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Saturday, October 22, 2011

Clarifying theories

courtesy of fotosoup
I have neglected my writing some, in these last few weeks.  But life has been busy of late.  After facilitating an online seminar (more on this in a later post) and struggling with a bout of food poisoning (damn you, Dagwood!), I took off for the Great White North for an extended weekend of theorizing.  Say what?  Theorizing?  That doesn't sound like too much fun.  Let me explain.
hooks talks about finding “a place of sanctuary in theorizing, in making sense out of what was happening” (p. 61).  She also talks about the influence of Paulo Freire and the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh on her life and work.  The former I have talked about at some length in a prior post.  In relation to the latter, she says that he “offered a way of thinking about pedagogy that emphasized wholeness, a union of mind, body and spirit” (p. 14).  Here’s a quote from Thich Nhat Hanh that hooks references in her book:  “The practice of a healer, therapist, teacher or any helping professional should be directed toward his or herself first, because if the helper is unhappy, he or she cannot help many people”. 
Like hooks, I have often found “sanctuary in theorizing”, inwardly reflecting upon what has been happening around me, to those around me, to myself and my role in all of it; how does it relate to what I know, what I’ve read, what I’m learning.  And as a seasoned social service worker, I know the value of what Thich Nhat Hanh speaks.  Helper, help thyself.  However, I also know that my ability to direct my practice inward is often hampered by the incessant buzz of white noise that the busyness of life projects.  Being a displaced northerner, I have always found solace and sanctuary in the outdoors, particularly the north. 

Now, I’m not talking about tromping off into the wilderness and cutting myself off from reality for an extended period of time, although I have done that and often find myself longing for that.  What I’m talking about is that moment when the cool fall air picks up through the soughing of the tamaracks in their golden glory, and you breathe in through your nose the scent of hay, decaying leaves and football.  The tip of your nose is cold and you revel in the warmth of your sweater, stamping feet, and outdoor work, cleaning up and preparing for snow.  That’s the moment when my brain and my soul feel as though they have been washed clean and theories become clear.    

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