The Art of Humans Being - Boston - Repatterning Ourselves, Our Work and Our communities in the New Story 2010 & 2012 Explorations in Creating the New Economy

Comment

Comment by madeline snow on January 30, 2011 at 6:11pm

Continuing the learning--participated in the Art of Hosting--Boston this past week in Essex.   Best wishes to you all.

Comment by madeline snow on January 30, 2011 at 6:10pm

Comment by Susan Cerato on August 4, 2010 at 8:53pm

I love it now...that I recognize the pictures as those beautiful spirits with whom I spent some good time. The new children....and even some of the older ones now....have captured the essence of those things of which you speak, Madeline. The question is how we are going to ensure that the schools are in alignment with this intention. Where are the teachers who will not only recognize their amazing brilliance but also teach them to let themselves fly free?

Comment by madeline snow on August 4, 2010 at 2:36pm

"A child's world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preide over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last thorughout life, an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of out strength."--Rachel Carson

Comment by Rita Wuebbeler on July 31, 2010 at 12:27am

From: Beauty. The Invisible Embrace by John O’Donohue
“Is it not possible that a place could have a huge affection for those who dwell there? Perhaps your place loves having you there. It misses you when you are away and in its secret ways rejoices when you return. Could it be possible that a landscape might have a deep friendship with you? That it could sense your presence and feel the care you extend towards it? Perhaps your favourite place feels proud of you. We tend to think of death as a return to clay, a victory for nature. But maybe it is the converse: that when you die, your native place will fill with sorrow. It will miss you voice, your breath and the bright waves of your thought, how you walked through the light and brought news of other places. When the funeral cortège passes the home of the departed person, is it the home that is getting one last chance to say farewell to its beloved resident or is it the deceased getting one last look at the home? Or is it both? Perhaps each day our lives undertake unknown tasks on behalf of the silent mind and vast soul of nature. During its millions of years of presence perhaps it was also waiting for us, for our eyes and our words. Each of us is a secret envoi of the earth. (p. 33)