Reviewing the Old Ways the Old Way

Original box for Gary Synder's audio book The Practice of the Wild (1991).

Despite his voice being a touch higher than I recall, perhaps due to the tape being too tightly wound on a long undisturbed cassette, The Practice of the Wild cassette book is very much how I recall the poet sounding back in 1991 when I heard him speak at Nazareth College. At least I think it was Nazareth College. While cleaning out the attic a few weeks ago, I came across a small collection of books-on-tape that I purchased shortly after  graduating from college with my undergraduate degree in English Literature/Secondary Education. Among them was the aforementioned double cassette. In an age of digital sound, listening to the tapes took a little effort, especially as we, like most American homes, have converted everything to CDs and digital download. After procuring my late father's Walkman, I was ready to take another walk in the woods...

Like many college English Literature majors, I was introduced to the work of Gary Snyder in an introductory poetry course, and as a young man growing up in an urban neighborhood attending Catholic elementary school, the content and perspective was exotic and new. At the time, I had not traveled beyond the freeway connecting our home to my relatives' outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and the idea of anyone espousing a belief system outside a Judeo-Christian one was unfamiliar to me. Snyder's poetry then was a gateway to the larger school of thought he represented and further (if not a touch more concretely) articulated later in a number of essay collections. If the earlier Earth House Hold (1969) or Myths and Texts (1960) appealed to the revolutionary spirit most moderately embrace in undergraduate studies, the nine essays that comprised The Practice of the Wild spoke to the adult domesticity I found myself accepting as a parent shortly after graduation.

The Practice of the Wild (1991) double cassette runs 3 hours and is a traditional book on tape in that its contents reflect those of the original text, published a year earlier in 1990. Having the text read by Snyder lends an added sense of gravitas and nobility to the its already comforting and airy message. In many ways, my experience to listening to Snyder's verbally share his work is reminiscent of listening to classic music on the way  to work with my untrained ear. Both are incredibly comfortable auditory experiences that establish an educated yet grounded mood. On rare occasions some small understanding is revealed to me as the recipient.

Much like a film with many quotable lines, The Practice of the Wild has many phrases and sayings that since its initial publication have become popularized as inspirational quotes, such as “With no surroundings there can be no path, and with no path one cannot become free.” Also like a quality movie with many good lines, the parts are even stronger when taken as part of a whole. The tape (and book) both add depth and meaning to Snyder's personal philosophy of compassion for all sentient beings, a class in which he includes mountains, trees and water. Key to continuing to foster and nurture this relationship with all beings is allowing our language to grow and develop in a manner that suggests the interdependence necessary for survival. "Wild," "nature," and "place" are just three of the words that Synder's clarification of within the context of his environmental politics, serve as common entry points for those unfamiliar with his thinking. As someone who is superficially aware--and deeply appreciative of--Snyder's work, I find myself always in need of a re-engagement with his brand of deep ecology. This rewiring of our linguistic present is just a precursor to what Snyder hopes will blossom into a radical restructuring of modern living in accordance with his ideas.

I seem to recall having seen a more current version of The Practice of the Wild text with the audio book included, but was unable to find it on line. Fortunately, Snyder is such a beloved literary-cultural figure that many of his speaking appearances and interviews have been capture on video and are available for viewing on YouTube. If unable to find the book-on-tape, you could do much worse than spending a few minutes with Gary Snyder at Colorado College in 2015. 

What's in a Name?

Spelling errors aside, there is an anecdote here...

Each day there is at least one trending hash tag on Twitter that requires some introspection whether silly (#tweetapicofyourfriendf*****up) or reflective (#itishardformeto), and as modern teen, my son often joins in the online community high jinks. I, in turn, (as a conscientious modern parent) "creep" on his responses so I have a clue as to what's going on.

A few weeks ago the Twitter exchange above took place between he and I, following his response to the trending #TweetANameYouAlmostGot. As you cane see, he mentioned on oft-told story (more of an "exchange" really) wherein he had nearly be dubbed "Geronimo" by his mother and I. In truth this was more a product of my desires, and ultimately it was her decision (rightly) to name him as he was. Like many young couples, we had spent quite a bit of time looking through baby name books and writing down ideas before settling on some names that would both work, and perhaps more importantly, appease our families.

I am a believer that there is something to the eventual response to the question "What's in a name?" but not necessarily that it is the seed of some self-fulfilling prophesy that the bearer can't escape. If you think about it, if naming resulted in a one-hundred percent predictive quality, why would anyone continue to bestow three names upon their child, as nearly any time some nut job commits a horrific crime they begin referring to he or she by their formal three-name moniker?

So, where did the idea of "Geronimo" come from? How was it that my son almost ended up with that as his name? As with many things in life, it all started with a poem...


Lifted from Public Radio's Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keiller website.

Since my days as an English major back in undergraduate school, Gary Snyder has been a favorite poet of mine. When I first came across this poem, it occurred to me what a great name Geronimo would be for a child, especially a son. Beyond the historical strength of the man, the tenderness and intimacy Snyder seems to imbue the name with, in describing his own son (at least as I interpreted the poem), seemed to result in a solid, strong, and sensitive name. Many years later, when my son's mother and I were planning for his birth, I suspect she humored me with even momentarily "agreeing" to it, I knew I had little chance in winning that "battle." In the end it wasn't about winning a fight, but about having a healthy baby anyway.

So even though we went with a slightly more traditional name (despite it not being so traditional in Upstate New York), his "nickname," Jack, proved to be one I had hoped for as well. Even if my son son did not get the reach name I had wanted, he has grown into a strong sensitive lad, so, what's in a name anyway?

Resources:
Remembering Geronimo on the 100th Anniversary of His Death by Gregory McNamee

Goodbye-Hello-Goodbye Classroom

Throughout the school year, I maintain two plastic sleeves adhered to my classroom door used to display any number of handouts, fliers, articles and announcement for students (and staff to a much lesser degree). For example, for the past few weeks I've had the Summer School Bulletin posted along with a Hallway Haiku written by a student. As I pulled these handouts from the plastic sleeves yesterday morning (the haiku to be saved and the bulletin recycled), I decided to leave poem behind for whoever might be using the classroom space this summer.

Big fan of woodcuts...

Unsure as to the message I wanted to leave behind, I searched on Poets.org, and came across a few candidates ranging from the elementary--though excellent ("Casey at the Bat")--to the esoteric (William Carlos Williams). I settled on the poem above by Gary Snyder as I like the competing senses of inclusion inherent in the environmental imagery ("Pitch glows on fir-cones") and the detachment I infer from the line "I cannot rememeber... they are in cities." At the very least I will look forward to being greeted by it upon my return in September... 

Snyder on Sitting and Poetry

This post is not so much a "newsflash" as it is the "sharing" an article I recently came across online that might be of interest to aspiring poets...

Tricycle magazine's on-line edition recently displayed a web-button in the left margin which caught my attention as it eluded to no less than three of my personal areas of interest (in no particular order): poetry, Gary Snyder and meditation. First published in 1991, eco-poet Gary Snyder's article Just One Breath: The Practice of Poetry and Meditation, in which he expands on the relationship between the act of writing poetry and meditating.

Though Snyder does discuss his own journey with Zen Buddhism, he shares in a way that does not exclude those who do not sit (mediate) for long periods of time, by recognizing up front the value of even a single conscious breathe.

A long standing Snyder fan, I was amazed at how new, fresh and personal this 18 year-old(!) felt. Snyder discusses how he came to his process of writing poetry and how he found balance in both his meditative and writing practices. I invite you to check out the articel at the link above and leave you with this thougth from Synder:

An accomplished poem, like an exemplary life, is a brief presentation, a uniqueness in the oneness, a complete expression, and a kind gift exchange in the mind-energy webs.

Earth Day Poetics

"Poets, as few others, must live close to the world that primitive men are in: the world in its nakedness, which is fundamental for all of us--birth, love, death; the sheer fact of being alive."~Gary Snyder, "Poetry and the Primitive"

The "celebration" of Earth Day can be an awkward and tricky thing.

While the idealistic intention is to (maybe) "honor the Earth," the necessity of a "special" day strikes me as unfortunate: that we, as a disparate, loose community of people, require the setting aside of a specific day on which to 1) demonstrate our commitment through special "events", and/or 2) honor the intrinsic connection through an outward expression of unity.

Perhaps, I'm being too cynical--any progress towards a deeper understanding of our innate connection with nature and each other can only be viewed as positive, right? For me, I'll acknowledge "Earth Day" by sharing Gary Snyder's reading of a piece of his poetry from his excellent collection Axe Handles:


It does sometimes seem apropos that Earth Day falls within The Academy of American Poets National Poetry Month celebration, especially given the connection between the poet's potential role in illuminating/preserving the individual's connection with Nature.