Wrestle And Be Grateful [on DR Thursday]

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Among the cruelest things I’ve ever said is that I didn’t want to be like Quinn. I spoke those words in frustration, anger and fear.

The truth is that I have spent most of my life trying to be just like Quinn. Articulate, well read, capable of seeing from many points-of-view. Funny. Following his own star. A great teller of stories. He was so wise.

Quinn died last weekend and, today, I am wrestling with my cruelty.

I imagined that one day I’d be able to take back or explain my angry words.  I imagined sitting with him in his study, surrounded by his books and yellow pads and red pens and old coffee and laughing at my folly. He had a great laugh.

The last time I saw him he came to a class that I was teaching. Even after my cruel words he showed up, happy to help me. He thrilled my students with his hilarious musings and tales of serendipity. “Cultivate your serendipity,” he’d say. Intend your happy accident.

I walked him to the door and he hugged me. I was sheepish and he was kind. “That was fun,” he said, mostly to help me in my discomfort.

Kindness. Another quality to emulate.

Mostly, as I wrestle with my angel, I am grateful that providence brought to my life such a good man, such a great teacher.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WRESTLING WITH ANGELS

 

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this watercolor, wrestling with an angel, is old so let’s just say ©️ 2019 david robinson

Find Your Poetry Tree [on Chicken Marsala Monday]

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I stood before a school board and found myself defending daydreaming. I’d piloted an experiential learning program in the district and the board wanted to ensure my students would be “nose-to-the-grindstone” every moment of every day.

Learning (a creative process) has nothing to do with grindstones. Constant activity, rote exercises and busy-work-for-the-sake-of-busy-work may give the appearance of learning but that’s about it. People learn when in the pursuit of something real and my students were making movies, writing plays or starting businesses. Staring out of the window, I explained, was not only valuable but necessary. I wasn’t making excuses. I had brain science and learning theory to back me up.

There are very good reasons that most “aha moments” happen in the shower, while driving, or, like my students, staring out a window. Inner-space and quiet are necessary ingredients for insight. A good gaze out the window is, in actuality, an inward look, it’s a mental walkabout, a mind-stroll that allows a noisy brain to take a breath and let the logjam of thoughts to relax and flow.

Quinn used to tell me to cultivate my serendipity. He meant that I should open myself to insight, to make myself available to surprises and possibilities, to the utter magic of “where did that idea come from?” Opening yourself requires a good window or, like Chicken, a special poetry tree. On this Chicken Marsala Monday, get your nose off the grindstone, find your poetry tree, and allow the insights to find you.

POETRY TREE gifts and reminders

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Read Kerri’s blog post about FIND YOUR POETRY TREE

www.kerrianddavid.com

find your poetry tree ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

find your poetry tree designs/products ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood