I had an interesting flight from Dallas to Newark. The man in the seat next to me is a postal mechanic from Newark who had been in Oklahoma City for training. He is a member of a team of mechanics that keep very large computer controlled mail and package sorting equipment in operation. The machine he works on has 13 different computers, hundreds of feet of conveyors, and mechanically operated gates. The machine understands hand written addresses and sorts them to go to the right places. It was interesting that this mechanic started out in our conversation describing the way people's learning is no longer based on personal observation, and that we are getting dumber by the minute because of it. I thought for a few minutes I was listening to myself.

It is always funny how those things happen.

I am in the Days Inn at 94th and Broadway, and I won't post a photo of the place. It is clean and close to Columbia University. This is one of those trips to New York where I won't visit my favorite places. I'll mention them and provide pictures. The first is Saint John the Divine Cathedral. It has been under construction for over 100 years. Construction has been delayed for some time as they recover from a disastrous fire. I hope that at some point stone carvers are set to work again towards its completion. Another project associated with St. John the Divine is a Textiles Conservation Laboratory in which textiles from around the world are restored. The important thing to consider is that those given the opportunity to engage in great works of hand and heart are lifted by their involvement to the heights of human value.

The two photos below are works from another New York City favorite place, the Cloisters.

You don't have to be associated with a particular religious faith to treasure the great works created for religious purpose. It is impossible for me as a craftsman to look at these works without seeing the dedication of attention of their makers to higher purpose and growth.

I was just telling my wife that I've heard from the agent interested in the Wisdom of the Hands that their review of the materials I sent may take another week or so. If they like it they will offer a contract and then attempt to sell the book to a publisher.

Jean was reflecting on the kinds of books she's seen in a similar format, usually a series of essays taking a view of scientific phenomena and building a broader framework of human philosophy and understanding from that view. As a librarian, she mentioned several examples.

I suggested that it might be interesting for some to see things from a craftsman's perspective. "It won't work," she said. "Those others were scientists... who would think a craftsman might have anything significant to say?" "Maybe you should call yourself a teacher. That might work. Or maybe you should call yourself an artist."

It is funny, that most makers of things (craftsmen) aren't suspected of having anything meaningful to say. People tend to think that those who aren't good with their heads must be skilled with their hands instead, and those who lack hand skills obviously have sufficient intellect to make up for it. The divide between hand skills and head skills provides justification for social class distinctions and income disparity. But they are wrong. Without the hand to test the waters of thought, you can go off the deep end and drown in your own idiocy while basking in the false glow of your misperceived intelligence. In other words, you can be stupid and not even know it.

The following thoughtful review of teachers is from Joe Barry, a former woodworking teacher:

I've been thinking about the teachers who I have admired and who became models for teaching.

In 7th grade I had a teacher who was extremely organized and pushed us to learn science at a level that allowed me to coast through college. He had an encyclopedic command of the material and set high standards. He communicated to us that he thought we were capable of performing at the required level and that he would not lower the bar.

My 9th grade history teacher encouraged me to read beyond the text book and the examine history in both the micro and macro perspectives and not just in the simplistic ways the text books dumbed it down to.

My high school cross country coach who never cut anyone from the team. If you showed up for practice every day you were a team member of the New England championship team even if all you offered the team was "depth"

There are two sergeants and one chief petty officer that I owe for showing me that 1. Responsibility can be given and lived up to; and 2. You can push yourself far beyond your perceived limits.

Two teachers in my undergraduate program in education that taught me that learning can be fun, self-directed and that mistakes are a natural part of the learning process. I learned that grades are only an indication of achievement and not a measure of worth or a competition between student and teacher. (The bell shaped curve is a horrible farce)

Three of the very patient Sensei's I have studied Aikido under have taught me that "beginner's mind" is the key to learning and success. To study the basics is to begin to master the advanced concepts.

I have tried to integrate these lessons in how I approached teaching so that I gave students responsibility, fun, challenging, and rewarding lessons.

Joe

Thanks Joe! One of the important things you bring up is the beginner's mind. It can be difficult to teach without some receptivity on the part of the student. One of the things I encounter is students saying, "I know that." One of the great things in the wood shop is that you can say, "Then show me." There is a difference between knowing something in the head, and knowing it in the hand and heart. And there is a difference between knowing something as a concept, and having the ability or skill to use what you know. If others want to contribute, please feel free to use the comment function on the site or send me an email using the link at right.

I may not be posting to the blog for a few days. We are in the last days of college selection and it has been narrowed down to two schools. I've cashed in frequent flyer miles and Lucy and I are flying to NYC for a quick visit to Columbia University. At this time of year, parents of smart girls all over the US are in a state of high anxiety. Thick envelopes convey congratulations. Thin ones tell either of rejection or the "wait-list." Society puts so much pressure on children to go to the right schools. The cost of an education has escalated to an enormous sum. Even with financial assistance, the amount of "expected parent contribution" can be staggering.

There was an article in the New York Times last week about the challenge facing smart young women in America. The mother of one 17 year old girl described the process as inducing "anorexia of the soul," and while I can't exactly understand what was meant by the term, the anxiety involved in making what seems to be a huge decision in Lucy's life has us all sleepless and stressed out.

It seems we all know things are twisted and yet it also seems that we are incapable of doing anything about it. For instance, a recent survey found that 70 percent of teachers thought that there was too much standardized testing disrupting normal classroom activities. Seventy percent of parents thought there wasn't enough. So, as I think I've stated before in the blog, we have become a nation of idiots.

If I get a chance to post between now and Tuesday, we will both be surprised. On Tuesday, the 1st through 4th grade students at Clear Spring will be making looms so they can do some weaving as a classroom activity. The parts are ready for sanding and assembly. Sometime in the next week or so, they will have results to share.

The following is from a book review on Amazon.com:

As a spiritually inspirational book for teachers, The Courage to Teach is one of the best. The premise is concise and unarguable: good teaching comes from the identity and the integrity of the teacher. Teachers are encouraged to turn their inquiring minds inward--developing a deeper understanding of what it means to fulfill the spiritual calling of teaching. Good teachers share one trait, says author Parker Palmer, they are able to weave a complex web of connections among themselves, their subjects, and their students, so that students can learn to weave a world for themselves. The connections made by good teachers are held not in their methods but in their hearts--the place where intellect and emotion and spirit and will converge in the human self. --Gail Hudson

Mario Nunez in Buffalo, NY was kind enough to respond with his observations of teachers. Mario is a teacher himself. He teaches computers for ESL students at Erie Community college and also saved the wood working program from elimination. He says:

"Now that was a tough question. There was my eighth grade teacher (Portland, Oregon), a nun who had us all compose the Christmas music for a class project, rather than just play the usual stuff. A biology teacher in 10th grade (Moscow, Idaho) who told me I was in charge of the class hamster. A physics teacher in 12th grade (Buffalo) who made science seem like fun, doing things like bringing a Slinkie to class to teach wave motion. He ended up being my son Raul's physics teacher toward the end of his career.

What has made the job of teaching easier for me, and I suspect easier for the students, has been my absolute refusal to take myself too seriously, to ever believe that I am somehow important *because* I'm a teacher. And I try to do what the teachers I remembered did for me, which was to reach out, to communicate, to take an interest. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I do it well and sometimes I don't."

I think Mario has given some good pointers for effective teaching: Stretch things beyond the usual stuff, making it fun. Challenge your students with responsibility. Maintain a sense of humor. Reach out and take an interest in students. "Try" is a magic word, because we know that things don't always work. As The Courage To Teach by Parker Palmer suggests, there is no perfect teacher. Each may have days that leave him or her feeling much less than adequate, and days when for incomprehensible causes, things just work. Thanks Mario.

The photo above is of Mario at work as my teaching assistant in a box making class at Arrowmont in 2002. That brings up another important quality found in good teachers. They never get tired of learning.

In the wood shop today at Clear Spring School, the 7th and 8th graders worked on canes to give to the needy at our local free medical clinic. At left is Reid, doing the final sanding on his cane. Also at left is Dylan, putting the finishing touches on his archery bow. The limbs for the bow were vacuum laminated using Roarockit Skateboard laminating kits.

I'm going to ask my small group of readers to share a bit with others on the blog. You can send your notes to me, or leave them using the comments function. You can email me directly through the link at right or click the comments link below. The questions are: Who was your favorite teacher and why? What qualities did he or she bring to the job of teaching that made him or her stand out? Was that teacher in school, or before or after?

This may be a bust. Who knows whether there will be anyone in the small group of readers willing to take time to respond. Or it may be too much! I have so many teachers in and out of school that could be discussed at length. They were all different. There seems to be no exacting formula. One thing I did notice was that they did let me know very clearly that they cared deeply me and my life and about something the regarded as important in theirs.

Mrs. Mummert was my 6th grade teacher. I moved with my family to Omaha, Nebraska when my father was transfered by the company he worked for. I had a thick southern accent, having grown up to that point in Memphis, Tennessee and deep southern Mississippi, so it was a challenge to fit in. Omaha is that place on earth where the English language is spoken without distinct accent. Mrs. Mummert noticed that I could write. She encouraged me to think of myself as a skilled writer and encouraged my mother to see my abilities. I don't have a clear mental image of her, but I know that her presence left a very strong imprint on my life. Anyone dare to go next? I think we can narrow down in a very short time the qualities most important for effective teaching. I'm curious also if we can draw a clear link to the hands.

Here are a few of the things teachers are expected to do: Plan activities for students in advance, written as lesson plans that can be followed by substitutes in the event of their absence. Deliver those lessons. Prepare tests and other means of measuring performance, then submit reports on student performance. Protect the students from harm, injury, hurt feelings, bullying, and the consequences of poor judgment. Serve as a role model for reasonable (if not inspirational) adult behavior.

Some of these tasks are administrative, and some involve actual delivery of instruction. Some teachers are good at the administrative end, and may not be so hot in the rest of it. Some teachers are energetic, creative and enthusiastic with a classroom of students, conveying a great love of learning, and may be faulty at their administrative duties.

Are familiar with the Myers-Briggs personality index? It provides insight into personality types and is useful in developing greater understanding of ourselves and each other. If you place credence in such things your realize that it takes a variety of personality types to make the world work and to make our civilization interesting and successful. From an administrative standpoint, the best teachers are the ones who get their grades in on time and fulfill their administrative duties on time and without complaint. From the standpoint of a student, looking for excitement, enthusiasm and engagement in learning, the best teacher may be someone else, entirely.

Just as all teachers are different, most teaching environments are different as well. Some have a higher tolerance than others for a creative curriculum that may risk occasional disruption or even failure. How about teaching the kids to carve with knives? That would create panic in most schools.

If you look at schools in a simplistic manner, you might see them as roughly spaced along a line stretching from cold administrative order to an extreme of creativity bordering on chaos. Along that line, most schools are clustered tightly at the cold end. There is little room in those schools for the kinds of teachers who come to school unprepared, but fully engaged through their creative imaginations to motivate, inspire, and model the kinds of enthusiastic engagement that students will need to live inspired lives.

I became interested in Myers-Briggs when I went through a episode of depression and sought help from a therapist. I have a tendency to live my life on the edge of creative chaos and I'm married to a librarian. One of my wife's major talents is to push chaos into the far reaches of life. Do you know about the Dewey Decimal System?

One of the things you learn from Myers-Briggs is that we are different within a range and that we have different strengths and what I'm hesitant to call weaknesses. They are natural to us and are part of what makes humanity interesting and diverse. Allowance for diversity energizes the school environment. It makes a school more like real life and opens the doors for real life to become a much greater part of the learning experience.

My point here is to speak on behalf of the messy artist type (no that is not one of the named Myers-Briggs types). Messy artists enliven the school atmosphere, infect the children with creative notions and confidence. They may not be the best at getting report cards done on time. They may seem scattered and ill prepared. They may push buttons and push limits. But make way, remember Myers-Briggs and let yourself be surprised by the results... Having been a part of Clear Spring School, I can tell you what happens. The students love learning, and love of learning travels with them as they move through life.

Joe Novak had asked that I post some comments for students, but I would also like to post some comments for teachers. Teachers come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. Some people are even teachers without knowing it. I'm reminded of a friend's father, who at the age of 92 would go out to the yard and exchange his walker for the lawn mower. He needed something to keep from losing his balance, but he wasn't going to give up on caring for his lawn. He taught countless others through his example. In fact, some regarded him as an inspiration.

There are many factors involved in teaching, and while some administrators and politicians would like to think of teachers as one size fits all and easily adaptable to the delivery of a scripted and rigidly controlled curriculum, each teacher is in fact unique. Each comes to the job with life-learned skills, interests and expectations. Each has a deeply ingrained personality type which will make him or her better at certain jobs than others. The diversity of teaching styles and personality types can make a more creative and meaningful school life, and have greater potential to serve a wide range of students. A good school will help to engage students in more than just books, passing tests and getting on to college or a career. It should interest and empower them to become citizens capable of understanding diverse personalities, and help create in them a better understanding of themselves.

Tomorrow, or later today, I hope to go discuss some of the various aspects of teaching, and the diverse and important qualities that teachers bring to their schools.

I feel a deep sense of gratitude to a friend in Sweden, Hans Thorbjörnsson, who is the curator of Otto Salomon's letters and library in Nääs, Sweden. We began corresponding in late 2001, and he was my host when I visited in Nääs last May. He has been a wonderful resource in helping me to gain a better understanding of Educational Sloyd. The following is from personal correspondence from Hans:

Otto Salomon and the knife:
80 percent of the Swedish people were living in the countryside about 1880, mostly farmers or farm workers and their families. Almost every farmer and worker wore a knife and used it daily. The boys took part in the farm work from 8-10 years of age, going to school a few hours a day or every other day. Even these young boys used the knife in a natural way; they could handle it and were seldom injured. Of course Salomon was aware of this – and he is using this knowledge already in his early articles and books. (And he knew that the knife was the most common and most important tool of homesloyd.)

It was an old tradition in Swedish farm homes sitting around the stove making utensils to be used in the kitchen or the farm work. This tradition was weakened from about 1860 (the growing industry made these utensils faster and cheaper) – perhaps the most important reason why sloyd was introduced in the elementary school (the “folkskola”).

Translated from ”Om slöjden såsom uppfostringsmedel” i Ur vår tids forskning, 1884. p. 86-87
(The knife) can be looked upon as the fundamental tool in Sloyd, especially as its usefulness is so manifold. With the knife alone many pieces of work can be completed. The knife is so easy to obtain and convenient to carry. From simple objects made with a knife, it is advisable to proceed to more difficult works through step by step introduction of new tools, new hand-operations, new kinds of joints, woods more difficult to work, and more complicated shapes.”

Salomon was very fond of quoting the Norwegian Christian Jacobsen from his book I slöidsagen. Et indlaeg (Oslo ,1892) (not an exact translation)

When using the knife the child is learning to use the muscles of the hand and the forearm with elastic capacity (proficiency?). The child learns to plan in advance the form he is going to bring about. The knife demands total attention and permits no mechanical work. Furthermore the knife can produce – unlike the plane as an example – curved surfaces in form work. This makes the knife superior when it comes to development of sense of form and beauty.

I realize that knives aren't allowed in most schools, and even during the early days of Sloyd, knives were controversial outside Sweden. It is a shame, though that instead of allowing children to know it as a useful and creative tool, Hollywood and the gaming industry implant images in children's minds of dreadful things. Students of today would do better for themselves and their development by putting down the video and computer games that occupy their spare time and picking up a knife. Learn to whittle and carve. You will learn more about wood and its interesting qualities with a knife than with any power tool. You will need to learn to keep it sharp, but you will never need batteries. The photo above and below is of sloyd knives I bought in flea markets in Sweden. Both were made in Mora, a city still famous for its knives.

Making Crooked Knives

This article first appeared in the April 2006 Woodwork Magazine No. 98

Crooked knives are small knives with bent blades, handy for hollowing spoons or other small wooden items. I first became familiar with crooked knives when I attended a yurt-building workshop taught by Bill Coperthwaite from Maine. Bill, who is head of the Yurt Institute has been actively involved in education for many years, teaching yurt building but also sharing a philosophy of life based on voluntary simplicity, profound respect for human cultures and passionate regard for nature. I noticed during the workshop that whenever Bill wasn’t busy sawing or actively instructing the work of others, and whenever there was a pause for conversation, Bill was busy carving something in his hands. When I asked what he was doing, he showed me a small precisely carved spoon he was making from a persimmon branch and the small crooked knife he was using to hollow its bowl. He explained that many native cultures had a version of the crooked knife and that his travels and studies had led him to the far north where he learned to make crooked knives from an Eskimo boat maker.

Inspired by Bill’s crooked knives, we made knives at Clear Spring School, but we made them out of solid scrap blanks of tool steel given me by a plane maker friend and while they turned out well, they also were time consuming and complicated to make. In the fall of 2004, I attended a New England Association of Woodworking Teachers meeting at Moses Brown School in Providence Rhode Island. Among the activities planned for the meeting, was making crooked knives. Having some prior experience in making and using crooked knives; I looked forward to the chance to see how another teacher would approach this challenge. It was an activity I really didn’t want to miss.

Ironically, Bob Elliot, middle school shop teacher at Moses Brown had also learned about crooked knives from Bill Coperthwaite, but he had obviously paid more attention to his lessons. The simplicity of his design allowed all the teachers to make knives and begin carving in less than an hour. This inspired me to once again involve my students in the making of knives, but using the additional knowledge gained from Bob. While Bob Elliot used an old hand saw as a source for the blade stock, At Clear Spring, we used an old 1” wide band saw blade with the teeth dulled on the belt sander, and while we used thin bungee cord to wrap the knives in Providence, at Clear Spring we used leather scraps. While our crooked knives were not as beautiful as the one I first saw in Bill Coperthwaite’s hand, ours, being made from a worn out band saw blade by students who then turned them to the carving of wood, carried a sense of practical beauty that I’m sure Bill will understand.

You can learn more about Bill Coperthwaite from his book, A Handmade Life

Today was a busy day at the Eureka Springs Post Office for the Stowe family. Lucy got an acceptance packet from Wesleyan in Connecticut. It is a good school. Not her top choice, but it is nice to know that there are others who recognize the value of her hard work. It is one more important bit of information that will bring Lucy closer to a final decision.

I got a contract in the mail for an article in Fine Woodworking. I wrote it last week and most of the photography was done last month when editor, Tom Begnal was here.

I got royalty statements from Taunton for my books and DVD. It is nice to see that things are selling, making them money, (and me money) and that I will have a check coming.

The 4th good thing was a flyer from the Woodworker's Book Club which I've scanned as an image above. It shows my new book and DVD as the main selection. This will be great for sales. The book and DVD are listed together for a package price of $29.95 and if you send in your payment at the time the order is placed, shipping is free.

I spent the evening cheering for Lucy's soccer team. It is one sport where you are penalized for using your hands and your head is used mainly as a blunt instrument for bashing the ball. Is there something to be discovered in this?

When you work with cherry, you will find that it burns very easily from just a bit too much friction. Like many fruit woods, it has a high sugar content, and the sugars carmelize when exposed to heat. Even a very sharp router bit can cause burn if the speed isn't just right, or if it lingers too long in one spot, and it is a particular problem on end grain where it is hardest to sand.

I've been working this morning on custom cherry pulls for some bathroom cabinets. To make them, I used a combination of techniques on the table saw and router table, and now I'm down to the hard part... sanding the burn. I tried hand sanding with sand paper wrapped around a dowel. It was taking far too long. I finally had to re-rout for a cleaner surface and then set up with a sandpaper wrapped dowel in the drill press. And this is just step one. They will have to be sanded again after being firmly attached to the drawers.

Much of the pleasure I find in woodworking is the discovery of new ways to do old things, and nearly every piece of furniture I've made has challenged my creativity and led to the refinement of techniques toward greater efficiency and quality.

So today as in most days, I get to do things I've never done before. I learned years ago that things don't always go right, but never wrong enough that I can't fix them or start over. When I discover new things, I remember them, refine them and at some point am able to use them to teach others. It can be frustrating at times, but frustration beats boredom, hands down.

The photo above is of the cherry drawer pulls.

Heaven and Hell

There was a samurai who asked his master, "What is the difference between heaven and hell?" The master took the samurai’s sword, turned it to the flat of the blade, and struck the samurai on the head. The samurai was surprised at this but chose to ignore it. He thought that the master had failed to understand his question. He again asked, "What is the difference between heaven and hell?" Again the master struck the samurai on the head. The samurai staggered back puzzled over this. He approached with his question for a third time and before he could utter a word, the master struck him again. The samurai was so enraged that he grabbed his sword from the master, raised it over his head and was prepared to strike when the master raised one finger and the samurai paused.

"That is hell," said the master.

The samurai was overcome by the courage of this frail old man - to have risked his life for the sake of his question - that he fell to his knees and bowed before the master.

"That is heaven," said the master.

Make a fist. Are you ready to protect your home or your honor? Do you sense a change in yourself as your fingers curl and tighten into a hard object, useful for striking, hammering and nothing more? Now, extend your hand open and outward, palm upwards. Do you feel as if you might receive a gift? There are energies flowing in the hands that some are sensitive to and that some are not. The Chinese call these energies Chi and the energies and what we choose to do with them defines us as human beings.

Geoffrey Canada, founder of the Harlem Children's Zone, wrote a book called Fist Stick Knife Gun. about the way these objects impact our relationship to ourselves, our communities, and lead the tragic escalation of violence in America. Canada's book is relevant to the earlier discussion of the impact of our choice of tools on our essential human qualities.

Can you see how our choice of tools may define us? This is a complex subject that enters into the essence of our humanity. There are tools that scream of expedience, and even anger, that leave tragic markings. They may be large tools with no sensitivity to the earth or the wild and precious things that the thoughtful gardener, armed only with a trowel would notice, cherish and preserve. There are tools that deliver violence whether on purpose or by grave mistake. The wisdom of the hands calls us to take notice and make choices. Through very simple choices, we, through the use of our hands re-create ourselves for greater purpose.

Tools are instruments by which the hands give expression to thought. - Gustaf Larsson

If you begin looking at tools, you will notice they come in all sizes. I have a friend Arlie who has the big ones. If you need to move a mountain of dirt, call Arlie. He has large trucks, back hoes, track hoes, cranes, bulldozers and a very large road grader. He is an expert in the use of each, and can do some really amazing and rather sensitive work with his tools. If his tools aren't large enough or powerful enough, he knows how to use dynamite. But please don't invite Arlie to your flower garden. The results would be disastrous. Even his smallest back hoe takes too large a bite.

It has been said that every tool leaves it mark. This is true until more subtle tools remove the marks of those used before. If you cut an edge with the band saw, the markings are rough. A hand plane will remove those marks and leave more subtle markings of its own. A table saw will leave markings on the edge of the wood. A sanding block will remove those, and by moving through a progression of sanding grits, the markings are reduced to microscopic proportions. Pretty obvious, right? We move in a progression of tools from coarse to fine, each in turn to "give expression to thought."

There are more subtle things going on at the same time. It is obvious that the man uses the tool to shape the wood. It may be less obvious that the tool shapes the man. If you want to check this out, buy a back hoe. You can find a good one for about $80,000. Spend enough time on it to get good at its operation. You will find yourself digging ditches and foundations to offset the capital investment. You will be very busy. Take care of business and treat people with respect and like my friend Arlie, you will be respected in your community. But people won't ask you to garden.

Tomorrow, or later today, I hope to talk about chisels and the hand.

At this moment, I'm at the new library in Fayetteville, Arkansas. This is my first visit and it is a beautiful facility. I brought my laptop and am logged in to the wireless system.

There are wonderful things that being married and having a family bring to a guy. First off, I married into a love of libraries. My wife Jean has been the director of our Carnegie Library for many years, and is now both director of that library and director of the two county library system. So, while the Fayetteville library is kind of a cold, new place in comparison with our very much loved and incomparable Carnegie in Eureka Springs, it is a library, and libraries are the best man-made places on earth.

I came to Fayetteville this morning because this is one of the last trips I'll make as a "ballet dad." I'm a "soccer dad," too, but my daughter Lucy has been a dancer from the time she was three and demonstrated for me how she could spell her name by moving quickly, shape to shape through the letters of her name. We have logged thousands of car miles taking Lucy to lessons in Berryville, Fayetteville and Rogers as she has moved through a progression of teachers and performances. Today I am here as Lucy has her dress rehearsal. The performances are tonight and tomorrow.

I guess I should be talking today about the "wisdom of the feet." Or maybe I should be talking about "the wisdom of the body," as described in poetry by former United States Poet Laureate Stanley Kunitz. It was Stanley Kunitz's writings that led me to the title of our Wisdom of the Hands program at Clear Spring School.

Kunitz once said poems are "born of the wisdom of the body." And he deliberately kept his tools simple. Physical. Pencils, paper and an old manual typewriter. "I usually start with notes and keep pushing ahead in my notebook, working with pencil or pen," he said. "And at a certain point when I feel the poem is beginning to roll, I turn to my trusty old Hermes 3000 and I start to type."

We hear so much about the brain these days. There is a great deal of excitement as researchers are enabled for the first time to view the inner workings of this mysterious organ.

But it is always a mistake to look too closely at the parts without the essential understanding of the whole. I am reminded of some of my first efforts at investigating the mechanical world. When I was 4 or 5 years old and for several years after, my father would give me anything that stopped working, along with a screw driver and whatever wrenches were required to take it apart. I found great pleasure in the discovery of the inner workings of things, in the same way that scientists now are discovering the inner workings of the human brain. My own enthusiasm got the best of me when I decided to take my sister's sewing machine apart. I wanted to see how it worked and what was going on inside, but not having any knowledge of the whole of it, my efforts had a devastating outcome. I couldn't for the life of me put the darned thing back together so that it would work.

Have you been to car dealers to look at the latest models? They are burying the working parts under shrouds of plastic, barring the consumer from the discovery of complexity and depriving him or her from even a glimpse of the inner workings of the machine. The effort, no doubt, is to give the buyer a sense of simplicity. Simplicity can be re-assuring in a complex world. But, in the meantime, we are building a world of simpletons... mechanical morons who have no sense of the inner workings of things, and who lack confidence in their abilities to take apart, to fix and maintain and are doomed to the endless cycle of unsustainable earth-wracking consumption.

There is something wonderful about ballet. It engages the feet and the hands and the body in the creation of form and movement that uplifts the spirit. I have to say that Lucy's love of ballet opened that world for me. Today, she is performing a dance choreographed by her favorite ballet teacher. It is a simple story told on stage of a simpler time. Having seen it in the past, I can hardly write this moment without the tears forming in my eyes from the remembrance of incredible beauty. I will get to see it again this evening, and then again tomorrow afternoon. The brain is a wonderful organ, but it is nothing without the body, and the brain without the dance of the heart, or the wisdom of the hand might just as well be pickled in a jar. It is what Stanley Kunitz brings to mind in the Wisdom of the Body, and what I hope comes to mind in your reading of this blog.

My time as a ballet dad is drawing to a close. I am thankful to have had one more chance to bring Lucy to her dance... I am thankful also to be sitting in the Fayetteville Public library, watching the Saturday morning parade of fathers, mothers, daughters and sons in their weekly pilgrimage to the joy of reading. What the heart desires, the feet proceed toward without a moment of hesitation. As I close here on my laptop, my fingers still on the keys, I observe through the corners of my eyes the parade of feet. Large and small, driven by the heart toward the engagement of the mind and spirit. Do we call it wisdom, or knowledge, or wisdom of the feet? Or of the whole person... Mr. Kunitz' wisdom of the body? Is it all covered by a plastic shroud, beyond the comprehension of the human spirit? I'll just sit here and watch a few moments more. If I discover something, I'll let you know. The photo above is our Carnegie Public Library in Eureka Springs.

Just a bit more for students...It is interesting that young men and women will spend hours practicing their free throws. There is a meditative quality to dribbling the ball, aligning the posture and putting the ball through the hoop. It feels good even if you aren't part of a team. If you are on a team you may work extra hard preparing for the game, knowing that you wouldn't want to let the team down in a close one, and knowing that the cheers of the crowd would feel great if you sink it.

It may seem a stretch to compare basketball with the hours spent in the wood shop developing skill to do beautiful work. But the interior mental "zone" is the same. The state of "flow" is the same. You know in the wood shop when you sink it. There are rim shots and swishers, and some shots that miss. The thing you don't have is the crowd. Those who appreciate your work the most will do so when you aren't around. They may enjoy it in the privacy of their homes, when a detail or a surface catches the attention of a hand or eye. In basketball, when the game is over and your team has won or lost, the cheering or sadness fades quickly.

When you make something out of wood, if it is beautifully made, and useful enough to gain a sheltered place in someone's home, it will last for generations. Long after the game has passed, and even after the players have gone from the earth, the well crafted object will live on and carry with it, the attention and devotion of its maker. What you make in the wood shop can be an expression of your highest aspirations and abilities and be treasured far beyond your own times. You may never hear the applause. You may never even know those who most treasure your work. But that should never stop you from taking the shot.

The photo above is of a redbud taken this morning in the woods outside my home.