Would he succeed in saving a few scraps of this inner world and making it visible to others? Or would things just go on the same way: new towns, new landscapes, new women, new experiences, new images, piled one on the other, experiences from which he gleaned nothing but a restless, torturous as well as beautiful overflowing of the heart?
Hermann Hese, Narcissus and Goldmund
August 25, 2007
To jell-o, or not
August 24, 2007
Parting's last words
Be not sad, my brother.
You have you.
And you are a precious gift
to yourself and others.
You have charm and grace
and know the opposites.
You are gifted and creative.
Create then give.
Dark moments pass soon--
They're never forever.
Light moments can last--
if we see and receive them.
Our time here is brief.
Let the goodness that is
in people and places
bring joy to your heart.
Rid your self of demons.
They are but images
our minds can dismiss.
Trash 'em.
Enjoy the days.
There are but few left
for each of us.
We don't know and can't.
To reach for answers,
or to know for certain,
escapes even science.
Let mysteries be.
We can age in oneness,
with the flow of things,
gracefully, happily,
in humor and wonder.
It's not over yet.
Fat ladies may sing
but what do they know?
It's your song, not theirs.
Focus on now.
It is all we have.
Gather your blessings,
and we have many.
Health is our duty
above all else.
Doctors don't have it.
It is already ours.
The respect you seek
is inside of you.
Ask your self for it--
others will follow suit.
Be good to yourself.
We already know
others put themselves first.
It's your time to reap.
We will meet again--
in fact no one's gone.
Hell has been ours.
Heaven's the next dawn.
And when you have hold
of you solid, accepted,
then you will have
adoration and love deserved.
And that may come
from an unexpected corner,
so surprising and right.
You'll delight when she finds you.
You are meant for this.
All preparation's done--
to love self and other,
and bask in love's sun.
Rejoice and sing, my brother.
You have you.
And you are a precious gift
To yourself and me.
You have you.
And you are a precious gift
to yourself and others.
You have charm and grace
and know the opposites.
You are gifted and creative.
Create then give.
Dark moments pass soon--
They're never forever.
Light moments can last--
if we see and receive them.
Our time here is brief.
Let the goodness that is
in people and places
bring joy to your heart.
Rid your self of demons.
They are but images
our minds can dismiss.
Trash 'em.
Enjoy the days.
There are but few left
for each of us.
We don't know and can't.
To reach for answers,
or to know for certain,
escapes even science.
Let mysteries be.
We can age in oneness,
with the flow of things,
gracefully, happily,
in humor and wonder.
It's not over yet.
Fat ladies may sing
but what do they know?
It's your song, not theirs.
Focus on now.
It is all we have.
Gather your blessings,
and we have many.
Health is our duty
above all else.
Doctors don't have it.
It is already ours.
The respect you seek
is inside of you.
Ask your self for it--
others will follow suit.
Be good to yourself.
We already know
others put themselves first.
It's your time to reap.
We will meet again--
in fact no one's gone.
Hell has been ours.
Heaven's the next dawn.
And when you have hold
of you solid, accepted,
then you will have
adoration and love deserved.
And that may come
from an unexpected corner,
so surprising and right.
You'll delight when she finds you.
You are meant for this.
All preparation's done--
to love self and other,
and bask in love's sun.
Rejoice and sing, my brother.
You have you.
And you are a precious gift
To yourself and me.
August 20, 2007
Critical poetry
Critical poetry . . .
in the glass
shined on me
[Read this fast.]
sure 's no other
too much thought
will it smother
No one caught
the middle way
best advice
conserve the fray
less suffice
the essence read
hoist the mast
as has been said
more, no less,
to make it last
And we're lost
said the words
in the dost
till up in curds
Poetry is
and no more
though if I shout
this I swore.
in the glass
shined on me
[Read this fast.]
sure 's no other
too much thought
will it smother
No one caught
the middle way
best advice
conserve the fray
less suffice
the essence read
hoist the mast
as has been said
more, no less,
to make it last
And we're lost
said the words
in the dost
till up in curds
Poetry is
and no more
though if I shout
this I swore.
August 8, 2007
Village bench
Unanticipated leisure just so
Forces me to wander
Up and down the village slow
Till that silent restless
Comes to rest on a bench.
The clatter of the kitchen
Reminds me I am relieved
Of daily chores surrendered
to the agenda of what may come,
or not, this better way.
Forces me to wander
Up and down the village slow
Till that silent restless
Comes to rest on a bench.
The clatter of the kitchen
Reminds me I am relieved
Of daily chores surrendered
to the agenda of what may come,
or not, this better way.
Consciousness rising
Intro
The life long nude
beckoned ageless males
till she thought it rude.
Their interest only--
prospective sales.
Body
She wearied of her object maid,
she was not her self in their eyes.
So love not lust the bed she laid.
She wanted more to realize.
In short.
She sang that song,
lit countless rockets,
beckons lifeless long,
till they--some--got it.
The life long nude
beckoned ageless males
till she thought it rude.
Their interest only--
prospective sales.
Body
She wearied of her object maid,
she was not her self in their eyes.
So love not lust the bed she laid.
She wanted more to realize.
In short.
She sang that song,
lit countless rockets,
beckons lifeless long,
till they--some--got it.
Constancy amid motes
perpetrating the patterns
ensures the delicate freedoms
we enjoy, and don't,
and relations that can't change
because we would not have them so
ensures the delicate freedoms
we enjoy, and don't,
and relations that can't change
because we would not have them so
Wonder this wonder
Wonder this wonder.
Call it this,
call it that.
And it still escapes
in a whisper,
in a breath,
in a kiss held just so long
and no longer.
I wonder this wonder would be,
if I could just
hold it still,
make it last,
capture it
just before
it vanishes
as the image of that butterfly there,
that was just here.
Love is none of this
and all of it.
We are incapable of holding still,
only of still,
holding on to was,
is,
and may-be.
Our only comfort in this.
So, my wonder,
hold me close and tight.
Don't let me go--
as I won't you--
now and forever
in the escaping moments
with you only
to be
without this happy-sad wonder,
my treasure,
my heart.
November 05
August 4, 2007
Thought experiment
re gur git
am end eh
a man duh
this ill
o sire is
she graced us
with her way
till the end
of is
and she somewhere in Egypt
they say
still bejeweled that men
like me dumbfounded, eh?
August 3, 2007
Xmas 98
The time has come,
My heart tells me so,
To locate West.
And there I'll go.
No light matter,
This fall's decision.
Uproot again;
Repair division.
Europe was it
For almost 25.
A place to be,
But now it's thrive.
And thrive I will,
'Cause will will help,
In times of good
And those others . . .
Dreams I've had.
More I would.
Change of place?
More I could.
I'll see spring,
Mountains 'gain.
Hope's eternal.
Each day again.
Is it possible?
Is it right?
Those I love,
Those from sight,
Will know that I--
This quasi-flight--
Will treasure them?
All we did,
And all we might . . .
No matter now.
It is time to go.
To locate West.
There I'll know.
My heart tells me so,
To locate West.
And there I'll go.
No light matter,
This fall's decision.
Uproot again;
Repair division.
Europe was it
For almost 25.
A place to be,
But now it's thrive.
And thrive I will,
'Cause will will help,
In times of good
And those others . . .
Dreams I've had.
More I would.
Change of place?
More I could.
I'll see spring,
Mountains 'gain.
Hope's eternal.
Each day again.
Is it possible?
Is it right?
Those I love,
Those from sight,
Will know that I--
This quasi-flight--
Will treasure them?
All we did,
And all we might . . .
No matter now.
It is time to go.
To locate West.
There I'll know.
Xmas 00
I accompanied my mother the last time she went to the dining room. She seemed relieved to be able to ride the elevator and go down for dinner. "You know, I was afraid my body was falling apart." Young inside, fiercely independent. That was the last time she had dinner with her contemporaries in her hometown in Marin, January 1995. She died that spring as I boarded a train to Graz.
My father died at about my age, on the highway from Napa to Vallejo. In his pocket, he had financial security. He had worked hard for this, hardly a measure of his greatness. He and my mother were thinking about a country home in the Alexander Valley. Never got there, never retired. I returned from Germany in 1975 to say good bye.
My parents supported me in Boulder, years which I forever treasure. There, personal and intellectual things changed me profoundly--I found love, children, idealism, poetry. I grew up much too fast then, but the lessons and themes woven into my life are inextricably still me. Though I have set aside these from time to time--having to work and survive the excuse--they pop out of secret places, as they must. And thus again, as I think of you
Through these threads, I find hope and tender remembrance of those dearest and our happy times.
In 1999, I returned again to the US, this time on the suspicion that I needed to be close to loved ones. Believing lease-end's near, I left my personal dream for others and health, and for me. Christmas that year was simple and modest; 2000 brought work and the repairs necessary for heart and pocketbook. I have been able to visit loved ones. It has been sweet, and refreshing.
I have traveled almost a full circle now, just a few miles from Marin. I feel young inside, independent. And I am looking forward to retreat from the world to treasure first loves. Back, closer to the dream. (Better for me to appreciate America from a distance.)
I live in Healdsburg now. I am able to smell the smells of the California countryside, the hills and valleys in fog--the Pacific and San Francisco not far away-- deep and plentiful cool air in the rain. I am a mile from the entrance to the Alexander Valley. With my spirit rich in life's lessons and recurrent themes, I have the security and strength I need. And I thank my parents and life for the gifts come closer and together. They strangely give a sense of meaning and purpose in a circular logic I cannot escape, and don't want to.
I am sorry I cannot be with you this holiday season, or take you with me where the journey may lead next. But you are forever close in my heart. May these moments bring us closer and remember the good and happiness and beauty that keep us ever young and living strong against what would discourage lesser spirits.
My father died at about my age, on the highway from Napa to Vallejo. In his pocket, he had financial security. He had worked hard for this, hardly a measure of his greatness. He and my mother were thinking about a country home in the Alexander Valley. Never got there, never retired. I returned from Germany in 1975 to say good bye.
My parents supported me in Boulder, years which I forever treasure. There, personal and intellectual things changed me profoundly--I found love, children, idealism, poetry. I grew up much too fast then, but the lessons and themes woven into my life are inextricably still me. Though I have set aside these from time to time--having to work and survive the excuse--they pop out of secret places, as they must. And thus again, as I think of you
Through these threads, I find hope and tender remembrance of those dearest and our happy times.
In 1999, I returned again to the US, this time on the suspicion that I needed to be close to loved ones. Believing lease-end's near, I left my personal dream for others and health, and for me. Christmas that year was simple and modest; 2000 brought work and the repairs necessary for heart and pocketbook. I have been able to visit loved ones. It has been sweet, and refreshing.
I have traveled almost a full circle now, just a few miles from Marin. I feel young inside, independent. And I am looking forward to retreat from the world to treasure first loves. Back, closer to the dream. (Better for me to appreciate America from a distance.)
I live in Healdsburg now. I am able to smell the smells of the California countryside, the hills and valleys in fog--the Pacific and San Francisco not far away-- deep and plentiful cool air in the rain. I am a mile from the entrance to the Alexander Valley. With my spirit rich in life's lessons and recurrent themes, I have the security and strength I need. And I thank my parents and life for the gifts come closer and together. They strangely give a sense of meaning and purpose in a circular logic I cannot escape, and don't want to.
I am sorry I cannot be with you this holiday season, or take you with me where the journey may lead next. But you are forever close in my heart. May these moments bring us closer and remember the good and happiness and beauty that keep us ever young and living strong against what would discourage lesser spirits.
Xmas 99
Of the big three--truth, beauty, and the good--beauty has uplifted me the most. Beauty first, but always along with truth--knowledge--and the good--right action. This the unique soup that has nourished me. When I saw beauty attended by partly hidden truth and the promise of everything right, this has sufficed, even in the face of my most important questions: Is there a G/god? and is there an other side?
I lead myself away from beauty by the daily matters of practical reality. These have taken an inordinately prominent position in my life. Unless we are vigilant, persistent, devoted. Beauty has been too elusive to this preoccupied soul. Artists are so lucky.
Beauty continues for me as physical and spiritual. Would that it were different. On certain days I am a monk, compassionate and active in the experience of souls meeting. On others I am a sensualist immersed in the people, places, and particulars of this phenomenal existence. Experience. Existence. These the travels of my divided ways as I have wandered about the map of human faith and hope and dreams.
I have come to accept my errors of the flesh and my foolish ideals. They are both me--to see and appreciate, for example, a woman inside and out. I am both; I can only surrender to what is, not how a part of me or someone else would have just so.
I am a romantic. As a child and young adult, medieval stories and courtly love bred me. In my renaissance, language and humanist ways ushered in an adulthood I have hardly coped with well, nor was I prepared for. Then I lost all for many years; neither beauty, nor truth, certainly not goodness saved my soul. Then life arrested me, and I am in a rebirth, now ten years in labor.
I harken back to where I have been, the wastelands and the promise. Oh, other important things happened along the way, but they make for too long a tale of seeming rationalizations.
The important thing is today. My love for you would be to share some of the beauty I have--from the romance, the renaissance, the romantic. Here are my current favorites that reflect this life. The real truth, most beautiful, and the best. Haunting lyrics and lines and words, melodies to suffice in the face of mortal matters, our questions, and the life we live to the fullest that we might realize our own truth, beauty, and goodness before the next adventure and quest begin.
I lead myself away from beauty by the daily matters of practical reality. These have taken an inordinately prominent position in my life. Unless we are vigilant, persistent, devoted. Beauty has been too elusive to this preoccupied soul. Artists are so lucky.
Beauty continues for me as physical and spiritual. Would that it were different. On certain days I am a monk, compassionate and active in the experience of souls meeting. On others I am a sensualist immersed in the people, places, and particulars of this phenomenal existence. Experience. Existence. These the travels of my divided ways as I have wandered about the map of human faith and hope and dreams.
I have come to accept my errors of the flesh and my foolish ideals. They are both me--to see and appreciate, for example, a woman inside and out. I am both; I can only surrender to what is, not how a part of me or someone else would have just so.
I am a romantic. As a child and young adult, medieval stories and courtly love bred me. In my renaissance, language and humanist ways ushered in an adulthood I have hardly coped with well, nor was I prepared for. Then I lost all for many years; neither beauty, nor truth, certainly not goodness saved my soul. Then life arrested me, and I am in a rebirth, now ten years in labor.
I harken back to where I have been, the wastelands and the promise. Oh, other important things happened along the way, but they make for too long a tale of seeming rationalizations.
The important thing is today. My love for you would be to share some of the beauty I have--from the romance, the renaissance, the romantic. Here are my current favorites that reflect this life. The real truth, most beautiful, and the best. Haunting lyrics and lines and words, melodies to suffice in the face of mortal matters, our questions, and the life we live to the fullest that we might realize our own truth, beauty, and goodness before the next adventure and quest begin.
Xmas 93
Christmas 1993
For my part I cannot end the year without writing . . . and sharing a few thoughts with you, one of a small number of very special people.
This year has been one of turmoil with moments of relative calm, and some healing. And I have shared parts or all of me with you under what have been for me very special and extraordinary circumstances. Many have seen how very human and frail I am. Others have witnessed glimpses of what I can be like in happier times. A few have looked into my unconscious and have not laughed. A couple I have let touch my soul. Some just touched it anyway--permission I granted without your asking. And I am glad for this, all of this.
I am not who I was nor am I who I will be. I am not where I was, nor will I be here for very long. I appreciate mental, emotional, and physical health much more than I ever did. I delicately balance myself every day on an edge between correspondent sanity and the deepest abyss, the abyss I thought in former times was reserved for others.
I appreciate and am coming to acknowledge the light that draws me to my true self. Some have said I have touched them in some way. For this I am glad too. It has been my mission to live again, and the way of that mission has been love which I have tried to express, however awkwardly. Some have been startled by my directness. "I love you" is not casual talk, and you did not take it casually, I know. But the light heals, even if we are apart. The light is still there for us, one more chance.
I have shed tears and been mortally wounded by the pain I have witnessed that others bear. This has not served me as well as it should since the counterbalance has been missing in my life, and I must admit is still missing.
I have taken refuge in my studies, my own company, my monastic ways. The death to rebirth process has not seen itself through to fulfillment. Re-birthing is hard stuff, particularly for mythical types such as I find that I am. Harder than anything I have ever done or contemplated. And the pain has been hell itself. I wish no one--not anyone--such pain as I have experienced, as I have caused.
I pray that what I call the cosmos will embrace all of us. I can no longer read newspapers or watch TV. The suffering and ignorance and lack of compassion are so difficult to view, to know about. I have used the word excruciating, and have come to a personal conclusion that crucifixions are salvation if there is but faith and hope. Would that salvation could be without such trials. They are sufferable and transcendent as we allow ourselves to be embraced by others, by faith and hope. We each have our own ghosts and demons, our own challenges, our own sadnesses which defy comparison--this I believe. May I gather myself to move better and beyond mine. I will, as best I can. Herein is my forgiveness of others. I am coming to forgive myself and feel the embrace.
St. Francis has been guiding me. I have not given up on him. I trust he will not give up on me. Perhaps like Francis, I have had altered states of consciousness, and they have led me to slow shifts in perception and belief. The consequences of this I already feel. But I do not care that I do not care about what my culture has presented as value. I admit I am finding difficulty with the "fit." I am not closed to all the possibilities, nor do I aspire to be closed. But I know what I know, even though I cannot prove or explain. I find myself on the outside of the worldly flow, but my perspective says that only some things matter. And non-things matter the most.
Through all of this and more, you have been there, or you were there at an important moment. I have not forgotten. I am thankful. And I love you for the help you have given me. May I be there at some moment or moments when you have as great a need as I for comfort, understanding, and love. The next year is another, but today will never come again. I am sorry for the lost days. But in view of this day and these moments, I treasure in just thinking about you.
I trust this letter finds you well and at peace with infinite moments of joy that embrace you, and that you can embrace.
For my part I cannot end the year without writing . . . and sharing a few thoughts with you, one of a small number of very special people.
This year has been one of turmoil with moments of relative calm, and some healing. And I have shared parts or all of me with you under what have been for me very special and extraordinary circumstances. Many have seen how very human and frail I am. Others have witnessed glimpses of what I can be like in happier times. A few have looked into my unconscious and have not laughed. A couple I have let touch my soul. Some just touched it anyway--permission I granted without your asking. And I am glad for this, all of this.
I am not who I was nor am I who I will be. I am not where I was, nor will I be here for very long. I appreciate mental, emotional, and physical health much more than I ever did. I delicately balance myself every day on an edge between correspondent sanity and the deepest abyss, the abyss I thought in former times was reserved for others.
I appreciate and am coming to acknowledge the light that draws me to my true self. Some have said I have touched them in some way. For this I am glad too. It has been my mission to live again, and the way of that mission has been love which I have tried to express, however awkwardly. Some have been startled by my directness. "I love you" is not casual talk, and you did not take it casually, I know. But the light heals, even if we are apart. The light is still there for us, one more chance.
I have shed tears and been mortally wounded by the pain I have witnessed that others bear. This has not served me as well as it should since the counterbalance has been missing in my life, and I must admit is still missing.
I have taken refuge in my studies, my own company, my monastic ways. The death to rebirth process has not seen itself through to fulfillment. Re-birthing is hard stuff, particularly for mythical types such as I find that I am. Harder than anything I have ever done or contemplated. And the pain has been hell itself. I wish no one--not anyone--such pain as I have experienced, as I have caused.
I pray that what I call the cosmos will embrace all of us. I can no longer read newspapers or watch TV. The suffering and ignorance and lack of compassion are so difficult to view, to know about. I have used the word excruciating, and have come to a personal conclusion that crucifixions are salvation if there is but faith and hope. Would that salvation could be without such trials. They are sufferable and transcendent as we allow ourselves to be embraced by others, by faith and hope. We each have our own ghosts and demons, our own challenges, our own sadnesses which defy comparison--this I believe. May I gather myself to move better and beyond mine. I will, as best I can. Herein is my forgiveness of others. I am coming to forgive myself and feel the embrace.
St. Francis has been guiding me. I have not given up on him. I trust he will not give up on me. Perhaps like Francis, I have had altered states of consciousness, and they have led me to slow shifts in perception and belief. The consequences of this I already feel. But I do not care that I do not care about what my culture has presented as value. I admit I am finding difficulty with the "fit." I am not closed to all the possibilities, nor do I aspire to be closed. But I know what I know, even though I cannot prove or explain. I find myself on the outside of the worldly flow, but my perspective says that only some things matter. And non-things matter the most.
Through all of this and more, you have been there, or you were there at an important moment. I have not forgotten. I am thankful. And I love you for the help you have given me. May I be there at some moment or moments when you have as great a need as I for comfort, understanding, and love. The next year is another, but today will never come again. I am sorry for the lost days. But in view of this day and these moments, I treasure in just thinking about you.
I trust this letter finds you well and at peace with infinite moments of joy that embrace you, and that you can embrace.
Like a circle
Life is like a circle, or at least we can make it look like one--a dog chasing its tail, the head coming round to meet it, and sometimes catching it for a moment or two.
It is this feeling I have meeting you today, my last group in this part of the world before returning to my own culture. It is a meaningful coincidence that most of you are from Poland, and I am here to talk with you about how computers and the Internet can support civics education. It is a coincidence because it was Poland, several Polish friends, and communications across borders via computers which brought me to my work for the Center for U.S. Studies. Here is the brief story.
In 1990, I asked one of my employees, Bogdan, what he was going to do now that he could travel, or perhaps move back to his own country. He asked in return, "What are we going to do?" My answer to that question was an American nonprofit organization I founded, which in turn took me to Wroclaw in 1991 to teach western business practices in the international language of English. The invitation and arrangements for that visit were made via e-mail, electronic chat, and computer discussion boards in Poland and the U.S. I was teaching English at the time in the U.S. and discovering how modern technologies could be employed to liberate teachers and learners from the time and space constraints of the traditional classroom. I then began to live this brave, new, networked civil society.
My visit to Poland in 1991 convinced me that I wanted to continue to contribute what I could in this region. By late 1993, I had settled my affairs in the U.S., and I had an invitation to live and work Jelenia Gora. From a small mountain town in Colorado I aimed for Poland, but the target I finally hit in 1994 was just over the mountains in the Czech Republic. So in these few short years I have learned how to say Dobry den instead of Dzien dobry. From Liberec I was hired here in Germany to teach how to use the Internet and computers to support teaching and learning, something I learned more about by teaching English using networked computers in Liberec and by studying for a doctorate without walls or timetables. But make no mistake: It was Poland, several Polish friends, and electronic communications which brought me here.
So to meet with you is particularly meaningful for me at the end of this journey. I am here to share some "technical stuff" as it relates to civics, I hope in a way that is consistent with educational practices that liberate, a word Polish and other peoples cherish. I am inviting you to experience the potential of democratizing teaching and learning through the tool of the World Wide Web. Democratizing at least means allowing, encouraging, and supporting students--each of us is a student--to develop to his or her capacity as members of large and small societies. Education with this purpose comes with values. Andrea has pointed them out: Students need to be active, engaged, informed, and critical participants in the educational (and other processes) that affect them. I believe these values mediated by technology, a borderless and expansive world, will tempt your students. Let's see.
I wish to allow you to learn by letting you introduce yourself to electronic tools and pedagogies. I can encourage you by assuring you that you can't hurt yourself or the technology in your explorations. I wish to support you by giving you some basic ideas and techniques to begin. We can do all this in the computer labs.
Andrea highlighted research showing that people effectively learn if given an authoritarian teacher/parenting style. Here is a bit of authoritarian direction. The following are the objectives, or tasks, to get you started in networked civics education. Choose your path!
[This piece began a week-long program on civics education. It sets the stage including how I got to the former Eastern Bloc. 2/10/99]
It is this feeling I have meeting you today, my last group in this part of the world before returning to my own culture. It is a meaningful coincidence that most of you are from Poland, and I am here to talk with you about how computers and the Internet can support civics education. It is a coincidence because it was Poland, several Polish friends, and communications across borders via computers which brought me to my work for the Center for U.S. Studies. Here is the brief story.
In 1990, I asked one of my employees, Bogdan, what he was going to do now that he could travel, or perhaps move back to his own country. He asked in return, "What are we going to do?" My answer to that question was an American nonprofit organization I founded, which in turn took me to Wroclaw in 1991 to teach western business practices in the international language of English. The invitation and arrangements for that visit were made via e-mail, electronic chat, and computer discussion boards in Poland and the U.S. I was teaching English at the time in the U.S. and discovering how modern technologies could be employed to liberate teachers and learners from the time and space constraints of the traditional classroom. I then began to live this brave, new, networked civil society.
My visit to Poland in 1991 convinced me that I wanted to continue to contribute what I could in this region. By late 1993, I had settled my affairs in the U.S., and I had an invitation to live and work Jelenia Gora. From a small mountain town in Colorado I aimed for Poland, but the target I finally hit in 1994 was just over the mountains in the Czech Republic. So in these few short years I have learned how to say Dobry den instead of Dzien dobry. From Liberec I was hired here in Germany to teach how to use the Internet and computers to support teaching and learning, something I learned more about by teaching English using networked computers in Liberec and by studying for a doctorate without walls or timetables. But make no mistake: It was Poland, several Polish friends, and electronic communications which brought me here.
So to meet with you is particularly meaningful for me at the end of this journey. I am here to share some "technical stuff" as it relates to civics, I hope in a way that is consistent with educational practices that liberate, a word Polish and other peoples cherish. I am inviting you to experience the potential of democratizing teaching and learning through the tool of the World Wide Web. Democratizing at least means allowing, encouraging, and supporting students--each of us is a student--to develop to his or her capacity as members of large and small societies. Education with this purpose comes with values. Andrea has pointed them out: Students need to be active, engaged, informed, and critical participants in the educational (and other processes) that affect them. I believe these values mediated by technology, a borderless and expansive world, will tempt your students. Let's see.
I wish to allow you to learn by letting you introduce yourself to electronic tools and pedagogies. I can encourage you by assuring you that you can't hurt yourself or the technology in your explorations. I wish to support you by giving you some basic ideas and techniques to begin. We can do all this in the computer labs.
Andrea highlighted research showing that people effectively learn if given an authoritarian teacher/parenting style. Here is a bit of authoritarian direction. The following are the objectives, or tasks, to get you started in networked civics education. Choose your path!
[This piece began a week-long program on civics education. It sets the stage including how I got to the former Eastern Bloc. 2/10/99]
Jonathan, in his honor and memory
I worked in the same department as Jonathan during the academic year, 1994-'95, in the Czech Republic. I have just heard of his passing. Please excuse this belated condolence.
I am writing to relate several stories, if you can call them that, that involve my knowledge of your son. It is my hope that this letter and what I will try to express may bring you greater peace and more specific memories of who your son was to us others, some so far away.
In short, I did not know Jonathan well. Yes, we occupied some of the same classrooms, meeting rooms, and a common kitchen in the hotel where we lived. But we were not close. Jonathan appeared to have a very rich and full life when we were in Liberec, but I was a recluse. I was working on my doctorate and very focused on that when not preparing for my classes. The reasons that brought me to keep some distance from him and others and to work on my own stuff are directly related to my loss, my daughter, just prior to arrival in Europe in 1994. I doubt Jonathan ever knew that, but he might have.
Even though some people do not grow close in close and even closed circumstances, they can interact and share some common experiences. Funny as it may sound, Jonathan's hunger clock was similar to mine, synchronized, you might say. We found each other at breakfast or dinner, often at exactly the same time. Jonathan relished eating and preparing food. He was always on the hunt for a great variety of goods in town to bring to the kitchen and prepare. He made me laugh when he cooked and ate things I wouldn't, or couldn't. I remember smelly fish, whole milk, fatty cheeses . . . and a rice pudding thing he used to make with generous portions of sugar. I ate oatmeal with plain yogurt every morning, but he said he was waiting until he could have brown sugar before he would make it. I don't know if he ever found the brown sugar.
Jonathan lined the tops of our kitchen and food cabinets with the empty beer bottles he, ahem, drained. I never saw him drink to excess, but the housekeepers found his collection to excess, threatening now and again to remove all of the empty bottles, perhaps for the deposits they held. The Czech Republic then and now is a place of meager supply and great demand. Jonathan liked to sample as wide a variety of beer as anyone I have ever known, now and again recommending this one or that telling me and others where he had found the latest. The different beers were not like a conquest, or something, that some college kids proclaim. I just think Jonathan liked tasting all of what life had to offer in this regard. It was a quality he was after, never to my knowledge quantity.
Kitchen conversations were always wonderful with him. He knew a lot about a lot of things I was then studying--philosophy and such. And he and others engaged in friendly and sometimes vigorous discussions. He and Rick used to go on and on. I never participated in these marathons, but could hear from down the hall that, well after dinner, they would still be at it, always with laughter, sometimes music. Jonathan was well informed and educated and articulate. His views were respected.
During my first nights in our hotel, somewhat late, I would hear someone singing accompanied by a guitar. It was only till much later I realized this was Jonathan. His music and song seemed as if from another person from the one I met in passing in the hallways and kitchen. I liked his music very much. So did his students. Now and again I would see him walking from class to class followed, the Pied Piper himself, by a gaggle of students. He was very popular with his students and the Czech staff.
One day he and I were talking in the kitchen, and the matter of missing things came up. I mentioned that I was missing a teaspoon that I had bought, having bought several for the foreigners who used the kitchen but keeping one in my food cabinet for myself. Spoons were a prized commodity in that kitchen. I was washing my dishes at the time, and I heard Jonathan from behind me say that he had taken my teaspoon. I made light of the matter. I admire to this day how he immediately confessed to an error. How different the world would be if we all could confess our errors big and small and learn from them. By his behavior in such a small thing, I could see strength and character.
My dissertation was about extraordinary things that happen to ordinary people. At an early stage of planning this work, Jonathan was going to provide a story of an experience he had had. He told it to me and Rick as we stood outside our building one evening. As my dissertation progressed, it became clear to me that Jonathan's experience did not fit. But what he spoke of and was willing to share, a very personal, visceral experience, I keep with me. I cannot relate the story, just the strong feelings I got as he told it. I thought then and still do now that only especially sensitive people have these intuitions. Jonathan was among the select in this regard, I believe.
I believe also his intuition and his charisma allowed him to travel as he did, to Romania, for example. Travels in this part of the world are not known as particularly easy or safe. He reported he had wonderful times in his travels. I feel that what he was able to communicate without words people respected and liked.
Jonathan and I discussed God and faith and the Bible. I cannot say I agree with him to this day. But we heard each other's differences. He even gently talked me into attending a church service with him one Sunday when he heard I had lost my mother a day or two previously. It was an occasion when he made some remarks to all in attendance, his remarks were very well received, and on his knees he was blessed by the celebrant or leader. I witnessed how much matters of faith and spirituality meant to him. He even reported to me one time about being somehow touched by a higher power during one of the services he attended in Liberec. Perhaps he told you of these things.
On one occasion, again in the kitchen, Jonathan talked of something. I am sorry I don't remember the subject. But I do remember what I, as older but no wiser, said to him and his reply. I told him life was precious, and very short. I think I had a gentle warning tone in my voice. He asked if I really thought it was short. I affirmed I indeed believed so. Because I could not elaborate without disclosing how painfully I knew this, I left the kitchen shortly thereafter and we spoke no more about it. And his apparent surprise at my comment leads me to believe he then knew nothing of my reasons for distance. And for my part, I did not want to spoil the youth and life that is Jonathan and the merriment that characterized the climate at that point.
Looking back I have lots of memories and feelings and thoughts about Jonathan. One I will share with you. With the passing of my daughter and Jonathan, I know it now to be true. God takes the best when they are young.
I hope this and my letter do not offend you in your ways of loving Jonathan. I certainly do not wish to bring you any difficulties by my reflecting and appearing to have answers. I do not have answers, just bits of consolation I can gather for myself. I do not presume you want or need any of these bits. I am just sharing with you and letting you know that I pray for your son, and it is an honor to have known him as I did.
I think the sum is that you can be immensely proud of Jonathan. He left many marks in his short time in the Czech Republic. And if I am any measure of that, one who hardly knew him, then even greater deeds were done by an extraordinary person.
Respectfully,
--composed sometime in 2001
I am writing to relate several stories, if you can call them that, that involve my knowledge of your son. It is my hope that this letter and what I will try to express may bring you greater peace and more specific memories of who your son was to us others, some so far away.
In short, I did not know Jonathan well. Yes, we occupied some of the same classrooms, meeting rooms, and a common kitchen in the hotel where we lived. But we were not close. Jonathan appeared to have a very rich and full life when we were in Liberec, but I was a recluse. I was working on my doctorate and very focused on that when not preparing for my classes. The reasons that brought me to keep some distance from him and others and to work on my own stuff are directly related to my loss, my daughter, just prior to arrival in Europe in 1994. I doubt Jonathan ever knew that, but he might have.
Even though some people do not grow close in close and even closed circumstances, they can interact and share some common experiences. Funny as it may sound, Jonathan's hunger clock was similar to mine, synchronized, you might say. We found each other at breakfast or dinner, often at exactly the same time. Jonathan relished eating and preparing food. He was always on the hunt for a great variety of goods in town to bring to the kitchen and prepare. He made me laugh when he cooked and ate things I wouldn't, or couldn't. I remember smelly fish, whole milk, fatty cheeses . . . and a rice pudding thing he used to make with generous portions of sugar. I ate oatmeal with plain yogurt every morning, but he said he was waiting until he could have brown sugar before he would make it. I don't know if he ever found the brown sugar.
Jonathan lined the tops of our kitchen and food cabinets with the empty beer bottles he, ahem, drained. I never saw him drink to excess, but the housekeepers found his collection to excess, threatening now and again to remove all of the empty bottles, perhaps for the deposits they held. The Czech Republic then and now is a place of meager supply and great demand. Jonathan liked to sample as wide a variety of beer as anyone I have ever known, now and again recommending this one or that telling me and others where he had found the latest. The different beers were not like a conquest, or something, that some college kids proclaim. I just think Jonathan liked tasting all of what life had to offer in this regard. It was a quality he was after, never to my knowledge quantity.
Kitchen conversations were always wonderful with him. He knew a lot about a lot of things I was then studying--philosophy and such. And he and others engaged in friendly and sometimes vigorous discussions. He and Rick used to go on and on. I never participated in these marathons, but could hear from down the hall that, well after dinner, they would still be at it, always with laughter, sometimes music. Jonathan was well informed and educated and articulate. His views were respected.
During my first nights in our hotel, somewhat late, I would hear someone singing accompanied by a guitar. It was only till much later I realized this was Jonathan. His music and song seemed as if from another person from the one I met in passing in the hallways and kitchen. I liked his music very much. So did his students. Now and again I would see him walking from class to class followed, the Pied Piper himself, by a gaggle of students. He was very popular with his students and the Czech staff.
One day he and I were talking in the kitchen, and the matter of missing things came up. I mentioned that I was missing a teaspoon that I had bought, having bought several for the foreigners who used the kitchen but keeping one in my food cabinet for myself. Spoons were a prized commodity in that kitchen. I was washing my dishes at the time, and I heard Jonathan from behind me say that he had taken my teaspoon. I made light of the matter. I admire to this day how he immediately confessed to an error. How different the world would be if we all could confess our errors big and small and learn from them. By his behavior in such a small thing, I could see strength and character.
My dissertation was about extraordinary things that happen to ordinary people. At an early stage of planning this work, Jonathan was going to provide a story of an experience he had had. He told it to me and Rick as we stood outside our building one evening. As my dissertation progressed, it became clear to me that Jonathan's experience did not fit. But what he spoke of and was willing to share, a very personal, visceral experience, I keep with me. I cannot relate the story, just the strong feelings I got as he told it. I thought then and still do now that only especially sensitive people have these intuitions. Jonathan was among the select in this regard, I believe.
I believe also his intuition and his charisma allowed him to travel as he did, to Romania, for example. Travels in this part of the world are not known as particularly easy or safe. He reported he had wonderful times in his travels. I feel that what he was able to communicate without words people respected and liked.
Jonathan and I discussed God and faith and the Bible. I cannot say I agree with him to this day. But we heard each other's differences. He even gently talked me into attending a church service with him one Sunday when he heard I had lost my mother a day or two previously. It was an occasion when he made some remarks to all in attendance, his remarks were very well received, and on his knees he was blessed by the celebrant or leader. I witnessed how much matters of faith and spirituality meant to him. He even reported to me one time about being somehow touched by a higher power during one of the services he attended in Liberec. Perhaps he told you of these things.
On one occasion, again in the kitchen, Jonathan talked of something. I am sorry I don't remember the subject. But I do remember what I, as older but no wiser, said to him and his reply. I told him life was precious, and very short. I think I had a gentle warning tone in my voice. He asked if I really thought it was short. I affirmed I indeed believed so. Because I could not elaborate without disclosing how painfully I knew this, I left the kitchen shortly thereafter and we spoke no more about it. And his apparent surprise at my comment leads me to believe he then knew nothing of my reasons for distance. And for my part, I did not want to spoil the youth and life that is Jonathan and the merriment that characterized the climate at that point.
Looking back I have lots of memories and feelings and thoughts about Jonathan. One I will share with you. With the passing of my daughter and Jonathan, I know it now to be true. God takes the best when they are young.
I hope this and my letter do not offend you in your ways of loving Jonathan. I certainly do not wish to bring you any difficulties by my reflecting and appearing to have answers. I do not have answers, just bits of consolation I can gather for myself. I do not presume you want or need any of these bits. I am just sharing with you and letting you know that I pray for your son, and it is an honor to have known him as I did.
I think the sum is that you can be immensely proud of Jonathan. He left many marks in his short time in the Czech Republic. And if I am any measure of that, one who hardly knew him, then even greater deeds were done by an extraordinary person.
Respectfully,
--composed sometime in 2001
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)