It's that time of year, again... the time of year when all I can seem to do is count down, look forward, and reflect. I do my best not to draw this phase out too much, because it is very emotionally demanding.
I mean, at this very moment I am sitting on my dreamy green bed, gazing out across the tennis courts, soccer and softball fields, and watching birds dive from the giant lights that often keep me awake at night, and my heart is so full that I fear I will have to lacerate it to take some of the pressure off.
Then again, I am almost constantly on my metaphorical tiptoes, ready to run headfirst into summer. Ah, summer... a time when all that matters is, as Carl Sandburg says, "...light and air and food and love and some work..." Speaking of good ol' Carl, I cannot WAIT to tromp around his property, up and down Big Glassy Mountain, around the pond, through the orchard, and down the big, grassy hill.
Tiptoes, I'm telling you. I'm on them.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Compliments of Dr. Marin Burton, Director of TeamQUESt
I just had the pleasure of attending the end of year celebration for the Office of Leadership and Service-Learning here at UNCG, where the director of TeamQuest, Marin Burton, was a guest speaker. She spoke briefly on the merits of experiential education as well as leadership before doing what she does for a living: engaging the entire room in an experience.
The experience went as follows:
1. First, Dr. Burton read us an example of an "I am from..." poem, written by a female student. She then informed us that we were all going to write similar poems, based on our backgrounds. She also informed us that these poems would be amazing.
2. Templates of the poem were distributed. We were given seven minutes to complete our poems.
3. Once the poems were finished, we split into groups of three to share our poems by reading them aloud.
4. From each group, a poet was elected to go to the front of the room to form a "tapestry of voices."
5. Five individuals read their poems, one after the other, without pauses between each. The only indication of transition was the soft snapping of fingers from the audience to commemorate each poet.
7. Then, we discussed. Some of the highlights of the discussion were how we could use this experience as a tool to improve our leadership, how it helps enhance our understanding of and empathy for others, and how it opens others to a raw, creative place in our lives and hearts that might not be otherwise accessed.
I took part in this activity enthusiastically today, for I do not fear words. I was also one of the five voices in the "tapestry". I could feel my increased heart rate pounding in time with the other hearts aligned with mine in the front of the room. As much as I wish I had all five poems to scribe here, I only have mine. And here it is:
I am from...
Baby carrots and Chapstick,
from Swiss Miss steam on my face in a cold warming room beside the little skating rink,
From lillies of the valley, bleeding hearts, and snapdragons, their names inspiring stories in my young mind.
I am from Mickey Mouse pancakes on Christmas mornings, cooked carefully by Uncle Mike and distributed lovingly by Auntie Ann; the best gift of all,
From the assertiveness, strength, and honesty my mother has taught me by example,
From "if it's real to you, it's real," and "always speak the truth."
From believing and following whatever is important to me, and never being forced in a particular direction (thank you).
I am from the Land of 10,000 Lakes and tubesteaks with corn on the cob,
from ghost-in-the-graveyard with the neighborhood gang, and climbing through my neighbor's bedroom window on early mornings before school so she could braid my hair.
The experience went as follows:
1. First, Dr. Burton read us an example of an "I am from..." poem, written by a female student. She then informed us that we were all going to write similar poems, based on our backgrounds. She also informed us that these poems would be amazing.
2. Templates of the poem were distributed. We were given seven minutes to complete our poems.
3. Once the poems were finished, we split into groups of three to share our poems by reading them aloud.
4. From each group, a poet was elected to go to the front of the room to form a "tapestry of voices."
5. Five individuals read their poems, one after the other, without pauses between each. The only indication of transition was the soft snapping of fingers from the audience to commemorate each poet.
7. Then, we discussed. Some of the highlights of the discussion were how we could use this experience as a tool to improve our leadership, how it helps enhance our understanding of and empathy for others, and how it opens others to a raw, creative place in our lives and hearts that might not be otherwise accessed.
I took part in this activity enthusiastically today, for I do not fear words. I was also one of the five voices in the "tapestry". I could feel my increased heart rate pounding in time with the other hearts aligned with mine in the front of the room. As much as I wish I had all five poems to scribe here, I only have mine. And here it is:
I am from...
Baby carrots and Chapstick,
from Swiss Miss steam on my face in a cold warming room beside the little skating rink,
From lillies of the valley, bleeding hearts, and snapdragons, their names inspiring stories in my young mind.
I am from Mickey Mouse pancakes on Christmas mornings, cooked carefully by Uncle Mike and distributed lovingly by Auntie Ann; the best gift of all,
From the assertiveness, strength, and honesty my mother has taught me by example,
From "if it's real to you, it's real," and "always speak the truth."
From believing and following whatever is important to me, and never being forced in a particular direction (thank you).
I am from the Land of 10,000 Lakes and tubesteaks with corn on the cob,
from ghost-in-the-graveyard with the neighborhood gang, and climbing through my neighbor's bedroom window on early mornings before school so she could braid my hair.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Can I get a drum roll, please?
I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN.
Starting a blog, that is.
Okay, maybe that isn't entirely true. I think I've always wanted to believe this would never happen, right alongside the other inevitable life events that I constantly deny. On that note:
I HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN THIS WOULD HAPPEN.
I had a Xanga ("What's XANGA?!" today's hip middle-schoolers scoff) way back in the day, journaling my profound, preteen blurbs... and you know, I loved it! It definitely served as an outlet that my personal journal never quite satisfied for me. There was something about knowing that my words would be seen by others that encouraged me to write better, and to structure concepts better... and.... and...
THIS IS SO BORING.
How about THIS:
Starting a blog, that is.
Okay, maybe that isn't entirely true. I think I've always wanted to believe this would never happen, right alongside the other inevitable life events that I constantly deny. On that note:
I HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN THIS WOULD HAPPEN.
I had a Xanga ("What's XANGA?!" today's hip middle-schoolers scoff) way back in the day, journaling my profound, preteen blurbs... and you know, I loved it! It definitely served as an outlet that my personal journal never quite satisfied for me. There was something about knowing that my words would be seen by others that encouraged me to write better, and to structure concepts better... and.... and...
THIS IS SO BORING.
How about THIS:
This, my friends, is a binturong, also known as a bearcat, despite the fact that it is neither a bear, nor a cat. It natively dwells in the forests of Asia, munching mainly on shoots and fruits but occasionally snatching neglected eggs and small mammals to increase its snacking variety.
Bints are mainly nocturnal and demonstrate mild demeanors unless cornered. What happens when they are cornered, you ask?
AHHHHH!!!
On that note, I'm off. Sweet dreams, everyone!
By the way, I'm
Kendra
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