The Warthog School's Loving Kindness Committee: Celebrating World Kindness Day

We've been working with a wonderful gratitude curriculum from The Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley and decided to infuse the power of gratitude into our first acts of kindness this morning - love notes.

When the children awoke, the first things that they saw were stacks of photographs waiting for them on the table.  Some were recent, some were a few years old, and all documented the same thing in different ways: a memory of time spent well with loved ones.

It is not an exaggeration to say that it was a bit like Christmas morning here.  The photos were obviously gifts to them.  I saw emotions play across their faces that were almost unbelievable.  The pictures were so evocative.  They created surprise, awe, silly laughter, longing, warmth...  Some friends in the photographs they hadn't seen in years and the stories of longing and appreciation began flowing out with their emotions.  They grabbed glue and pen and began to tell each person why they are so special. 

It was a moment in which I wished that our committee meeting had been convening right in a classroom at Berkeley. I wished that all of the wonderful people, who have dedicated themselves to the purpose of teaching others that happiness, and gratitude, and kindness are real, important, and can be cultivated, could see the children in action.  Especially the moment in which E.P., who is known to wake up with what he has come to describe as "pushinitus" (the need to resist, negate, act out, and emotionally and physically push against everyone and everything possible), whimsically danced away from the morning work table with eight cards completed.  "Mom, wanna know something amazing?  Just doing that project made me feel SUPER happy."  There was a resounding "I LOVED that project" in the room.  Myself included.

So simple, so powerful is kindness.

We spent the rest of the morning project time making rice crispy treat hearts that could be given out the rest of our day to whomever we thought could use one.  We talked about our favorite picture book from early childhood "The Giant Hug" by Sandra Horning and brainstormed future acts of kindness for our Loving Kindness Committee meetings.

We practiced writing, from the heart.  We practiced writing a proper envelope.  We practiced modifying recipes and measurements.  We gained an understanding of geography according to where our hearts are tethered on the globe.  We found a use for all of those countless photographs that we are taking at a daily rate now.  What are we all so feverishly documenting?  And, why?  We found our answer today.  We are documenting the abundance of love, kindness, and beauty in our lives so that we may savor and share it often.

If you were a recipient of a random act of kindness, or the mastermind behind gifting one, we would love to hear about what you did in our comments section.  It will inspire us and others.  Kindness truly is contagious. 

Wild Child Wednesdays: The river speaks to us, so in turn, we speak for the river.

Part 1: The river speaks to us.

E.P.'s school year kicked off with some spontaneous and incredible travel opportunities - so it wasn't until the first Wednesday of October that we had a chance to settle into the "home" part of our schooling.  We've traded backyards this year, rather than Moran State Park on Orcas Island we are spending the third grade exploring The Deschutes National Forest just outside of Bend, Oregon.  It was time for us to go wild and in search of our third grade outdoor classroom.

Knowing that proximity promises consistency when it comes to visiting one's sit spot and/or nature classroom we limited our exploring to just a volcanic stone's throw away from our small home.  Down the dusty feeder trail we stopped where our hillside meets The Deschutes River Trail.  E.P. found  a "perfect perch" for observation positioned close to a broad fallen Douglas Fir that needed no more carving than what nature had already provided to serve as his desk. 

We sat in the noon day sun with The Tree That Time Built and read about the importance of being a curious and diligent collector in one's youth like Darwin.  We explored how poets and scientists are alike.  E.P. listened while looking about and I could see when his directed attention was strained.  Class dismissed.  He grabbed a stick and headed for the land bridge to Lava Island while I sketched.  I marveled at how many different birds I could hear and how long E.P. was silent.

"Mom this is REALLY worth trying, you must come over here and do it."  

He was leaning over the mouth of a steel drainage pipe observing the current of an otherwise sedated area of the river as it suddenly quickened to escape.  Dry, light, green plant granuales had clumped together in varying sizes and he was "exploding them" with his stick tip as they sped toward him.  We were both under a spell of entrainment.  E.P. was hypervigilant (not one green clump skated past his stick) yet simultaneously he was totally relaxed.  I was in awe of what I was witnessing; Galaga, the old 80's arcade game, being played outside of the box.  The river was the screen, the green clusters were the alien ships and the branch was his avatar.

Galaga is one of the few video games we've allowed E.P. to play occasionally.  On Orcas Island he would beg for quarters and a quick stop at the White Horse Pub to play whenever I pulled through town.  Quarters helped me keep an easy limit for him.  "Here's a dollar, go get change, I'll pick you up in 10 minutes."  

Homeschooling has helped us stave off the full brunt of media saturated boy culture and still our weeks are full of questions from E.P. about screen time, media and our family rules and values.  I am officially the worst mother ever because he is the only kid he knows (besides his sister) who hasn't seen Star Wars.  The most challenging topic for us as a family is video games.

I've looked for help in all directions when it comes to video games and ADHD.  I've found some articles that claim they are actually helpful and some that says they are outright dangerous for the ADHD brain.  All I really know about video games is what I've observed with my own child.  They are POWERFUL.  Some of the greatest emotional disregulation I've seen with E.P. has come from playing video games.  Some of his greatest experiences of absorption has come from video games and therefore, some of his greatest experiences of desire have too.  Having worked for a decade in the field of addiction recovery my senses seem ever piqued to pick up on unhealthy relationships with both substances and processes.  The first time we allowed E.P. to try a modern video game on a smartphone, one loaded with the ability to purchase more power and position for faster ascension through the level system, was a truly sad and scary experience.  One that had to be ended in a fast intervention followed by cold turkey.  It only took about three days from him trying the game once to it becoming an obsession that was fast on its way to destroying balance, happiness, peace, and many other aspects of our family life that we value so much.

What was really hard was watching him grapple with the fact that strawberries might not be his only allergy.  He was heartbroken to hear that even though other kids might play this game he was having an adverse reaction to it. I always thought what we had to worry about were the games that normalize death and destruction and violence - this was just a car racing game.

The more I observed, however, the more I wondered if "just a car racing game", one with built in consumption of power and position, wasn't itself a training ground for destruction and violence.  E.P. tends to be the canary in a coal mine when it comes to what is toxic in our culture and aiding the destruction of his home.  It seems that his ADHD differences provide him with a certain set of imperative skills that the will need to have in tact for the environmental crisis that he is inheriting.  Florence Williams covers the wonderful adventure based gifts that the ADHD child brings to the world in her article "ADHD is Fuel for Adventure".  E.P. has the qualities that she heralds in spades and the one that tends to surprise me the most is his allergy-like sensitivity for activities that contribute to the destruction of our planet.

E.P. finding flow state in nature's version of Galaga validated what I've decided (for now) about video games and our son - it isn't the process that I need to be wary of but rather the purpose.  And in fact, the process of gamifying daily life, what Eric Barker outlines as WNGF in his book Barking Up The Wrong Tree, is one of the most helpful discoveries I've made regarding our homeschooling.  When applied, this four step process of "gamifying" our adventures in education has not once failed me.  We charm E.P's most challenging tasks with the magic of being Winnable while containing Novel challenges, Goals and Feedback.  My hair stays on my head rather than in clenched fists on those days.  More importantly E.P. finishes the day delightfully sated both intellectually and emotionally.

Boiled down to a one line spell the essence of game magic is, "Last one back to the house is a rotten egg!"  Most exasperated parents have had the experience of invoking those words, or something similar, in a moment of kid chaos.  Distracted unruly children are suddenly on task and giving their best for a simple, if not silly, goal.  Turns out it is as super natural as it seems.  It's how we humans are programmed to thrive and succeed, especially the ADHD version of our software.  The trick is getting and staying ahead of the game.  Quite literally.  A feat that is not easy when you are keeping up, full time, with a child that runs on "fuel for adventure." Thankfully our time in nature each day provides me with brief moments of rest and reflection.

As I sat watching E.P. play primitive Galaga that first Wednesday of October the river spoke a few pieces to me about gaming that I was yet to glean from my research and reading.  The river taught me about what I find to be the most challenging aspect of games  - competition. The river provided E.P. with an endless parade of targets yet had no agenda.  I watched E.P. fill in the lack of programming by self-imposing his own goals.  Once the feeling of flow and gratification flooded him he enlisted opponents (me) with an intention of sharing something "super cool" rather than having someone to beat.  There was a "leaderboard" in his mind but it felt like he was experiencing the power of dominion rather than the power of domination. He had the attitude of, "This is SO much fun, let me show you how to get some of this enjoyment for yourself." rather than, "This is so much fun because I am crushing you."  From the power of dominion our experience became naturally collaborative and even cooperative at points.  "Let's band together and get as many as we can in the next 10 seconds."  "You go for the biggest and I'll go for the fastest."  It wasn't a one pointed mission of, "Be the one who destroys the most."   It was a much richer experience that had the power to keep us "in the flow" much longer.   I took home from the river that day what I couldn't have understood from a book.  And so did E.P. in his own way.

Part 2: So, in turn, we speak for the river.

When we returned to our outdoor classroom the following week for our "Wild Child Wednesday" we stopped cold in our tracks.

The river was gone.

We were silent.  We were in disbelief.  E.P. ventured out first to explore the newly exposed rocks and silt.  It smelled minerally and felt wrong.  We saw a woman squatting over tiny puddles left between rocks.

I broke our silence with "Are we imagining it, or did the river just vanish?"

"Yes. Yes, it did.  They turned it off."

It took us a minute to get past the mechanical, clinical language attached to such a shocking act.

"Turned it off?" E.P. echoed.

"Yep, they do it this time every year."  She was serious and heavy with the explanation.  "They lower the water flow from Wickiup Dam to 100 cfs every October and this part of the river by Lava Island dries up.  The fish that are left here by the suddenly flow change are stranded and will die."

E.P. was horrified, as was I, if not for varying reasons.  I saw his eyes wide with the thoughts of gasping fish while I was processing that a teacher that we had only just met had been decapitated according to a calendar date.

She immediately invited us to return the next day with a bucket to help.
"We do an annual fish salvage.  You have to just grab them, get them in buckets and we will get them back to the river."

E.P. was on fire.  "Oh Mom, we HAVE to."

It was a game.  It was novel.  It had a SUPER important goal.  It's feedback registered on the scales of life and death.  He was IN.

Funny to think that for a moment the mother in me overpowered the teacher as I first pondered if it was too graphic for him.  I imagined the gasping fish and E.P. faced with the reality that they couldn't all be saved no matter how hard we worked.  It wasn't going to be winnable.  "It's not a long term solution," our new teacher shared, "we don't save them all but the rest of the year we work in other ways to try to raise awareness to the problem and help regulate the flow for the future."  She handed us her card.  She was the co-founder of the Coalition for the Deschutes and her card read, "We speak for the river."

With the voice of the river gone so suddenly, that statement was comfort even if it was cold, dry comfort.

As we walked back up the feeder trail home E.P. was non-stop chatter with thoughts and questions.  I mumbled enough in response for him to keep going.  He had a mission.  He was going home to get a good nights sleep because he had to be a hero come next daybreak.

I stayed back processing.

"I was right," I thought to myself, "they aren't 'just car racing games' - not the way they are designed these days."

The river had told me just before she lost her position on the leader board and faded, if not for a season, into obscurity.


Update: We returned for the fish salvage the following October. This story continues here.

Loose Leaf Kitchen: Nootka Rose Ice Cream for The Honey Moon

The Honey Moon brought with it two wild treats to the island.  As the new moon dawned at the end of May the first Nootka Rose buds unfurled into the first dry dusted days of a San Juan summer.  

Five heart shaped petals unfurl from each tiny bud and linger a few days before being taken by the wind, spring rain, or our grateful fingers.

Nootka Rose infused food is a five senses feast.  The feeling on one's finger tips as the petals are pulled free is impossibly soft.  Not only is the process simple it is relaxing (note: E.P. is sitting).

World Oceans Day - June 8, 2017

This year's World Oceans Day was themed "Our Ocean's Our Future."  E.P., Baanko, and I watched an incredible documentary from the BBC called "The Ocean and Us".  It left us inspired that when it comes to the oceans there is still time and hope.  It also left us haunted by one of the greatest spectors looming on our horizon if we don't change our current tragectory: a world awash in plastic.

The images and facts we found today about our plastic problem left us truly speechless.  We began looking around our own home with a new lens on and what we saw was disturbing.  We, a homeschool dedicated to ecoliteracy and stewardship, are swimming in an excess of plastics. We all agreed, we need to make some changes.  The children were a buzz with brainstorming solutions.  It seems we've found our something that we can really get passionate about - reducing our use of plastics.

Here are some of the facts we found that made us commit today to changing our plastic use.

22 Preposterous Facts about Plastic Pollution.

• In the Los Angeles area alone, 10 metric tons of plastic fragments—like grocery bags, straws and soda bottles—are carried into the Pacific Ocean every day.
• Over the last ten years we have produced more plastic than during the whole of the last century.
• 50 percent of the plastic we use, we use just once and throw away.
• Enough plastic is thrown away each year to circle the earth four times.
• We currently recover only five percent of the plastics we produce.
• The average American throws away approximately 185 pounds of plastic per year.
• Plastic accounts for around 10 percent of the total waste we generate.
• The production of plastic uses around eight percent of the world's oil production (bioplastics are not a good solution as they require food source crops).
• Americans throw away 35 billion plastic water bottles every year (source: Brita)
• Plastic in the ocean breaks down into such small segments that pieces of plastic from a one liter bottle could end up on every mile of beach throughout the world.
• Annually approximately 500 billion plastic bags are used worldwide. More than one million bags are used every minute.
• 46 percent of plastics float (EPA 2006) and it can drift for years before eventually concentrating in the ocean gyres.
• It takes 500-1,000 years for plastic to degrade.
• Billions of pounds of plastic can be found in swirling convergences in the oceans making up about 40 percent of the world's ocean surfaces. 80 percent of pollution enters the ocean from the land.
• The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is located in the North Pacific Gyre off the coast of California and is the largest ocean garbage site in the world. This floating mass of plastic is twice the size of Texas, with plastic pieces outnumbering sea life six to one.
• Plastic constitutes approximately 90 percent of all trash floating on the ocean's surface, with 46,000 pieces of plastic per square mile.
• One million sea birds and 100,000 marine mammals are killed annually from plastic in our oceans.
• 44 percent of all seabird species, 22 percent of cetaceans, all sea turtle species and a growing list of fish species have been documented with plastic in or around their bodies.
• In samples collected in Lake Erie, 85 percent of the plastic particles were smaller than two-tenths of an inch, and much of that was microscopic. Researchers found 1,500 and 1.7 million of these particles per square mile.
• Virtually every piece of plastic that was ever made still exists in some shape or form (with the exception of the small amount that has been incinerated).
• Plastic chemicals can be absorbed by the body—93 percent of Americans age six or older test positive for BPA (a plastic chemical).
• Some of these compounds found in plastic have been found to alter hormones or have other potential human health effects.

Is it possible to go plastic-free?

Listen to the Green Divas feature interview with Beth Terry, author of Plastic-Free: How I Kicked the Plastic Habit and How You Can, Too.

Ten Ways To “Rise Above Plastic."

• Choose to reuse when it comes to shopping bags and bottled water. Cloth bags and metal or glass reusable bottles are available locally at great prices.
• Refuse single-serving packaging, excess packaging, straws and other "disposable" plastics. Carry reusable utensils in your purse, backpack or car to use at bbq's, potlucks or take-out restaurants.
• Reduce everyday plastics such as sandwich bags and juice cartons by replacing them with a reusable lunch bag/box that includes a thermos.
• Bring your to-go mug with you to the coffee shop, smoothie shop or restaurants that let you use them, which is a great way to reduce lids, plastic cups and/or plastic-lined cups.
• Go digital! No need for plastic cds, dvds and jewel cases when you can buy your music and videos online.
• Seek out alternatives to the plastic items that you rely on.
• Recycle. If you must use plastic, try to choose #1 (PETE) or #2 (HDPE), which are the most commonly recycled plastics. Avoid plastic bags and polystyrene foam as both typically have very low recycling rates.
• Volunteer at a beach cleanup. Surfrider Foundation Chapters often hold cleanups monthly or more frequently.
• Support plastic bag bans, polystyrene foam bans and bottle recycling bills.
• Spread the word. Talk to your family and friends about why it is important to reduce plastic in our lives and the nasty impacts of plastic pollution

Mother's Nature Journal: This is for the birds

Trump announced his plans to exit the climate treaty today, so we entered the woods.  The children made peanut butter and honey sandwichs for lunch in their little "magic spot" while I wrote to the soundscape of ravens and their imaginative play.  They were running wild with plans to design their dream homes amidst the trees.  It was a pleasant escape and reprieve.

I am exhausted.  Last night I was up again with a sick child.  As I was limping to the finish line of a great day at The Warthog School I honestly didn't know how I could clean up and get us all into bed.  Then, I saw our well-worn school table that we gather around everyday. The simple, exquisite beauty of our day's experience was awesome. There were the feathers that a friend had collected and left for us in a manila envelope behind the desk at the library framing the Nootka Rose buds and blossoms we picked in the rain today to make garlands and rose ice cream.

The beauty took my breath. So, I took a photo. And I took strength.  If THIS exists...if this exist I can stay not just hopeful...but activated. Sleepless nights and all.

Wild Child Wednesdays: Small Wonders

We headed out into Moran State Park this past Wednesday in search of small wonders.  I was recently re-inspired by Clare Walker Leslie's book The Curious Nature Guide to begin what will probably prove to be a never ending collage of, "brief images of nature that urge us beyond ourselves."

Except, we didn't get far.

Upon entering the woods we immediately spotted a few mushrooms, some tiny, impossibly intricate flowers, and then an opportunity for discord.  An, "I saw it first" moment was followed by an impulsive moment of destruction - and in thirty seconds flat "if I don't get it you won't" had happened.  One child took off toward the stream, the other toward a tree.  It was a stand off.

Luckily, just last week while struggling with a familiar bout of homeschool overwhelm - I had a game changer type epiphany that had me prepped to take this conflict on with gusto rather than my unspoken curse word of choice.  I looked down and grabbed a pinecone from the forest's floor.  As if Pavlovian trained the children slowly paced back to meet me in the middle for some "peace pinecone" process.

We had all that we needed - four little phrases that we gleaned from Marshall Rosenberg coupled with "a fidget" provided by the towering elder trees encircling our treaty territory.   With fingers and eyes engaged on a damp douglas fir cone E.P. began:
"When you..."
"I felt..."
"I need..."
"In the future, would you be willing.."

After both children were heard and affirmed we all got back on the same trail, together.
The small wonder we were all walking away with was - kindness.

The game changer epiphany I mentioned having last week was this: What if my only lesson plan is to teach kindness all day, everyday?  Can we make "kindness" the core-curriculum of our school? Will all else just naturally unfold from that center?

Clearly I wasn't totally sold on my epiphany as my internal thoughts exposed on our way home. After the productive peace treaty I walked behind the pack in relative quietude and heard what was really going on inside of myself.  "We didn't journal anything.  How is E.P. getting math these days? Why can't he just roll with things, why is their so much conflict resolution."  My eyes were like my inner mood, downturned, and that is how I saw it.  "What is THAT!"

Western Coral Root

The children had spotted one up ahead at the same moment.  We had found what would certainly prove to be our small wonder snapshot for the day.  We guessed it was some sort of orchid.  We marveled that just three days prior there had been no sign of these fleeting beauties on this trail.  We all had the familiar holding-your-breath moment of awe as if exhaling would make the vision dissolve like fairy glamour.  We had what we came in search of and in such a richer way than I had envisioned.  Our hour in the woods had definitely urged us way beyond our individual selves.  I wasn't just in awe of the flower.  I was in awe of us working in cooperation and learning with kindness at the core.  No one had to possess it.  No one felt driven to destroy it.  It was bigger than us even though it was so much smaller.

At this point in our homeschool journey, it is undeniable to me that educating a child with ADHD requires that the teacher be a trailblazer in education. Somedays, as evidenced by my inner chatter, I am scared of just what this unexpected job is asking of me.  "Is he reading enough?  Are we doing enough math?  Should we be DOING more each day."  Daily, I fall victim to these communal worries of a culture focused on competition and domination.  Even in the midst of our "peace pinecone" process my thoughts were betraying me with doubt, "This is too tedious.  Behavior dominates everything with us!  I can't believe this is what we have to do...there is SO much else to learn..."  

From my own education and experience of our common culture I was taught that kindness is not "enough".  I see it represented in my most painful inner thoughts during our homeschool days, "Maybe I should just ignore these conflicts, maybe I am giving it too much attention..."  This is truly amazing when viewed through the historical lens that I myself was a victim of neglect and abuse in the second grade - the very year that E.P. and I are currently navigating in his own education. This neglect and abuse happened inside the classroom of a public school.  It changed the entire trajectory of my life.  Even with that personal history I STILL wonder if I should just let the moments of meanness, the everyday conflicts slide...and get onto more important things to learn...like algebra. Maybe because I was unseen as a student it is a well worn path in me to defer to allowing the most important things to go unnoticed.  E.P.'s needs are making me finally blaze a different trail for the both of us.

I choose to believe that as E.P. was speaking of his hurt feelings in a healthful way,  we were all experiencing the kind of witnessing that can not only change a life, but can change an entire culture, and just might be able to change the world someday.  I carry with me one teaching credential that was the hardest earned for me and therefore the most influential in my education approach - for better and for worse I have a masters in neglect.  I am lettered in the danger of allowing things, and more importantly people, to go unnoticed.  A walk in the woods of the pacific northwest on a late spring day in May can provide you with the physical reminder of the slippery slope that allowing things to go "unnoticed" can become. It was almost too literal when E.P., in his fit of rage with his friend, slipped on the mossy undergrowth and fell on his bottom.   Unkindness brought him to the forest floor and he picked up his pinecone.

As an educator I am deciding that kindness is more than enough.  One peace treaty at a time we will stick to a curriculum that holds kindness as the core. I trust that our measure of success will come on days like today in which we earn the coral-root flower as a trophy of our hour's efforts.

On Going Unnoticed
by Robert Frost

As vain to raise a voice as a sigh

In the tumult of free leaves on high.

What are you in the shadow of trees

Engaged up there with the light and breeze?

Less than the coral-root you know

That is content with the daylight low,

And has no leaves at all of its own;

Whose spotted flowers hang meanly down.

You grasp the bark by a rugged pleat,

And look up small from the forest's feet.

The only leaf it drops goes wide,

Your name not written on either side.

You linger your little hour and are gone,

And still the wood sweep leafily on,

Not even missing the coral-root flower

You took as a trophy of the hour.

The Loose Leaf Kitchen: A Five Senses Feast

We rose April 29th not by marching but by munching.
The women's march in January was powerful for the children.  They were impressed with the number of people who felt so strongly about injustice.  They were impressed with how it felt to be standing in a united mass hooting and hollering in a call and response rhythm as individuals spoke in their outside voices and from their hearts.  The children's senses were peaked by a curious knowing as they experienced the type of communal chanting that is in their bones but not their current culture.  The unifying beat of the drum circle enchanted them as their legs and bodies began to syncopate with something outside of their own heartbeat.  It was an experience we always hope to find more of for them - the experience of being part of something bigger than themselves.  An experience that naturally puts their lives in perspective by illuminating our interconnection.

It was powerful.
Which was too much for the powers that be.

Two days later E.P.  saw a news post about Trump mocking the Women's March and we are still, three months out, healing the hurt feelings that it created.  In a moment, in which traditionally a child trying on the values that his nation champions would see a healthy and helpful response from the President, he saw behavior more like a peer, and one that was acting out inappropriately.  Far from inspired by the President, E.P. felt like he had been attacked on the playground by the second grade class bully.  It sucked for all of us.

Since he was understandably NOT interested in joining The People's Climate march we decided to show our love of the earth in our own creative way.  We rose to new heights by heightening and celebrating our senses and our sense-abilities!   We hosted a 5 Senses Feast and for this potluck friends were invited to bring something to delight any of our five senses.  It was sensational:

...and, it was an act in saying , "Fork it!"  Rather than trying to voice our values to individuals unskilled in listening we've decided to resist by living our values to the best of our abilities.  And, we are going right to the belly of the beast regarding climate change - we think that it's time for a GOOD FOOD FIGHT!   Empowered and inspired by Anne Lapp's *Diet for a Hot Planet* we are taking up the challenge of addressing our climate crisis by changing what's on the end of our forks!  And the five senses feast was just the beginning.  Be on the look out for other opportunities to feast and fight climate change in The Warthog School's Loose Leaf Kitchen.

* Held outdoors our Five Senses Feast was the perfect time for a sensory scavenger hunt in nature.  We highly recommend it!

Mother's Nature Journal: Loving the earth and it's children.

Our Earth Day was solemn.  E.P.'s stomach was unbearable.  The sky mirrored the mood as we circled round our well worn wooden table.  It just wasn't a day for feeling or making magic.  When I accepted that and realized that what I was feeling was grief - it was a great relief.
I had focused our attention this past week on "Earth day is coming up this Saturday!" but noticed as the week wore on that nothing felt naturally celebratory about it all.  Instead it felt heavy like a memorial.

It felt like hopelessness.

It felt like a day we needed to review and renew our commitment to The Warthog School mission statement.

At the heart of our homeschool is dedication to protecting and supporting our children's most precious birthright: their innate love of life - biophilia.  Remembering that my job is to help my children stay in love, everyday, with their natural environment (which includes themselves!) made me realize that the heaviness of this Earth Day was because I was focusing on our collective human failures.  The global. The political.  These days, these perspectives, leave me feeling powerless.  Hunkering down at home with my children this past Saturday I vowed to begin again where I know I can act in a way that will have a lasting positive impact.

When I think about love I think of poetry.  I think about when I first fell in love with the sound and feeling of words being pounded out on my old black Royal.  I put at the centerpiece of our Earth Day observation, one of my favorite poems:

For the Children

Gary Snyder

The rising hills, the slopes, 
of statistics

lie before us.

The steep climb

of everything, going up, 
up, as we all

go down.

In the next century

or the one beyond that, 
they say,

are valleys, pastures,

we can meet there in peace 
if we make it.

To climb these coming crests 
one word to you, to

you and your children:

stay together 

learn the flowers 

go light 

After reading it, after time in our sit spot watching ducks feed, by day's end I felt that I had put to rest, for now, my feelings of hopelessness.  I remembered with a smile what David W. Orr wrote about consciously adopting an attitude that will best help us confront our impending fate - whatever it may be.  I felt the fight come back into me.  A fight fueled by love.

Love of children.

Love of life.

I'm going to get our children to those valleys and pastures, we can still make it.

Mother's Nature Journal: Spring Foraging

Left to right: Stinging Nettles, Horsetail, Skunk Cabbage

Stinging Nettles aren't what come to mind when I think of a plant that might heal/soothe a sick and aching tummy - yet they seem to do just that for E.P.  We headed into the wilds at the first sign of afternoon sun this week and harvested our first round (of many!) of our favorite northwestern wild green.  As we cautiously snipped the heads off spring's first edible offerings E.P.'s mind, steeped in sunshine and spring, was pondering death.  My own thoughts were on new life and rebirth so I took pause when he broke with his singing and snipping to ask,  "Mom, how would you choose to die if you had to...having your head cut off with a sword or being shot?"  With a blade in my own hand and already a pound deep into my own process of plant decapitation I answered, "The sharp, unexpected blade."  There was much silence that followed for both of us and nature filled it in with raven chatter and the creek's song.  The skunk cabbage smelled even more toxic to me in this quietude and my own stomach felt uneasy and tense.

E.P. is a master of communicating his feelings and needs by showing rather than telling.  If E.P. has a sick stomach it is contagious not because of a virus but because of the behavior he enacts to exorcize his suffering.  His pacing and seemingly aimless bouncing speaks volumes to anyone in his vicinity about just how difficult some of his ADHD symptoms are to tolerate.  His excruciating restlessness (acted out through pacing) gets sneakers onto my own feet before it has even registered to him that his workbook might need to be supported by a tree stump rather than a desk that day.  When I'm with E.P. I "check in" with my own body even more than I check in with his words and it reminds me of my work before taking on E.P.'s education.  As a yoga therapist working with women in recovery I learned a lesson that has proven invaluable to raising, educating, and loving E.P.  I was in a staff meeting one day in which a fellow therapist was receiving supervision - the emotional housekeeping of sorting out our own biases and triggers so that we can continue to show up whole and clear for our clients.  The therapist was describing just how difficult it was to stay committed to working with her client.  She enumerated a list of words that described how the client made her feel.  They were potent feelings, the kind of feelings that we all try to steer clear of in life, and we all felt for the therapist and what she was navigating.  Our supervisor listened to the entire list, sat quietly for a moment, and then offered; "She is making you feel how it feels to be her.  Right now this is her only way to communicate.  Remind yourself that how you feel when you are with her is how she feels about herself."  The room full of seasoned therapists was silent.  It was heartbreaking.  We all got it. It was a moment that changed my life.

Luckily.

Because, as it turns out, this amazing emotional survival skill seems to be built into children who struggle with ADHD.  They seem to have an awesome ability to make you feel their symptoms and challenges intensely as a way of getting their needs met.  I am finding it is up to us, their educators, caregivers, the people that love them unconditionally, to "stay in it" with them long enough to ferry them to the other side of getting those needs met.  And, right now, E.P. And I are standing boot deep in the bog of communicating through behaviors about his stomach and his struggles with anxiety.  It smells like sour skunk cabbage in full bloom.  I stand with him in the stink.  We appear to be captured by a perimeter of stinging nettles.  And I practice the wisdom of not trying to escape.  Together we do the unspoken work of trying not to avoid but rather to be present with it all; the much treasured sunshine, the sick stomach, the thoughts of fear and death that are arising alongside the new buds on the alders.  As I surrender to it all happening at once I realize that for many years now I've diluted spring to a water color washed celebration of life returning. I've focused only on the beauty of spring and how it brings me comfort and pleasure .  E.P.'s embrace of spring is surging with thoughts of death and how to process ideas like "how does something come from nothing?"or "how does something go on forever, or end forever with nothingness following.."  Questions and thoughts that finally toss him to the forest floor in exasperation and a moment of feeling completely untethered, 'Mom right now I have that feeling I hate when I think of space expanding forever.."

This kind of embrace of spring reminds me of my childhood and my own much more complex and complete experience of nature's rebirth. 

Because I stay in the wilds and in the conversation with E.P. his anxiety about death finds it's own conclusion (for now.)  After my answer about the sharp unexpected blade he sings more - this time it is an intense almost yelling singing - "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC I think.  I am grateful that the trees have their soft mosses in abundance this time of year to buffer his acoustics.  As he tires he stops snipping and singing and declares to me, "Mom, I think I was an old man, and I died, and I became me..."  And that belief and understanding seems like what he needs - for now.  For he dashes home and there isn't a mention of his stomach.  I balance keeping up and getting a little space for myself to marvel in what the forest and it's seasons teach him.  And to laugh to myself,  "To think that I thought for even a moment that a classroom could ever have contained him."   

The season's first Salmonberry blossoms

Mother's Nature Journal: Our return to Lum Farm

There are eighty-some sheep at Lum farm with some still waiting to "lamb". 

"Group Hug".  Self titled by E.P. 

E.P. helped deliver alphalfa via the turnstiles while Amy and I rearranged fencing.

New grass proved as exciting for the sheep as for the boy.  A stampede and frolic ensued.

Mother's Nature Journal: Returning to Orcas Island

There is something about a home(school)coming occuring on a large sea vessel that super naturally drenches a student in magical myth and lore.  No words are required, no story to spin, but rather a silence is called for to hear the slicing of waters at the bow and the ferry dock lights calling
"...this way....this way..." back.

This morning while E.P. struggled to endure another attack of stomach pains, I unpacked The Warthog School for our Spring and Summer semester here on Orcas Island.  Brooms over doorways,  old wooden desks wheeled back into position. As I put back up the "Accentuate The Positive" reminder...was I ever reminded of just what a difference six months can make for the environment.  After I re-hung the mini-chalk board I sat down stunned because it held the last thing we were excited about before we shoved off for Costa Rica.

I can't seem to get myself to erase it, even though Trump won't hesitate too if he hasn't already.

I suppose, now more than ever, we need to keep up this practice of pointing out what is oh so wonderful in the world.  

The Craft: Our day was trashed.

The storm moon did not go out as a lamb around here.  We had a spring snow storm on the mountain.  We had physical and emotional discomfort in our home.  

Last Wednesday I broke down in tears from frustration.  It felt like our day was trashed. It was Baanko's idea to full embrace that feeling by acting it out.  In her estimation it was a great day for dumpster diving. She headed to the recycling box in our broom closet and emerged with a cardboard egg carton and an old pizza box.  It was time to hone her skills in shape shifting.  

The outlines of two nesting bowls on the old pizza box created the pattern for the wreath.  The egg carton cut into twelve independent cups and shaped with petals made the flowers.  Bright paint and rhinestones transformed it into a wreath of bright spring blooms.  The process of repurposing trash into a craft treasure gave us just enough purpose and direction to pull us up and out of the emotional storm.  Now that's real magic!

Loving Kindness Committee: Spiraling out of the Storm Moon

As March's Storm Moon wanes we are dizzying ourselves with endless Pi (oh, how they were hoping March 14th was National PIE day) and finding Fibonacci spirals in nature.

We left a jar of uplifting thoughts at the center of the labyrinth.  We were delighted to see that after one day only two messages were left.  Our "Peace Pinecone Labyrinth" was a big hit with spring break visitors.

The Craft: Magnifying the Magnificence

For a school dedicated to stewardship I certainly dropped the ball on World Wild Life Day. Once clued in we enjoyed watching some videos from around the world - including the incredible story about the last male northern white rhino that is protected 24/7 by armed guards.  It was a jaw dropper for E.P.  He guessed the guns were to scare off big prey.  I stayed silent regarding any of my own guesses and skipped reading the portion of the article about poachers, humans, being the threat.  Even with our time table to "save the earth" unexpectedly expedited by changes in the government I am still sticking to David Sobel's guideline of "No catastrophes before grade 4".  I decided to shield him from the horror of other humans' choices.  Instead we marveled in the dedication of some people when it comes to saving the future for other species.

As our day meandered along I struggled to make a meaningful experience regarding the stunning grandeur of the wild.  It was an off day.  Then, an hour before bedtime, what is often the "witching hour", became a positively magical moment as some glass stones from the dollar store spilled out over the nat geo I was cutting up for scrapbooking.  The slight magnifying effect of the convex glass made echinacea blooms and a lone wolf pop from the heap and the kids eyes did about the same.  With scissors and Elmer's we didn't stop until every stone was transformed into a small token that magnifed the magnificence of the wild.

At the beginning of this week I had a bout of spiritual bankruptcy.  The classic struggle for hope in hard ecological times.  I saw Jimmy Carter's words scribbled on a white board at the ski lodge, "Like music and art, love of nature is a common language that can transcend political or social boundaries."  Although I was struggling emotionally that day the Douglas Firs in their new white robes commanded my attention like a royal processional.  On the quiet lift up the mountain I relaxed into nature, the only power that I can fall to the feet of without fear.  

At the end of this week with a fistful of child-made glass gems I feel rich in our own magical currency - deep reverence for nature and the wild.  That's what I am stuffing in their savings accounts and the interest it accrues daily is the best return I've ever seen.  That's where I have to turn to source my hope.

The Loving Kindness Committee

"What the world needs now, is love, sweet love..."

The Warthog School's Loving Kindness committee is finally picking up steam. We are super charged from a day of instant gratification regarding our adventures in "random acts of kindness."

February 14th we headed out for the day with fresh rice crispy treats and handmade Valentines in tow. Each place we stopped in our daily homeschool routine we surprised the people that we count on regularly yet don't know well with a token of our affection. The result was just what we wanted and needed. It was proof positive that what the world needs now is love sweet love.

We soaked up genuine smiles, hugs, and gratitude. We lingered and talked and enjoyed the warm-fuzzy feeling of connection. It was undeniable, real, magic.

E.P. summed it all up at days end, "I felt really good...love is contagious."
So...here we go.
That was just the start.
We're planning more adventures in "random acts of kindness" and we've launched a mini membership drive. We cannot wait to see what magic our friends make too!