In the Well of Souls

Mixed Media in Sketchbook

It has been awhile since I have written, again. I don't know why I have such a difficult time allotting time for things I love- like writing, but so it is...and I think I get better at it then I fall back into the same old traps again.  Work. Procrastination, which is work-based...it is not so much that I put off working (I don't) but that I have a hard time with prioritizing, then over-work things that don't need it, find myself tangled up in layers of leadership that I don't really want.  As soon as I step back from one thing- the museum job- I am double hit with an extra class online (which I do for the money) and the instructional leadership team at school (which is an honor- but lots of work).  And the endless county transition meetings and keeping the herd happy.  I get tired, and I long to sit and read or play or just be a passenger until I remember that I get carsick. The metaphor is apt because it is the same when I am not leading- I get impatient with waiting for information, for others to understand, for those reading aloud to catch up.  (That is a reflection back to grade school- I read so fast that it was torture to hear others read aloud, stumble over words that I already knew. Not pride speaking here, boredom.  And I can see the same thing happening in my classes but I feel powerless- we can't leave the stumbling behind but the swift wander off in their boredom, and in some ways that is even more dangerous.  State of education- feelings be damned, level the classes.  It is better for everyone-).  Anyway, enough of the whining.

SO, what have I been doing?  Working.  Burned the yarden off in the front, beginning to get a grip on it- early blooming and then it snowed.  Now it has been cold and rainy for a week, with a bit of occasional ice, back to winter but things still stir.  Mr. Owens has been filming Revolution, and a movie in Charlotte, today he has a casting call (that he doesn't know about yet- he is still asleep and it was just posted this morning). Yesterday I tossed in the towel- I *do* have the sniffles, but they really aren't *that* bad, and spent the day in the studio.  I worked in my sketchbook and the round-robin journal for the virtual school, took several naps and watched endless episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras (yes, it is my junk food for the brain) and a few spooky movies (whatever it is that I am stressing over, it is not nearly as bad as the whatevers people are coping with in scary movies.  Funny/ romantic/ dramatic movies just either stress me out more or annoy me when I am stressed.... which results in Mr. Owens watching a romantic sit-com about a vet's office in one room while I am deep into 'Fangoria' in the other.  Opposites, but attract).  Likewise, I don't like to write much when I am feeling overwhelmed- I see it as posting endless whining (which I can't abide) about something that I am not able to change at the moment.  I don't want to stress anyone out- or seem to be a total train wreck, for I am not.  I am getting by and this is something that I have to come to grips with and figure my way out of- this coupling of work and worth and my tangled brain at the moment.  Which they are working on untangling, but we are still not quite sure how to do that- more tests this coming weekend. I do know that certain behaviors make it worse: eating sugar, procrastination, marathon work days- and I know that limiting my diet, fresh air and organization make it better.  Trick is, I forget and the body goes on automatic- the mind is so focused on keeping above the surface of the tasks to be done that the body ends up refueling on its own, or wandering off aimlessly. (as in, I *need* to write this, then suddenly find myself up and roaming around looking for....paperclips.  or tape.  or some trivial physical thing). A lack of grounding.

Today, please accept my apology for not writing, not posting, not calling or contacting- and I know that today's post is not much help, but it is what it is, as they say.  (Actually, I hate that saying 'it is what it is', for various reasons.  It is a lazy way of giving in and accepting the unacceptable).  Truth be told, I want to scramble up to the surface today, try to get a focus and a grip, to hold onto the edge of the well and see the sun.

Hello, Crow.

Twa Corbies by Arthur Rackham

There is a story, an undercurrent to the world, and sometimes we are made aware of it in interesting ways.  It is what sustains my belief, rather than any tithes or words, books or chapels or promises to keep- though those are important in their way.  Rather it is the belief that things fall in place for a reason, and that the simple seemingly trivial actions of our days can echo in strange concurrence.

There is a facebook game where people give you a number, which represents your age.  For that number you answer questions about where you lived, who you loved, what you did, what you feared or wanted- things like that- then post your current age and corresponding answers.  It is interesting to see how lives turn out- and what people where like at other times.  Frannie gave me an age- 25- and I wrote about being a new mother, afraid of the landlord and the wolf of poverty at the door, working many jobs, living in Boone- and how that now, at 49, I am a woman, artist, scholar, wife, mother- still with many jobs, and fearing the inevitable consequences of student loans and the like.  But that is not what is important- what is important is that if someone 'likes' your post, you give them an age and they carry the game on.  And that is what I did, and that is where the undercurrent of belief comes in.  (First note:  I have been working waking to dark for the past two days on online school, it is odd that I took a break to play this game, odder still that Frannie gave me a number- why? I don't know, she doesn't tend to play this time of game either.  And then for the people who responded to see my post and respond- out of 700+ 'friends'....and now, for scene two.)

One of the people who liked my post was a former student, one of my black sheep students who was sent to me because no one else could tolerate him in class.  I gave him a number- 11- and he sent me a message, because what he wrote was to private for the world of facebook.  He told me of the death of his mother and the struggle of being raised by his father and step-mother, which eventually led to him protecting his little brother, the step-mother being institutionalized, and the brothers cast into a shuffle of living place to place.  In high school he acted the ass, even though he is fiercely smart and talented, and lived wherever- mostly with a girlfriend in a camper behind her house. He spoke of how his life is now, how he regrets his behavior (which was mischievous  not malicious and was forgotten long ago) in school, how he has a place of his own, a car, a job, a girl he loves, and how he is turning back to his talents and writing and drawing.  Creating a life of his own.  And then he told me about a dream and asked me a question.  (Begin scene three).

His dream (and we are talking sleep-dream, not aspiration dream) was a lucid dream.  A bridge in the fog, a crow on the bridge, and two phrases spoken- one remembered, one not.  He asked me if I knew anything about crows as a symbol?  Are they important or not?   

Crows and I are old friends.  Seems I've always loved them, but I did formally study them as well- as birds in Ornithology way back at Edinboro- the first birds I cared for live were captive crows, the first taxidermy I did was a crow.  Years later at ASU I studied the crow as a cross-cultural psychopomp, writing papers for Literature, anthropology, art.  And I've kept up the awareness, more or less- so yes, I do know quite a bit about crows.  And this is what I told him:

The Crow is powerful, the voice between the worlds. A psychopomp (which is a term I taught you all in class but is mostly forgotten as in 'those weird things the art teacher goes on about'). Anyway, the psychopomp has two important jobs: to escort the dead between worlds and to carry messages from the spiritual realm to the physical. Psychopomps are found in all cultures, all religions, ancient and modern- and the crow is one of the key players worldwide. Crows are tricksters, both lucky and wise, and are independent spirits. They belong to neither the 'good' or 'bad' 'sides'- but are actors of their own volition. As mythological creatures, they are typical of crossroads spirits- they like mischief, food/drink, material things and their deep knowledge is hidden by their antics. (Remind you of anyone? Mirror, mirror). In Jungian psychology, the crow is recognized as a communicant between the unconscious (collective and personal) and the self. Riddles and secrets- the appearance of the crow in your dreams in such a distinct way is not to be ignored. Crow's statement is curious, and taken with a grain of salt- he is telling you "I'm not going to tell you that you are dead." Which could mean a number of things, depending on how you take it. My perspective is that you are in transition- not material death but a choice to choose. Crow- or anyone- abdicates the power to direct your life, what you select to bury, reanimate or nourish- you have the power to choose as you will. *That* is not a common realization- most folk feel like their lives are their chains, and they have to drag everything around with them always. Get to know crow better- suggested reading (right up your alley) is to visit the following fictional but true crows: Matthew in Neil Gainams Sandman comic, the first Crow movie (but more importantly Jay O Barrs first comic if you can find it- the rest of the movies are crap, and the comic is a rough first effort- the drawing sucks in places- but the story is excellent). The poetry of Ted Hughes (who was the British poet Laureate for a while, and the husband of Silvia Plath) Neil Gainams 'American Gods'- a huge novel. Charles de Lint's 'Someplace to be Flying' (and most of his other books). Others. Mythology wise, Raven/Crow is important in Native American religion as a trickster, world-starter, psychopomp. Norse- Odin has his crows with him always (memory and mind/thought). Christianity- Noah first sent a crow to find land- the crow found the land and 'claimed it for himself'. African religions- crow is associated with Legba, Guede and Baron Samedi, trickster guardian of the cross roads and the dead. In Asia, there are three legged crows that carry the sun and messages.... and on and on. 

Anyway, what happened here is that *I* remembered crow as well- and the incredible power we all have to choose.  "We forget that what we forgot isn't meaningless"- a quote that I will do well to remember.

How is this going to play out?  I don't know, but I feel as if I played my part.  The right question at the right time, and the answer to that can change a life- or at least create a current in the river.  Is curious strange this world of ours, and we would do well to listen to its stories. 

Small Things and Time Slips

Leaf with Web.  Radish Group, 02/05/13

Time has slipped away from me again as it sometimes does, and suddenly it is February- and getting towards the middle of it.  I have been working non-stop (4 am to sleep) for the past few weeks, focused on classes mainly but also finishing up things- the portrait (which I didn't like, but did anyway.  And framed it.  And the *only* person who said 'Thank-you' was the librarian.....either it is much much worse than I thought or it was just passed over or something....but public 'Thank-yous' were given to those who organized the event and made the meatball appetizers. Ok, I may be petty- and the foods teacher is one of my friends who goes above and beyond and certainly deserved an award for all of the time spent on catering all of our school events- but......gee whiz.)  The HOSA flag is done, prom is underway.... and I just don't know where the time goes.  I don't slack off, not at all, but am always trying to ketchup.  Today is my ketchup day- I am staying home from work to work, to hopefully get all the details of stuff squared so that I won't have to be quite so frantic all the time. Thing is, I cut back on one thing- dropping the museum- and other things rise to take its place.  An extra section of classes to teach.  Workshops on the 12th (going to) and 18th (facilitating- while being audited by the Friday Group, which has to do with Race To The Top and the Federal government..... they will be in attendance observing the Fine Arts transition to the new curriculum.... no pressure there, just a major part of federal funding evaluations for our county......).  And I was called to the office the other day- good thing/bad thing- I had been named as one of four instructional leads for our school.  What that entails is working across departments to vet and align curriculum, and training all the other teachers in instructional design.  All of things that I love, and I'm teamed with the Science teacher Croson (which is awesome as I will explain in a bit), and they swore up-down-and-sideways that it would not take time out of school, but of course it will.  In the meantime we train others on Tuesdays during our Titan hour, and meet as a pod group on Fridays.  There are also representatives from Exceptional Children (to cover modifications for those populations) and Guidance (data. testing. ranks.)- so total a team of 6.  Exciting, but exhausting...already spread thin.  

              

But it is for the good of the kids, and it does work- as evidenced above.  Last summer I wrote a grant- 'Square Earth'- that had to do with combining art and science to document our local area, increase environmental awareness, and as a part of Project NOAH, which I participate in.  We purchased the cameras and supplies, but Croson and I did not have a chance to work together at all first semester.  This semester we have appropriate aligned classes, and combined two of them to begin the project.  My class was taught the basics of digital photography, her class the basics of environmental structure.  We combined them into groups and sent them out with cameras and scavenger hunt lists (and us!).  The groups are named after the cameras (which I name- because it is easier to remember 'Radish' than 'The pink nikon #x'.  We have Radish, Rose, Eclipse, Shadow, Crow, Snow, Salt, Phoenix).  The kids loved it- they worked really hard to find things- and managed to find things that I couldn't, or didn't think were out and about yet.  Crawfish, Lizards, flowers of all sorts.... I loved this to- field biology being one of my forever things- and combining tramping around with photography and good questions- excellent way to spend a morning.  What I loved the most is that the kids were curious. *That* to me is the most valuable part of the class- getting them to be curious, ask 'what is that?' or 'how do I do this?' .....that gives me more hope for the future than any test score ever. 

I am forever glad that I was encouraged to be curious, to ask why and to explore.  That is why I keep teaching I think- to see how it will all turn out, and to share that curiosity, hoping to infect them with just a bit of it.  And to do this well, sometimes I need to step back, like today, and just get things done and out of the way.  Then I can continue on my quest.