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Posted on January 14, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is a re-blog of a re-blog. The quote reminded me of the importance to live each moment fully. Be mindful in life and it will be full of extraordinary opportunities.