Stirring the dust
It is mightly silent here in these dusty halls, usually swept clean by the dashing about of creative minds. So, while I am stirring a pot of stew in the kitchen I will relate a little excercise that might enflame your spirit — our drive you to the Gypsy Camp, which is all right too.
Several years ago I was substitute teaching an Honors English class with no clear assignments left undone save that they were used to daily writing in some form. So I gave them a story/riddle on which to write a pargraph or two — and we spend two days discussing the results as it drove to the heart of their perceptions of being prepared to meet life’s challenges.
The trails were well kept though little used – strange; and the course considered easy or difficult in ceaseless debate amongst the travelers, methinks more dependent on selection of foot-gear than else. So, the size of our group ebbed and waned in size and personality; never less than three nor more than eight, and each of us the better for the variety. Thus it was that when we came to a mountain crossroad a decision had to be made with no practiced structure or confidence upon which to rely. A pair of newly special friendship turned back – intending to focus on more important things, I suppose – leaving but four hikers to brave the unknown trails. A vote could not be taken as no majority was allowed, there being three paths from which to choose. As we were all of stalwart ego dimension and experience, simple math will extend that the opinions of action exceeded 36 – as factors of mind, heart and spirit had to blend with path and imagined goal. As a storm was pending it seemed unwise to pursue any rational evaluation of all options in a ‘guns and butter’ tradeoff, nor did playing at ‘scissor, paper, rock’ meet with approval. Yet, by some instinct little understood we knew that splitting up was not an option – “all or none at all” echoed in my soul.
Of course, I am not there at all – you are! What would you propose?