Sensei and Sensibility

DENTYNE AD CAMPAIGN COMMANDS MY ATTENTION

Subway rides, like travel, are times for looking around.  Earlier this week, it was the current Dentyne advertising campaign that commanded my attention.  Read this and see if you, too, might respond with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

power down.  log off.  unplug.  have mercy on your thumbs.   browse

the worldwide something else.  send some not so instant messages. 

undo.  hit cancel.   be together. make face time.

OUR HEADS DECIDE WHAT IS POSSIBLE AND OUR HEARTS GO BEYOND IT

For those readers who may have felt yesterday's post was too optimistic, I point to what happens when we develop feelings/emotions for something that drives us.  We tap into our resourcefulness.  We begin to discover the "other ways" we can get something accomplished.

I discovered this years ago when we were writing proposals for government grants for furthering the work of integration and educational reform.   In the course of developing a vision of what could be and writing a proposal, I discovered my personal investment in doing whatever it was I was writing about.  It happened time after time.

We were never funded at the level we requested so there was always a need to find alternative ways/means to realize our vision.  It was a matter of "our heads deciding what was possible and our hearts going beyond it."

AUTUMN'S PASSING: A FLOWER ARRANGEMENT IN ANTICIPATION OF THANKSGIVING

When Ariel and I met for a flower day on Friday, the context had been readied. Our materials were assembled, the table where we work was cleared and we had set aside time for  Kado practice.  Ariel brought lilies and branches.  I had eucalyptus, chrysanthemums and thistles.

I knew I wanted to work with multiple containers, the bunch of wheat and a tray.  I wanted "simple" and "spare."  No other flower says fall like chrysanthemums. The simple thistles reinforce the message.  I knew I wanted to work with both, as well as a bunch of wheat purchased recently at the Farmers' Market.

Color, line, mass and contrast were considerations, too. Yellow chrysanthemums, the color of sunshine, attract attention, arouse cheerfulness and evoke pleasant feelings.  They also provide mass.  The thistles provide line and contrast.

I named my completed arrangement "Autumn's Passing." The open spaces, something I associate with autumn, are one of the things I appreciate most about the arrangement.

A friend who was here for dinner would have opted for even more space.  She wondered aloud, "What would the arrangement look like minus the wheat?" This was not something I was willing to consider. "Harvest," is an important part of the late November/Thanksgiving story I wanted to tell.  The wheat stays!

A CRISIS, LIKE A GOOD MIND AND A CARING HEART, IS NOT TO BE WASTED

This morning I went to one of my favorite internet sites, Ted Talks, http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/benjamin_zander_on_music_ and_passion.html, and listened to a talk by Benjamin Zander, conductor. He began his talk by telling the story of two salesmen sent to Africa in the 1900s to assess opportunities for selling shoes.  Each wrote a letter back to Manchester.  One said, "Situation hopeless.  They do not wear shoes." The other wrote, "Glorious opportunity.  They don't have any shoes yet."

Zander, who is committed to helping people discover their passion for classical music,   went on to say there are those who claim classical music is dying.  His preference?  "You ain't seen anything yet."  

I was reminded of the Abraham Lincoln quotation,  "We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."

What do these examples suggest to me?  We choose how we want to see and we choose what we are going to believe.  If we can see thorn bushes having roses (not roses with thorns), we can just as surely realize/discover untapped love for new possibilities, new connections and/or new experiences.

I ask myself, "How do I see the possibilities for the new administration in Washington?"  I answer, "We have a glorious opportunity, a crisis we dare not waste." 

ON SEEING THE CALDER EXHIBIT AT THE WHITNEY MUSEUM

Last week my friend Doris and I went to see the Calder Exhibit at the Whitney Museum.  The show is entitled "Alexander Calder:  The Paris Years, 1926-1933."

In a fine pamphlet that accompanies the exhibit, the viewer learns just how extraordinary those seven years were:

"When Calder arrived in Paris in 1926, he aspired to be a painter; when he left in 1933, he had evolved into the artist we know today:  an international figure and defining force in twentieth-century sculpture.  In these seven years Calder's fluid, animating drawn line transformed from two dimensions to three, from ink and paint to wire, and his radical innovations included open-form wire caricature portraits, a bestiary of wire animals, his beloved and critically important miniature Circus (1926-31), abstract and figurative sculptures, and his paradigm-shifting "mobiles."

Calder had studied engineering.  He knew the principles.  He had an engineer's eye--and he had an affinity for movement.  He put art into motion.  But would the engineer and the artist have come together, divided no more, in any place other than Paris?

In Paris, Calder enjoyed the company of many artists and writers.  He became life-long friends with such artists as Piet Mondrian, Fernand Leger, Joan Miro and Marcel Duchamp.  It was in the studio of Mondrian that Calder received the "shock" (his word) that turned him toward abstraction and triggered ideas for employing movement in abstract sculptural forms.

In Mondrian's studio, Calder saw some colored rectangles tacked on the wall.  Calder suggested to Mondrian "that perhaps it would be fun to make these rectangles oscillate."  Mondrian wasn't interested. He said his paintings were already very fast.  But for the one with the engineer's eye, it was a defining moment.

There are wonderful things to see in this show, not the least of which is the Circus with film of Calder "performing" it.  However, for me, an equally compelling aspect of the show is the role of context--both in terms of place and people.  Calder found his "band of brothers" in Paris and it made all the difference.

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF FINDING COMMON PURPOSE

By chance this afternoon, I explored the website, "Forwarding the Conversation,"http://forwardingtheconvo.com/  In the subtext of Forwarding the Conversation, the creators say, We did not put our ideas together.  We put our purposes together.  And we agreed.  Then we decided."

First things first?  I noticed the sequence:  Connect purpose (not ideas); agree on that purpose--through careful talking and listening actions guaranteed to bring people closer together, and, finally, decide what's possible (not what's wrong) and keep asking.

When people connect/align their purpose, they talk about what is significant to them, what they care about.  This is an emotional thing, a declaration of passion.  As this is delved into and understood, possibly in ways never considered before, commitment grows and a sense of possibility, too.

As the conversation continues--with people we know, people we don't know and with those we never talk to, it helps--and makes the process more fun--if we expect to be surprised and if we treasure curiosity more than certainty.  Everyone is an exert about something.  New groups of people will make new connections and new connections are the source of creative solutions.

Is there a power greater than a community discovering what it cares about?  I doubt it!  Meaningful conversation can change our world.  I suspect it is the only thing that will.

Note:  I'll be returning to the website, Forwarding the Conversation.  For starters, I want to leave a reply to their invitation which begins with a quote by Woodrow Wilson:  "Simple means should be found by which an interchange of points of view may get together.  For the whole process of modern life is a process by which we must exclude misunderstandings, bring all men unto common counsel, and so discover what is the common interest."

ONE TO WORLD EXPERIENCE IN NY

Last week I went to the NY Historical Society for a  ONE TO WORLD Welcome Reception in honor of 2008-09 metropolitan-area-based visiting Fulbright Scholars from around the world.  Some 204 students from 76 different countries are studying here.  Most of them, plus other guests, many of them former Fulbright Scholars in various places around the globe, attended.

After some introductory remarks, we went to the fourth floor for a cocktail reception.  The crush was awful and the din was worse.  Fight or flight--what was it going to be for me?  "I'm not running out of here," I said to myself.  "I'm going to talk with at least three people," I resolved.

For starters, I chose a Chinese man who was standing by himself.  "Are you having a good time?" I asked him.  "Oh, yes!," he replied.  "I think it is dreadful," I said, referring to the noise.  And so we began! (He is studying American democracy with special attention focused on politics, economics and culture.)

The next fellow was from India.  He had been a visiting scholar at an earlier time.  Now he lives and works in Princeton where he recruits for several businesses.  He spoke glowingly of his participation in the Global Classroom project and about teaching as a way to accelerate learning for oneself as well as others.

My next conversation was with Stephan.  Born in Paris but calling Mexico City home now, he is doing research in political science at New York University.  "Language as Power," is his topic.  

Two young people from Israel, both neuroscientists, joined us.  The young man had lived for a year in Ithaca, NY as a young boy when his father had a sabbatical there.  That had not been a happy experience.

All are loving living in NY.  (I told them I was, too!)  "It will be difficult to return," the young man from Israel said.  "It will be so quiet," said his young wife.

The students were going on to a bar--and more din.  I was thrilled to be returning to the quiet of home. 

As I reflected on the evening, I made this discovery:  Our greatest difference showed up in our tolerance (or lack of it) for noise.

WHAT KIND OF COUNTRY DO WE WANT?

I rolled out of bed early this morning in order to be at the polls when they opened at 6 a.m.  During the years I've lived in midtown Manhattan, there has never been a line at my polling place.  Not so this morning. Not only was there a line, it grew steadily.

Today citizen across the nation answered the question, "Who do we want to lead us?"  The bigger question is this:  "What kind of a country do we want?"

Participants in last week's Salon, a group I host monthly, began discussing this matter. Our topic was "What Is Wealth?"  That some two dozen indexes have been developed which are generally acknowledged to measure human wealth--often referred to as general welfare--was compelling stuff.

We were accustomed to thinking about wealth in terms of Gross National Produce (GNP) and Gross Domestic Product (GDP), statistical indexes commonly used to measure the wealth of nations by determining the value of known goods and services produced within the nation in a given year.  These new measures are more comprehensive, more inclusive, than GDP.  We wanted to know more.

The Weighted Index of Social Development (WISP), is a Quality of Life measure that uses 40 different social indicators from 10 categories to assess/compare 163 nations.  Some of the categories include education, health, the natural environment, general equality, cultural diversity, social chaos, military expenditures and traditions of general welfare--as well as the national economy.

These categories translate human values, values generally ignored in the calculations of GDP, into matters we care about:  access to a long and healthy life, democracy, political participation, family and social networks, enjoyable recreational pursuits, low crime rate and more.

One of the key assumptions was the importance of socioeconomic equality.  A nation's ranking depends on how evenly its resources are distributed throughout the entire population, the extent of poverty (especially among children) and access to adequate health care, education and housing.

The immediate impact of our Salon conversation last week was to take a bigger view of the wealth we are experiencing even as the financial structure is requiring a bailout and the ties between Wall Street and Main Street are becoming more apparent all the time.

The notion that real wealth is evidenced in human capital, social capital and natural capital resonates with us.  So, too, does the notion that real wealth is created by investing in the human capital of productive people, the social capital of caring relationships and the natural capital of healthy ecosystems.  In the longer view, we want to see our values/the kind of country we want embedded in the way we measure our wealth.

ON RETURNING FROM A WALKING TRIP IN BASQUE COUNTRY

There has been a long hiatus since my last posting.  It is clear to me now, in retrospect, just what has been going on during these last four and more months.  I've been transitioning--again and still! I'm just back from a walking trip in the Basque Country in France and Spain.  On a walking trip, life is simple, pared to the essentials:  you walk, eat and sleep ("and shower," my traveling companion added).

ROUNDNESS IN THE FLOWERS

On a Friday morning two weeks ago, my friend, Ariel, and I met at my home for flower practice. Each of us purchased flowers which we agreed to share. Ariel brought sunflowers and alstroemeria, all in yellows. I selected white flowers, lilies, ornithagolums (Star-of-Bethlehem), freesia, and long grass.

When we were ready to begin, Ariel sounded a chime and we listened in silence for two minutes. (Ariel quotes a teacher of hers who says, "The temple bell stops but the sound keeps coming from the flowers.") Wanting to listen for that sound, we agreed to work in silence.

When we finished, two "signs of life" were apparent in our arrangements: the spiral in Ariel's and the circle in mine. 

Roundness was apparent in my arrangement from the start.

 

I chose a fish-bowl container, inserted circles of green grass inside the container and created more circles outside with individual strands of grass. All of this was a matter of listening. I had no conscious idea when we began.

Living with these flowers for a week was a joy. The circle, symbol of wholeness and unity, is a source of inspiration to me. I see circles--or possibilities for them--all about me. (The white of the flowers, a vivid reminder that all color has its origin in the brightness of white, was a pleasure as well.)