Old Fashioned Ways with New Fashioned Consciousness

Waldorf education is known for its festival celebrations that take place throughout the year and  return again the following year to be revisited and celebrated once more. The very foundation of the kindergarten and nursery is the festival life that is born out of the rhythm of the year.

Throughout history, human beings have created rituals and celebrations around light and dark, sowing and reaping, birth and death. This is an ancient way of finding meaning in the world and connecting with others.

Mother Nature along with the seasonal cycle of the year provide the foundation for festival life with the turning wheel of the year, from light to darkness, from sowing to reaping to composting back into the earth, birth and death takes place over and over again. The wheel turns, the light returns. A good deal to celebrate.

Festival life provides the cadence for the school year. Some festivals, as well as certain aspects of festivals, are celebrated in specific grades grades or classes, some by the entire school body, some include parents, and some are open to the broader community. It depends on the teacher, the school, the circumstances and the community. 

For many of us, especially those of us who find ourselves with leanings towards Waldorf education, either as parents or as homeschoolers, or perhaps both, a school festival can be the first experience of Waldorf education in practice.

Yet many of us wonder about these mysterious festivals.

Rudolf Steiner, the founder of Waldorf education, biodynamic agriculture, anthroposophical medicine,  a new style of architecture, social reformer and much, much more, wrote and lectured on the rhythm of the year and the cycle of festivals through the year. His focus was on the four major events of the year, each of which takes place at or near the turning points of the year, that is Michaelmas, Christmas, Easter and Midsummer.

Before the advent of electricity and machines, people lived in harmony with the changes in the year, out of necessity. With the coming of autumn came preparations for the cold days to come. Food was preserved and stored. Wood stacked. Fires were lit to bring warmth and light to the night as dark came sooner during the harvest days of September. Neighbors and villagers came together to help one one bring in the hay, harvest the apples and the nuts, preserve the vegetables and fruits. These activities were not based on choice or lifestyle, they were necessities for survival. They were social events out of necessity.

Today many of the old ways are returning and to them we are bringing a new found conscious awareness to the celebration of festivals. No longer are most of us forced to bring in the hay or harvest the vegetables before the first frost in order to save the crops. We are free to work the land or not. We are free to help our neighbor or not. We are free to buy our groceries grown and produced miles away or to buy from our neighbor farmer or regional farmers who tend the land and animals in a manner that resonates with our world view and values.

Some old fashioned ways imbued with new fashioned consciousness.

Actions taken as a free choice.

This poster was produced and distributed by the US Food Administration at the turn of the  century during war time. Many of these "old fashioned" ways encouraged during war time have become conscious choices today.

Instead of doing it "because it has always been done this way," we are bringing new awareness to our actions, a deeper understanding of why our connection to the natural world and simple living matters.

Festivals offer us an opportunity to find inner meaning on the changes taking place in the outer world. The celebration of festivals gives us a chance to pause and take stock of our lives, in the moment and with reflection of years passed, they give us perspective on what it means to be human and to be alive. In a conscious and living way.



                                                     Peace on Earth begins at Home. 

The Period of Watchful Waiting

Thanksgiving came and went.

My thoughts have been with the water protectors in Standing Rock, standing strong to protect their sacred ground, their ancestors' burial sites, the water for their children, their land, their treaty rights, the water for everyone, the very well being of the earth. Watching the Native American people stand clear and strong. Standing for all of us. A time for healing and change. Urging the people and the leaders of the United States to find our identity as a nation, to clarify what this country stands for, and who it is about and act.

It's an unsettling time, and yet a time ripe with hope and potential. A little bit like transition when a woman is giving birth.

The first light of Advent is the light of stones, lights that live in seashells, in crystals and in bones.

Advent is a season in itself, a season of anticipation. The very word "Advent" has in its roots "ad" meaning towards + "venir" to come. Coming towards. Advent is a season of "coming towards." Of anticipation. Of quiet waiting.

It reminds me of my midwifery work in which the first trimester of pregnancy is known as The Period of Adjustment, the second trimester as The Period of Radiant Health and the third trimester as The Period of Watchful Waiting. These come from Helen Varney of Varney's Midwifery.

Advent is like the third trimester, we are in The Period of Watchful Waiting. A time of quiet anticipation. Waiting for what is to come. As the world is waiting, and praying, for  what will come at Oceti Sakowin. Women and healing work at Otceti Sakowin here, scroll down.

Watchful Waiting.

That Place of Trust

I've been following the buzz around Outside Magazine's recent online article about homeschooling that is grounded in children playing and exploring freely in nature.

You may have seen the article, it has a lovely photo of the author's son setting off across a frozen body of water, handwoven pack strapped on his back, knife in pocket, sticks in hand, you just know he is going to build a fire on the ice, or someplace nearby, and with it experience an elemental gathering of earth, air, fire and water, creating a mood of adventure and interest in the world, harkening back to the primeval, to what it means to be human. 

The article is written by fellow Vermonter and homeschooler, umm... I mean un-schooler... Ben Hewitt. I'm not saying we're fellow un-schoolers, although I will confess that  I do have an inclination towards a self directed, free play in nature, sort of childhood.

One might say that Waldorf education, in the early years, is a sort of un-schooling or natural living, that arises out of a specific picture of the child, but that, my friends, is a topic for anther conversation.

Although to be honest, I don't quite understand the term un-schooling. I find it perplexing as I tend to think of it as an undoing of what school has done to a child. Yet a child who has not been "schooled" does not need to be un-schooled, right? That seems logical to me.

When I was young, it was called childhood and everybody seemed to share the picture of the child as one who romps in the woods and meadows and comes home when its time to eat. It seems to me that this type of learning at home is an extension of healthy childhood.

I do understand Waldorf homeschooling to be an approach to learning that embraces self directed exploration, meaningful adult activity, play and the natural world.  I can assure you that it does not involve any captivity, but that, too, is a topic for another conversation.

This article seems to have tapped into many strong feelings about this rapidly growing movement in handmade, outdoor, trust the child, trust the world, know your neighbors and lend a hand type of home education that is exploding among homeschoolers, that perhaps reflects a change in human consciousness, a shift in human consciousness that brings a new fashioned approach to old ways of doing things, this time around with conscious awareness of why we do what we do.

In any case, it was the article itself that, inspired me to check out the author's blog where he shares daily reflections on his days and life as a family, a farmer and a parent.

Our families have something in common. We live in Vermont and spend a good deal of time out of doors. We keep chickens and grow food, each year striving to grow more and more of our food. We know our neighbors and feel blessed to be surrounded by farmers who farm with care and conscious awareness for the food they produce. My children spend heaps of time out of doors, carry pocket knives, have their own axes, love to whittle and use their hands all day long.

My oldest spent two semesters immersed in the rhythms of daily living in the outdoors with Kroka Expeditions.  More to come on Kroka and this movement of handmade, outdoor, trust the child, trust the world, know your neighbors and lend a hand type of community education in another post. Gosh, I am setting myself up for quite a few blog posts.

One of my boys has eaten road kill and killed animals to eat, the other is vegetarian. One of my boys still likes to make his own bows and spent weeks and weeks exploring what type of branch is best suited for a bow. He loves to practice shooting  at non living things. Both of them know how to chop wood, kindle fires, grow and harvest vegetables, milk a cow or goat, cook meals from scratch, understand the the beauty and process of compost, love being in and on the water and have no qualms with weather.

We too have made sacrifices for this lifestyle. I stepped out of my work as a midwife to be with my children. I have chosen to live simply, garden, cook from scratch and work from home because it is meaningful for me to be at home mothering my children and tending the hearth. I suspect every mother who has made the choice to stay home with her children can understand this kind of devotion and sacrifice based on love.

The author brings a new voice to the conversation when he speaks as a father, who has made conscious family choices to stay home that involve sacrifice and daily hard work.

Yet what resonates most strongly within me from this article and today's blog post from Ben Hewitt, is trust. The ability or capacity to trust ourselves as parents. From that flows the ability to trust our children. From that trust comes development of capacities as human beings. It can happen in the wild, it can happen in the kitchen, it can happen in a barn. Wherever there is trust in the child, freedom to play and explore, adults engaged in meaningful work, children will grow and develop capacities as human beings. The capacity for imagination, for creativity, for problem solving, to love the world and all its living inhabitants, it arises out of trust and a sense that the world is good.

For it seems to me that the first step, after developing a sense of trust for our parents and the meeting of our needs as infants, is the impression that the world is good.

So I ask myself, how do we get to that place of trust, how can we get there if we were not trusted to take risks and explore and do things out of our own initiative as children?

How do we return to that place of trust if once we have known it?

How do we return to trust when our sense of the world as good gets shaken?

How can I support the parents I work with to step back and wait and trust?

Is it something we are born with, an innate trust in the world and in ourselves and children?

Does it result from a childhood that makes room for self initiated movement, play and exploration?

I don't pretend to have the answers, I am sharing my observations, experiences and contemplations here. My guess is that it is a combination of what we are born with, who we are born to and the experiences we have in life, particularly in the first decade of life.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and reflections on this.

::::

Celebrate the Rhythm of Life 

Harmonious Rhythms ::  Parenting with Soul :: Waldorf Homeschooling

Happiness is a Compost Bucket

When I was young and imagined my life as an adult, I saw myself living in a big city like Paris, New York or San Francisco, doing deeply meaningful work, wearing stylish clothing, discussing politics and working for causes I believed in and going to parties where people said witty things. 

The urge to have children had not hit and I did not envision children in my life although I seemed to attract children to me throughout my life. I imagined this adult world as a grown up. My work as a midwife was focused on the mom- to- be and her partner.

Fast forward this picture through relationships with men who wanted to have children and fairy tales and a home with a hearth and settling down with one who seemed to share my values. Fast forward to the birth of my first child. Pregnancy changed my body each day in ways I never imagined. I ate with a hunger I had not known before. I fell asleep on the sofa after dinner. Basic need became primary.

Who would have known that becoming a mother would do that?



I remember the day after my first child was born. His dad had gone to work and I was sitting on the bed watching this new and precious being sleep peacefully. When I began to consider the enormity of the task that lay before me, I began to cry. This was a human being and my task was to introduce him to the world. About diapers and feeding and creating a home, I felt excited and capable. But his soul, I had no idea how I, a mere person would provide enough of the right thing for this child. I sobbed my worries out and  went on staring at him the way new mothers stare entranced with their newborns while they sleep, encased in a bubble of timelessness.

You may be wondering what does this all have to do with a compost bucket ?

I'm getting there.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I gave up coffee and carefully read all food labels for additives and artificial food coloring. These foods became repugnant to me and my body no longer wanted them. I even gave up M&M's. I chose the healthiest foods I could find and ate protein with every meal and slept early each night. I thought pleasant thoughts and was excited about becoming a mother.  I talked to my mom about mothering and grew closer to her through this.

When my first child was born, I knew that I would give my life to save this child if ever need be. I felt protective in ways I never imagined. I drove slower and more cautiously. I calculated risks that I had thought nothing about doing before like jumping off trestles and picking up hitchhikers. My life took on new meaning and purpose in such a simple and primal way. I drew stronger boundaries in my work and instantly realized the value of my time when it was weighed against caring for my child and homemaking. I realized that my mom was a really good mom and capable homemaker. I realized how large it is and how encompassing it becomes.

This past weekend when I went to the dump, I learned that the large compost buckets I had been waiting for, were in, the four gallon ones with the tight fitting lid. The dump man gave me one. My own five gallon bucket had split on the side and never fit right under the sink. My porch bin is full and it is too much to trek out to the bins with each meal's scraps with the snow and cold.

I am thrilled to find a compost bucket that is large enough to hold the scraps we produce and to fit under the sink. I am thrilled to be home with my second grader, homeschooling him. I am thrilled when my teenager asks me to sit with him and help with his homework. I am thrilled to go outside and hear the birds and see a cardinal in the tree. I am thrilled for the sunbeams poring into the kitchen this morning.

Now I live in Northern Vermont, in this small rural, agricultural state. It is a huge big deal to throw a party and most likely it is a birthday party or lantern walk or cookout in the summer. That's what I can manage. Grown up time is scarce and precious. It's been ages since I've been in the city and I find the bigs ones overstimulating with children. When I took my first born to San Francisco, he was nearly three and I was afraid he might step on or pick up a syringe in my old neighborhood. The neighborhood looked so different through my eyes as a mother, filthy and fast paced. No where to roam freely on the sidewalks.

I do miss the pulse of urban life and experience it vicariously through my city friends. And today I am grooving on my new compost bucket which means gracefully turning our food scraps back into the earth which satifies me in ways I never imagined possible.

Who would have known?


Blessings,

Lisa