Common Sense

What is common sense, other than the title of Thomas Paine's historic pamphlet "Commn Sense" that was pure genius, making the case for the American revolution? Although my little contribution here does not compare to Paine's efforts and impact, I still hope hope that an awakening of some kine would make common sense more common! Not holding my breath.
     I wonder if common sense can be learned or taught, or is it something that just comes naturally to some people? IF we could think about it, consider how important it is to our lives, and begin to look for it around (or realize it is missing), maybe, just maybe, we would be persuaded, as the Colonists were, to "do something" with what we have learned and begin to acquire it ourselves to our benefit and to the benefit of others.
    Although in leadership and decisions of import we also must consider the facts, research, data many other factors, common sense may appear first, and ususally in a simplified, straightforward approach, without the need for elaborate reasoning, statistics or facts, though there is always a logic in it. It is more of an immediate, "gut" response than something thought through in the moment. 

    Children often display a remarkable capacity for common sense. Everyone who has been around children probably has a story about a child coming up with a solutions, making wise observation, or reacting to situations with more common sense than most adults. Could common sense be a capacity with which we are born, but over time are "taught" or conditioned not to use, especially through formal education and the media?  

    Formal education does not seem to foster common sense approaches or responses. Education often has all of the answers or the right questions to ask.  Did you ever read or have to respond to those dumb questions at the end of chapters in text books or novels? I prefer to formulate my own questions and encouraged students to do the same. There is also a lack of common sense in standardized testing, which has been the main gauge of students' abilities for college application, though this may be changing. 

In fact, possible common sense “answers” from creative, more imaginative students (ones who don't think in straight lines) may also be valid, but considered “incorrect.” Students have to be trained to take certain tests and to use certain strategies which help them score better. In other words, children have to learn how to take tests to be more likley to give the only correct answers. Such practices diminish the capacity for common sense and essentially teach what to think, not how to think.Hopefully there is othere opportunity in the classrooms for encouragement to use different kind of thinking, perspectives or solutions to a problem. 

    One might also consider the media's and social medias' roles in deleting common sense forever from our menu of options. The daily and relentless news tips regarding medicine, food, diets, and lifestyles create a complex, confusing and contradictory landscape of possible panaceas, or disasters waiting to befall us. In addition, the so- called reality shows have had people wading in sewage, eating maggots, vying for romatic hook ups and, maybe soon, selling their children, if it means "winning"--all of which makes us less likely to believe that people have the sense they were born with. Then there are the video “games” giving us the opportunity to participate as grand theft auto felons, hikers to nowhere, shooters and other actions that make the case that life indeed imitates art.

    Radio and television talk show hosts rant and rave in narrow rhetoric, espousing extreme positions and all manner of unfounded conspiracies to gullible followers. Common sense suggests that these "gurus" can't be right all of the time (and the"other side" wrong) and would also reveal that such hyperbolic hosts (e.g. the infamous, dytopian, but influential Steve Bannon and Alex Jones) are essentially entertainers, provokateurs and moral midgets (raking in the cash) not journalists or fact-finding fellows. Common sense would also tell us that the pros and cons of other opinions, beliefs and perspectives need to considered to see the whole picture of people, places, events and are to be logically considered, debated, and understood in order make judgements, decisions and solve problems. But forget that approach in the current zietgiest fraught with division and bizarre conspiracy theories held on to with religious fervor. 

    Social media, like it or not has become a source (maybe the only one for many) of news and views which also should be tested, expanded upon, in some cases held suspect until proven otherwise, yet again, currently, is not the case, even if what is given out is proven bogus, false with no evidence or proof. Being exposed to all of this nonsense can make us despair that common sense may never be valued as not only a desirable, but also a vital and necessary human capacity. How are we to foster and develop common sense so that we are not at the mercy of an education system with often inane procedures and policies in effect discouraging common sense, or the fears of censors who indiscriminatly and ignorantly ban all manner of historic and/or classic literture (e.g. Cather in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Diary of Anne Frank) that would/could challenge readers to learn about the human condition, and think for themselves. These kinds of fear-driven decisions not only suggest that there is no faith in common sense, but such efforts prevent others from acquiring a broad and deep cultural literacy and developing the resources to make assessments and decisions a variety of subjects.
    Even though things may seem hopeless in many areas these days, common sense is probably not something that can be totally annililated, despite the lack of it all around us. If children are not getting what they need to think or have common sense experiences in their classrooms, parents can consider home schooling to that end. Unfortunatley, sometimes home schooling is thought of as a way to protect children from what is feared most "free thinking' so they trade what they think is one kind of indoctrination to the indoctrination of their choice. 

    Ideally, home IS a place for discussion, debate and oppotunities to explore various ideas and perspectives. Parents have a crucial and necessary role in identifying, encouraging and affirming common sense. They can praise when they hear or see common sense displayed or spoken. Parents and teachers can make reading and visual materials available that encourage thinking rather than preventing it, and they can also be examples of common sense themselves and/or point out examples of it in history, literature, films, social situations, etc. If we look we will see practical situations and solutions as examples aboundng in history, science, inventions, research and in every day life. Parents can also discuss with their children examples of lack of common sense when the opportunity arises. 

    Not to put all the responsibility on parents, all the above can also be and sometimes is done by caring and thoughtful teachers, family, neighbors and friends, who also may have a role in limiting TV, screen and computer time, which may allow children to tap into and use their own imagination, hear their own voice, their own questions, formulate or seek out their own "answers," play inventively and creatively, rather sources replete with banal and watered down versions of life with stock characters spouting sentimental and/or sarcastic language in tone and meaning.

    Let’s all try to revive and affirm common sense whenever and wherever we can, encourage it and hope that is not gone forever. 

    And here ends my little blog "pamphlet" contribution to the need for Common Sense and ways we may at least begin to think about looking for it, identifying it, fostering it and using it. 

Gleaning the Meaning

I am sitting in an austere classroom, devoid of pictures, color and warmth in a cold, red brick school house at the top of a narrow cobblestone street. There is a high, black iron fence around it with a recess yard in the back, paved over--no greenery, inside or or out. The children can, however, look to the the blue sky and clouds above and feel the breeze as they pay tag unitl the a bell rings out, calling the children in from recess into the dark halls. 

     Then up they go up the creaky wooden steps into rooms where stern nuns stands at the front of the classroom to continue the lessons, which often turn into the topic of sin or and admonishment to or humiliation of one or another of the students or the class as a whole. 

     Yet, there is one shining lesson which rays out—I suppose my first memory of being transported in an instant away from the ordinary. A small book was given out with cream-colored, newsprint pages filled with poetry and reproductions of paintings in sepia tones. This must have been a rare event; maybe happening only that once. Even though the book itself was plain, without color, I remember taking it into my hands with reverence and anticipation. Looking through that book was nourishment for a hungry soul, strength for a growing child, fresh air in the close room, light and warmth in the midst of the cold. Such are the gifts of beauty.

     In this book were paintings and poems: Van Gogh's painting a man with hand over he face, which I somehow recognized as a gesture of sorrow. There was The Gleaners by Millet figures bent over scythes working in a field with was softness in the strength of the workers’ bodies, purpose in their efforts, and a beauty in curvature of those lines. 

These images and the poems awakened something in me. One of the poems was lovely, and I had the first stanza by heart the moment I read it.

     Hope is a thing with feathers
     That perches in the soul
     And sings the tune without the words
     And never stops at all. (Emily Dickinson)

These images and words were speaking to me from a place I could enter and through them transporting away fdeadening to the spirit environment--inside and out . 

     I found then, and since then, that the arts are rain and sun surrounding and penetrating the shell that threatens to form around the seed of soul…a seed that is meant to sprout, leaf, bud and bloom. It seems that so much in life would have the shell harden and become impenetrable. That potential blossoming, however, becomes more probable and possible through natural beauty and through the arts and literature, which are expressions of  of what we see, experience, intuit, remember, anticipate, aspire to, and all that can be felt imagined and dreamed--filling the world with all forms and color, with movement, light, music introducing us to gleaning the meaning of human experience, collectively and individually. 

HOW DO I LOVE THEE?

     Dante sees Beatrice for the first time

         How do I love thee, Florence?  Let me count the ways.

Reminiscing about a long-ago stay in Florence, Italy, I experience the memories as gifts to open at any moment--treasures filling my heart, mind and senses with impressions of that "Jewel of the Renaissance."
Many years ago, my husband Robert and I went to live in Florence for one year. As often happens, things did not go as we had planned, and we left discouraged after only a few months. Our money was running out. I could not find a source of income to sustain our stay, and Robert's plan to work with another artist fell through. When I look back, however, it is not the failed plan I remember most, it is the 'Being" of Florence and the infinite impressions that remain with me.
    As young people, just married a little over a year, we had our lives ahead of us, We had sold or stored whatever we had in our little apartment and left for Italy. We found a small, but lovely place with a little fireplace on via di San Giuseppe, across from a side entrance to the Basilica of Santa Croce, with its green and white checkered limestone facade. From our window, we had a view of the statue of Dante Alighieri. How tragic it must have been for him to be exiled, but now he stands watch in the busy sunlit piazza, reclaimed by his beloved city.
    When we first entered the Santa Croce, I was in awe of the exquisite architecture and embellishments—the columns, statuary, stenciling, gold leaf, paintings, sculptures, and the ornate marble tombs of Michelangelo, Galileo and Machiavelli, the three masters of art, astronomy and politics. Exploration of the art and history associated with this one Florentine basilica alone could occupy a lifetime.
    Florence is a feast for the senses: aromas of espresso; roasting delicacies in wood-fired ovens; displays of dreamy, creamy pastries; la lingua italiana heard from passersby and in the open markets; the reverberating church bells all over the city at the canonical hours. There is a special kind of light in Florence too—a golden shower falling on red tile roofs, filtering down on ancient stone and marble, and above the city the azure hills of cypress, olive orchards and vineyards.
    There in a niche at Orsanmichele, a scuplture by Verrocchio; here a garden or fountain; the grandeur of Santa Maria del Fiore and Baptistry with doors of bronze await in the magnificent piazza del Durmo. In a stroll over the Ponte Trinita, one can imagine Dante's eyes first falling upon his immortalized Beatrice, where he first saw her. And, oh! just down that street Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning lived, loved and wrote.

Santa Maria de Fiore

i porti bronzi by Gilberti

    These experiences, if only of a very brief part of my life, are treasures I can bring to mind, opening a world alive with color, light, sound, warmth, movement and meaning—and beauty that can never be described, although I have tried to count the ways. No, only to be remember Florence in all ways -- and always!

PILGRIMS ALL

Pause for Reflection at Montes de Oca

Pilgrims All - From Wilderness to Promised Land

Traditionally, a pilgrimage is an intentional journey to a destination considered sacred or significnt in some way, associated with a person, place or event. Many are the worldwide sites to which pilgrims have travelled over the ages: Mecca, Lourdes, Varanasi on the Ganges, The Wailing Wall, Deer Park, Rome, Jerusalem, Canterbury and Santiago de Compostela, as well as others not so well known.

     Setting out on a pilgrimage involves both physical and psychological experiences. There is uncertainty, with the realization there may be risks or unexpected encounters along the way, but also great anticipation of the adventure. And so, pilgrims set out with a commitment and will to reach their destination. Such an experience has often been said by pilgrims to have been transformational toward a heightened consciousness and greater self-knowledge.

     Expanding on the idea of "pilgrimage," we may imagine, or have experienced, that some of life's journeys are unplanned "pilgrimages," sometimes thrust upon us by necessity or chance, taking us to distant landscapes, sometimes inner ones! Any story worth telling involves a pilgrimage of sorts, and we have examples of such pilgrimages in film, plays, myth and literature.

     The film, The Miracle Club comes to mind. Another is Shakespeare’s play, King Lear. In it, the king finds himself on an unintentional pilgrimage, both inner and outer when, through his pride, he seeks affirmation from his three daughters of their love for him, saying "Which of you shall we say doth love me the most?" and that he will give up his rule and his entire kingdom to whomever expresses adoration for him.

     His youngest daughter. Cordelia refuses to honor Lear’s selfish and foolish demand and, therefore, is disinherited by him. While his other daughters, Goneril and Regan, speak words of love crafted for their own self-gain. However, once they receive what he promised, they exile him, forcing him out of the kingdom to wander on an unexpected pilgrimage into the wilderness, with all lost to him: position, power and wealth.

     Most devastating to him is his daughters' betrayal, as he endures the outer elements of a raging storm, and the inner ones of anguish, despair, and madness—not knowing where he is or who he is, until Cordelia comes to his rescue--true proof of her love. He is transformed then from inner wilderness to  the "promised land" of forgiveness, acceptance and unconditional love, that which he had been seeking all along.

     Ultimately, are we not all pilgrims—for our faith, for an adventure, or, as Lear, for unconditional love and acceptance? Whichever it be, we must submit to the challenges and be grateful for the blessings of our journeys, intentional or not, having taken  us to the ends of the earth, or to the "limits of our longing."

     One thing is certain, we will not end up where we started. If we are fortunate, like King Lear, we can emerge from Wilderness to Promised Land.

It's Not Tomorrow Now

I visit my son's family as often as I am able on work days off, vacation time and holidays. They also visit us, but have busy lives with a young son, Finn, and visiting them allows me to be part of their lives for a time--and even lend some support with school, chores and dinner. When I visit, I always hate to leave and start looking forward to the next visit. I tell Finn when I am leaving and that I will be back soon.

On my last visit, I told him, "Nonna will be leaving tomorrow and I feel sad." 

Finn immediately said, “It’s not tomorrow now," a stunning realization for me, and, of course, he was right in his perception--"out of the mouth of babes." How foolish of me to jump ahead, and not remain in the present, not worrying about yesterdays and tomorrows. For him there was only the now.  

It’s never tomorrow now, nor is it yesterday or tomorrow now, but it is always and only NOW! 

Children are intuitive and so much wiser than we in that regard—of living in the present, and I am convinced that my grandson is unusually remarkable in his ability, not only to immediately sense that I was no in the "now" with him, but also to articulate that “deep insight,” even though it is a simple,  matter of fact reality we forget to live by. 

He was reminding me, "You and I are here together right now, so let’s enjoy our time and not think for even one second about a time when we will not be together—for that takes away from the time we do have.

I love you, Finn, for a lesson I may need to recall again and again--that in love and the best parts of life we do not live in time. 

There is only the present where "time touches eternity," and that is heaven on earth!

The Show Must Go On?

I am familiar with the night
Its dark, silent stage
Then scenes open
In a floodlight of memory

I re-enact my life
the desires, the illusions
The cold prompter, Fear, in the wings,
I have the role for life

The Director?
An invisible, temperamental critic,
encouraging me to perform.

Oh! I’ve convinced myself

That I modify my part from time to time
A subtle gesture here
An improvisation there

The truth is I have perfected the role 

into ritual, but, no one notices
Except  the dcritic 

Accompanied by the beat of my heart
Acknowledging and reminding me
That only I can draw the curtain

Retire the part
Change the play

My critic says: “I’ll put you in touch with my son,
A fabulous agent, a miracle worker, I tell you.
He’ll show you how to reinvent yourself.
In fact, he specializes in Rebirth.”

JAMES BALDWIN SAID:

Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have.

For while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell. It’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness. (James Baldwin)

No One Has Heard

No one can truly hear another's song
we cannot even hear our own
in words--only tones
rising to the rough surface
then sinking down into
the mystery of dreams

Songs of memory

songs of longing

songs of dread

Beyond this plane we have met

before birth, before earth

will meet again
all soul songs moving, mingling
quiet as grief

No one can hear
though our life's work--
to listen and sing--
a choir in the blue air
among the stars

Poem at Michaelmas

I am self-contained
I bear my self within me
I am apt
I am alone

Poems and Prayers

Published in New View magazine, UK- Summer Issue 2010

Poetry is a ‘term’ often used to describe rhyming verse that expresses feelings. And, of course, anyone is free to write and call it whatever they wish; however, if a creation is to be "art," it must embody more than personal expressions. The art of poetry is in its ability to embody "living thought," in which the reader can sense the shaping, as truly as possible, of the "vision" or experience the poet is conveying. “Poetry… should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost a remembrance” (Keats).

Great poetry can often strike us just that way, as both personal and universal, whether it be a simple haiku or an epic. Gilgamesh; The Mahabharata; The Odyssey; The Divine Comedy; Shakespeare’s plays (which are all poetry); Parsifal and other literary works and represent an age or culture, and also transcend it. Together, the greatest works of the ages can be understood as a kind of history of humanity’s evolution in imaginative form, and as moral guides for those who can see and hear. To be true to a vision or experience, and to re-create them in words (which are not just words) takes some effort and some understanding.

The art of poetry must involve interest in many elements and resources, both inner and outer. One might look to the classics (or other works of art) and compare them with mere verse. Yes, it is true that we are not slaves to the past, to conventions, or to any rules per se. In fact, in our time, we feel ourselves to be individuals free from the past and standards, which we perceive as limitations. But to disregard, or, worse yet, to be ignorant of how poetry evolved (or any other art for that matter) is to be isolated from true “originality.” Self-reference only, in an effort to express one’s feelings, can result in nothing more than sentimental verse, which has neither wide appeal nor longevity.

Students of poetry can begin to build a picture of and a sense for just what makes classics and other true poetry living, lasting and essentially different from mere verse or prose. What resounds in poetry that moves us so deeply and transports us so fully? The connections of poetry to nature's rhythms and to its inherent analogies to the human being and human experiences also must be considered. The poet’s vision embodied might dawn on us as though it is our own, as Keats suggests, because we recognize the truth and wisdom in it, as its ‘revelations’ transcend the personal and touch on the universally human. One can imagine that the first human utterances, chants, stories and prayers were all music and meaning.

In James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the young Stephen Dedalus is aware of “an unsubstantial image which his soul constantly beheld.” Ishmael in Moby Dick senses “the ungraspable phantom of life.” The Romantic poet, Shelley, spoke of “The everlasting universe of things which flows through the mind.” In “A Defence of Poetry” he writes, “A poem is the image of life expressed in its eternal truth.” Implied in all of these examples is the recognition of something that stands behind ordinary experience in the sense world, whose brilliance is felt and understood, yet is paradoxical and beyond definition. “A poem is the burning bow that once could shoot an arrow out of the up and down” (Yeats). The capacity of Imagination “sees” into and beyond that world into the "deep, deep well of the past," not only to our cultural/geographic roots, but, it can be argued, to our biological, psychological and even pre-historic origins (Campbell).

Imagination “subdues to union all irreconcilable things” (Shelley) and lifts the veil on a world often hidden to ordinary vision, which can become clouded by the intellect. The intellect categorizes, analyzes and separates. The imagination grasps the unseen and reveals the underlying patterns and forms which appear and reappear throughout the universe, nature and in the human being. It perceives those inherent relationships and similarities among things and unifies. It goes to the origins of things, which are the sources of inspiration, and the “sources of our strength” (Carson).

Behold the plant;
It is the butterfly
Held prisoner by the earth.

Behold the butterfly;
It is the plant
By the whole cosmos freed. (Rudolf Steiner)

For the true poet (and for us), insights like these are not simply ‘metaphors’ or mere ‘poetic devices’; they are revelations. They are realities to be recognized by the poetic "mind soul." Coleridge describes imagination as, “the living power and prime agent of all human perception in man’s infinite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite ‘I am’.”

Inspiration may seem fleeting, but can be trained. When poets are inspired, they are breathing in what they behold, whether it be a leaf, an insect or an idea radiating from within. They see, not with their eyes, but through their eyes, which Plato describes as the "windows of the soul." Therefore, they see with an extraordinary clarity. That which may appear distorted, common or uninteresting is transformed in the breathing out of the poet’s pen. The poet takes the “forms of things unknown” and “turns them into shapes and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name” (Shakespeare).

Intuition is a way of knowing what is true. It is “the intellect’s being where and what it sees.” We might think of it as what Emerson called "self-reliance," that is, an inherent trust in experience and the inner voice that says, “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string….The Eternal is stirring at our hearts, working through our hands, predominating in all our being." Poets are inspired, in touch with imagination and trust their intuition.

Though I mention Wonder last, it is the prerequisite capacity, without which the other capacities would not be as available. Wonder is an openness to beauty, goodness and truth, which we naturally have as children. When children are allowed and encouraged to experience beauty, they develop a sense of awe and reverence, which can not be taught. Look at a mountain peak; a blanket of stars in a dark sky; the "leaves of grass"; a child's shining face, "holding wonder like a cup" (Teasdale).

Conversely, an emerging sense of wonder can easily be crushed or thwarted if it is met with cynicism or negativity or other circumstances in a home or community. One can see its opposite in disrespect, a lack of sensibilities or in destructive tendencies and apathy, or just plain detachment from the immediacy, intimacy and impact of those sources of strength. Increasingly, all of these capacities are at risk of lying dormant with the use of and dependence on technology, which at the most basic, but essential level, separates or isolates children from the very experiences that can develop and build these capacities.

“Ah!” (an open vowel sound) emerges from us – in all languages – when we stand in awe and simply behold that which "is."  Something in us opens, fills a void, and may emerge in ways we could never have imagined--perhaps, as Wordworth suggests in his poem “Tintern Abby,” as "little unremembered acts of kindness of love," and for the poet (and us also as creators), as creations of beauty in all forms. The Greeks knew that wonder is the beginning of wisdom-- a foundation for creation of the beautiful. Dostoevsky went so far as to say that beauty would save the world, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” (Keats)

Poems that convey a sense of the “living Word,” must emerge from poets as prayer calling upon the capacities of Wonder, Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition. Whether or not we think of ourselves as artists, we can all be creators with an understanding, an appreciation and a practice toward development of these capacities.

Tribute and acknowledgement go to Christy MacKaye Barnes, a master Waldorf teacher of students and teachers, for some of the thoughts conveyed in “Poems and Prayers.” She was an inspirational mentor who freely shared and passed on her insights, knowledge and love of language to many.