Tag Archives: eloquent questions

The Journey

Posted on March 25, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I am not sure what my schedule is like for the rest of the afternoon, so I will post earlier than I normally do. I read quite a bit yesterday and one of the books I finished was by a friend, Deb E. Berg and is called Ja-Mya and the Journey. I taught two members of the Berg family and Deb was a founding member of our small school. Much of the underlying philosophy that led to this group of parents approaching educators with their idea of a different way of imagining a school and children’s learning is reflected in this book.

The book weaves story-telling reminiscent of classics such as The Chronicles of Narnia, Peter Pan, The Wizard of Oz, and many others. The two main characters, Teagen and Andrew, search for life’s meaning as two adolescents who embark on their summer vacation with their uncle. They search for their Heart’s Desire, explore deep and timeless questions adolescents ask, and enter a fourth dimension where time is not as we understand it. They witness two opposing worldviews: one of abundance and stewardship; the other of scarcity and depletion. They learn their greatest strengths are often their greatest weaknesses. The reader embarks on a journey with Teagen and Andrew as they learn about nature, connect to a new world through their imagination, and find wisdom. In a single afternoon, Andrew “fought a war, rode a dragon, wrote and performed a song while learning about my Heart’s desire.”

This book is about finding and integrating the contemporary with the traditional. It is about a real need to see legacy not through the eyes of adults, but through the eyes of children. What world do we choose to leave for them? What is our gift to them?

I leave you with the song Andrew wrote and performed at the end of the book:

Life begins, life ends,

Struggles come and go

What the Journey holds for each

Is something we cannot know.

Friends along the way,

Providing what we need

In companionship and wisdom

With varied type of deed.

One’s Heart’s Desire can only be found

When walking the road of life

No matter what we find it is

The awareness will bring less strife.

Emotion also finds its place

Along the Journey’s way

With welcoming and firm embrace

Wisdom will guide today.

Value, meaning, the hope of life

Shows in the time we take

To listen to a kinder voice

Love’s words to never forsake.

Life begins, life ends,

Struggles come and go

What the Journey holds for each

Is something we cannot know.

I would love to use this book in the form of a novel study or a reading project with junior high students.

22 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath, Social Justice and tagged community, creativity, Deb E. Berg, education, eloquent questions, Ja-Mya and the Journey, literature, Mindful Practice, poetry, stewardship, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

The Grasp of Your Hand

Posted on March 21, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I injured my hand years ago playing hockey and later a dog bit it badly causing even more damage. It is badly bent and scarred. We walked as a family weekend mornings when our sons boys were young. One son would check my hands and quickly change sides if he had not chosen the ‘gnarled one.’

What made him choose that one? One person suggested it was to touch the hand in a way that offered a healing touch. We each need this whether it comes from those close to us or from a divine source. We need the comfort of being cared for in ways that heal.

Rabindranath Tagore wrote this beautiful poem which described the need for the intimate touch of loved ones when we stumble which I do on life’s journey. I am not alone on this journey.

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the patience to win my freedom.
Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling
Your mercy in my success alone; but let me find
the grasp of Your hand in my failure.

25 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, Mindful Practice, poetry, Rabindranath Tagore, spirituality, teacher as transformer, The Grasp of Your Hand. Bookmark the permalink.

Preface to Leaves of Grass

Posted on March 2, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I re-blogged Distraction and Love yesterday. John posted it originally at What is Real True Love? He followed up to comment and left a long, wonderful comment with quotes. What distracts us? I only ask and answer that question when I have the space and solitude. It is in those moments that I can hold my questions and have enough compassion to receive the answers. I was led to this passage by Walt Whitman from John’s comments. I gently question my facts and truths, learned throughout my life in the quiet of meditation and prayer.

I love his beard and hair. When I grow up, I might look like him. I hope to find the wisdom Whitman spoke of so eloquently. Enjoy.

“Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote you income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take your hat off to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul your very flesh shall be a great poem.”

23 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Leaves of Grass, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Walt Whitman, What is Real True Love. Bookmark the permalink.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Posted on February 26, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is not the poem. I chose a part that speaks to me deeply. I tend to be a bit of rebel. I know it hard to believe, but I am always willing, when others are not, to shake up the things as they are. T. S. Eliot said it so well: “Do I dare/Disturb the universe?” I find comfort some days in the power of that question. What in my universe needs to be disturbed? Even as I grow older, what does wisdom call on me to do that ruffles my feathers and those around me?

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea…

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

14 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Mindful Practice, mindfulness, poetry, T. S. Eliot, teacher as transformer, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Bookmark the permalink.

Manifesto of a Mad Farmer

Posted on February 19, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Tony at A Way With Words asked if I like Wendell Berry. I do and rank him among my favourite poets. When I hear or read his name, I think of this poem.

What does it mean to be radical? The word radical comes from Old English and means going to one’s origins or roots. When I read this poem, it reminds me of the possibilities in a radical life. I can seek out my roots, the wisdom of those who came before me, and lived on the land. I love the second stanza and it just carries on from there for the rest of the poem.

Do something that does not compute, make many tracks, and sometimes confuse the world of where I go. Go against the grain.

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

21 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Synchronicity and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, Manifesto of a Mad Farmer, Mindful Practice, nature, poetry, stewardship, teacher as transformer, Wendell Berry. Bookmark the permalink.

Making Contact

Posted on February 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

What drew me to education? I believed, and still do, I make a difference in the lives of young people entrusted to me for a year or more by their parents. It is a covenant. Yesterday, someone noticed a sticker on the classroom door. Someone had written: “Mr. P. is a good Math teacher.” A student asked if I was a good Math teacher and I responded, “No, I teach students, not subjects.” Virginia Satir described the contact teachers encourage children’s lives. We must never lose this aspect of relationship with other people, particularly children. The reciprocal nature of being is critical to humanity and humanness. The whole person emerges in the safety of these relationships.

I believe

The greatest gift

I can conceive of having from anyone

to be seen by them,

heard by them,

to be understood

and touched by them.

The greatest gift

I can give

is to see, hear, understand

and to touch

another person.

When this is done

I feel

contact has been made.

27 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, education, eloquent questions, learning, poetry, teacher as transformer, virginia satir. Bookmark the permalink.

Messenger

Posted on January 29, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Today, I scooped an article entitled “Why Questions Are More Important Than Answers.” I added a short piece: “Questions keep us moving. Answers end conversations and their messages.”

Being present and mindful exposes the extraordinary on life’s canvas. I ask only to be astonished with eloquent questions which I am unable to answer, because the next question reveals itself playfully in front of me; again to go unanswered.

I love Mary Oliver‘s poetry and this poem resonated today.

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

11 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged conversational journey, eloquent questions, Mary Oliver, Messenger, Mindful Practice, spirituality, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Tomorrow’s Child

Posted on January 27, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I will change my routine week and post less often. I need to work on my dissertation topic. I want to enroll in the proposal seminar in June. If not, it will be next fall. I need to begin to set the table for the next part of life’s journey.

Today, I commented in an online forum about the state of public education. Another commentator asked, “Is there no hope for real change in the schools of America?” I am not American and cannot answer that specific question from where I sit. Instead, I answered, “I do have hope and, more importantly, I have faith that we can make the necessary changes despite the obstacles. What do we want for our children and grandchildren? This seems like the question we need to ask. Does change offer a sustainable future, not for me, but for future generations in an unimaginable, complex, and chaotic world? This need for real, flexible, and sustainable change reminded me of Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

I found this beautiful poem by Brazilian poet Rubin Alves. He spoke of hope, but not hope as a soft and gentle aspect of life, but hope matched with suffering and resiliency which gives rise change and the hoped. I particularly enjoyed: “So let us plant dates/even though we who plant them will never eat them./We must live by the love of what we will never see.”

What is hope?
It is the pre-sentiment that imagination
is more real and reality is less real than it looks.
It is the hunch that the overwhelming brutality
of facts that oppress and repress us
is not the last word.
It is the suspicion that reality is more complex
than the realists want us to believe.
That the frontiers of the possible are not
determined by the limits of the actual;
and in a miraculous and unexplained way
life is opening up creative events
which will open the way to freedom and resurrection –
but the two – suffering and hope
must live from each other.
Suffering without hope produces resentment and despair.
But, hope without suffering creates illusions, naïveté
and drunkenness.
So let us plant dates
even though we who plant them will never eat them.
We must live by the love of what we will never see.
That is the secret discipline.
It is the refusal to let our creative act
be dissolved away by our need for immediate sense experience
and is a struggled commitment to the future of our grandchildren.
Such disciplined hope is what has given prophets, revolutionaries and saints,
the courage to die for the future they envisage.
They make their own bodies the seed of their highest hopes.

54 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Progressive Education, Reflective Moments, Sabbath, Uncategorized and tagged education, eloquent questions, hopeful work, Margaret Mead, Mindful Practice, poetry, Rubin Alves, school, teacher as transformer, Tomorrow's Child. Bookmark the permalink.

Where I’m Headed

Posted on January 20, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

It was an excellent first part to the retreat. We have a short session on Sunday, but already I feel replenished. I take prodigious notes at these events and do very little talking. I figure I talk enough in the classroom that this is a time to step back. I always have multiple notebooks on the go and the one I grabbed was quite well used. I glanced through it and found this from several months ago. It hibernated and is out for an early spring, I guess.

Where I’m headed

No planned routes

Markers do not set out a path

My GPS is non-digital.

This is adventure

Being lost has panache

A flair

It exhilarates.

I discover wonder

The I don’t knows fill life

They summon me

They make me whole.

4 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Where I'm Headed. Bookmark the permalink.

Dreams

Posted on January 10, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

It was a long day. I feel tired and I was not as close to 100% as I thought. Despite that, I had an interesting conversation and, on the way home, I wondered if many children’s dreams have exploded? Do children dream like I did when I was a child? Do some children while others are afraid or unable to dream? I turned those questions over and they reminded me of Langston Hughes’ wonderful poetry. What is my role in holding their dreams with them?

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.