Cheerful. Fabulously indulgent easter weekend of drinking, eating crap and playing and singing with the very talented Plain Joe Smith - and a truly fantastic discovery of a regular folkie circle in the cleethorpes pub, the Nottingham. This was begun by Dave Wagstaff (see video below of one of the great songs he played), who just felt that it would be great if a group of open-minded people might sing and play together over the course of a day and evening, so he set it up. And I was in company also with friends from brum and the best of my family, my nephew Phil, and I REALLY enjoyed playing for such a welcoming audience.
Still, it was also very nice indeed to wake up without a hangover on wednesday, too...
Cheerful. I tried to get somebody to come and sort out dad's garden a little better this year. I love and appreciate the beauty of nature and of human handiwork therein, but don't have much idea how to go about it myself, and need to prioritise my writing. So, I tried two or three possible avenues for help, but it didn't work out. So, my punk fuck-it attitude kicked in and I just went out there and did what I felt should be done in my guts. If it ain't perfect, then that's closer to nature anyway. So, I got hold of dad's seed stock and planted vegetables and flowers both. And 'watered them in'. I've made a little bit of 'work' on a daily basis, watering, which should ideally be done in the morning, whilst the heat of the day is not strong and the plants can feel the water run down to their roots. Look at me, I'm flying! Wheeeee! I'm actually real excited to see how they grow...
Another chapter of Freedom to Learn summarised - I found the chapter a little dry, the writing was methodical in the manner of the scientist that wrote it, perhaps. However, I also think it is an important chapter in the whole spectrum of person-centred education, as it does show, as Rogers points out, that person-centred education is not just for the softie subjects.
And I finally get to bid Mr Thoreau adieu. The end of Walden is a meditation about the deeper meaning of his experimental time in the woods. By the end, I was ready to let go of him, just as he was ready to leave the woods and let go very easily simply by recognising that it was the right time. He encourages his readers to go out and make our own lives newer, finer. Pre-empting Aldous Huxley and the the inner explorers of the 1960s, he talks of exploring our own interior 'dark continent', as well as letting go of the paralysing past, and fight, evade, resist the deadness of conformity:
Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.I keep you with me as I let you go, Mr Thoreau, as I walk onwards, walk forwards into the sunshine of the future:
Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.