Hughlings Himwich

Cum carmine in meo corde

For my students

As a child, he had always felt close to birds. It was as if the birds revealed to him some other way of being in the world, what he would now call, as an adult, another reality. As a 6-year-old and then a teenager and later as a father and a teacher, he never stopped hoping that the birds would not fly off when he came near or, more secretly, that the birds would actually come to him. They didn’t, and he blamed himself, thinking if he had been a better person or more at peace with himself and others, the birds would naturally perch on his shoulders or nest in his beard. He scolded himself for such foolish thoughts. Then one day, while on a long solitary walk in the mountains, a bird did come to him but only to drive him off from its nest. It made him incredibly sad. When he returned home from his long walk, he slept the sleep of the dead but woke in the morning with a birdlike song in his heart. To the birds, however, nothing had changed. Yet, to this day, he still sings with the birds. Sometimes they do not fly away at once but seem to listen and join their song with his. He knew he was yet again being foolish, but now, at last, he felt strangely at peace.

 

That Bird Again

So, I thought I was alone on that beach when a sudden gust of wind blew my old tattered hat away.  It was like the hat had wings or was some sort of kite, diving and lifting over the sea, but having no string attached, it disappeared over the water and surely landed wherever it is that kites go once they are set free.  But then there was this bird call. I turned around and there, where there had been not one solitary person for months, was a girl wearing my hat.  She laughed at my surprise, handed me my hat, and flew happily off.  I knew then I was not alone.  

Interview

Are you still a teaching, Hugh? No, but I seem to have students anyway. 
Are you a poet? Well, there is a mischievous little bird that sings for me. 
Are you crazy? What do you think?
Are you happy? No. I travel light. 
Are you afraid of dying? No. I am in love with life. 
Are you wise? No, but I keep asking questions. 

 

At seventy-two

As I have grown older, I have plunged into language as though I were one of Melville's Catskill eagles. Poetry has given me a kind of second sight that sustains me in the dark places and makes me invisible in the light.   Now, at seventy-two, poetry is leading me into a deeper knowledge: to be truly alive means to experience myself as essentially compounded of earth and wind and all other living things. It all breathes fire. I now want more than words. I seek to understand simile and metaphor as reality itself.  Man is as much wolf as wind, as much rain as mind and so I would be.  I know that I am approaching the age of oblivion whose plentitude is ALL, an empty mirror that is yet full of life.  What I tell my students is that to be truly alive is to strive passionately for one’s own truth. My truth is the poetry of mind and heart and of Being itself.  

 

For a future writer

I’ve just read your entire piece and I hear in every line a voice that reminds me of something I can almost see but since I am not looking but looking past what is right there in front of me, the blackbird, the crow, a godforsaken human being, someone just like me. I am looking but what I see I hear are arms flailing and there is nothing left, just the damn bird staring right into my eyes and then I know that is what looking really is . . . . .

You know, Serena, I love your writing and I love this. This piece hit me hard. Maybe because right now I am not in the best frame of mind and just that phrase “frame of mind” tells you how bad it is. But somehow it is better now and I am hearing sounds I had almost forgotten were there. I am grateful.

So, now comes my customary declaration: you are and will be a writer. Go to business school or become a lawyer or work for the Center for Capitalization of POVERTY, you are a writer and will find your way there. If that were my legacy as a teacher, I would be well satisfied. Hey, the sun just jumped into my eyes and all I see is rain.  

For My Students

Let not young souls
    be denied the right
To dive like the phoenix
    into the night.

Let not the spring
    and the song it brings
Yield to those
    who no longer sing.

If there is time,
   there is also light --
Let not the young
   be denied their right.

Advice to a young poet

I have just finished reading your poems again and experienced again your passion and your truth-telling and distinctive voice.  I would’ not tinker with your poemst for anything in this world. Nor make any ‘constructive’ criticisms.  I could suggest that you write a poem of change where you experience yourself as a bird or rain or sound.  Tell me about that bird that calls me even now when I am about to go to sleep or rain that falls into your eyes or how it is that when I look at you I see tall grass bending with the wind or tell me all about that secret place where you go to gather flowers or tell me about the laughter that only those who climb into the leaves of the highest trees can hear.  Something that changes your passion and truth into something that lives on its own.  

 

Our time is now

I suspect my students

Capable of so much

More mischief

And lunacy, like wolves

Who howl at the moon

And grin, knowing

They rule the night

And make the stars stumble

Into their eyes,

Knowing nothing

Ever truly dies.

But not my students:

They sleep and wait,

They whimper and hide,

lying to themselves,

Afraid of the night

That would give itself

To them if only

They too would sing

The truth they know:

Our time is now,

We are the light.

Humanities 2010/2011

Each of these entries helps me remember the young souls who were entrusted to my care. I don’t want to forget who they are or what they striving for. I am striving likewise.

Mario Castellano . . . . I believe in the smile. Whether it is a dog, a boy, or an elderly lady, a smile can brighten even the worst of days. This is why I smile often, because many good things start with a simple smile. 

Nico Gamble . . . . Atlantic, I have seen you, lying on your side, in the great depression of the world! Every day, my friend, you are dozing, absentmindedly swatting at flies dancing over your body. With your millions of glorious sapphire eyes, you could peak at the moon while you greet the sun. But you sleep! And what a lively sleep it is, tossing and turning in your infinite dreams! Where is your sense of security? Why won’t you wake up? You have made a grave error, my friend Atlantic. You have mistaken the power of mass for ultimate power. Alas, you have no guard, because you think you are big, but my mind is bigger! You must learn, Atlantic; a mind can conquer any sleeping being, no matter how colossal! My friend, look, I have captured you! I have locked you in a box, a box where the sides are made with words, steel and unbreakable words! I will take the box around; I will show it to my friends. I will let them peak inside, and they will see you, wonder at you, because you will be there, sloshing in my box. One day, a day far away, you will escape the box; it will be a day when I have long forgotten the words that keep you my prisoner. You will slide to the floor, return to your home, and you will remember. You will keep active every wave and tide of your sapphire expression, because you will remember what it’s like to be trapped in a box of words!

John Gehrke . . . I really like Wittgenstein’s definition of philosophy. I am not sure if what I am doing now is philosophy, but when I do this it seems like I start with a thought on paper and then I try to make it clearer and clearer and as I go I find more insights and it tends to go in the direction of an activity of thought. This definition of thought as being an activity is really cool because it seems like most people see thinking not as an activity but more as a means to an end. Although they both mean basically the same thing, it is really rewarding to think of thought as being an activity. If you think of thought as being a means to an end, you are focused on the final answer, if there is one, and not on the activity itself. I feel like people take for granted the process of thought and how the activity can be very rewarding and you can learn a lot from the process itself and not just from the final answer. This is one of my favorite things about our discussions in class because I can sit and listen to what other people have to offer about the subject and I can think about how I feel about what they said and what I believe and as class goes on I can learn a lot about myself even though we never get to a final answer. It is all about the activity of thought rather than the final answer.

Andy Gorvetzian . . . .Pyramis: A rough outline for life. It begins with a strong base in morals, and then a three-fold education: introspection, observation, and knowledge. I must know myself, know others, and also know the concepts of this world. The pyramis is a pyramid without a top, no matter how hard we try, we cannot gain a top, or true enlightenment. But that is what makes us all human. And if we did have a top, then it would trap our soul inside. Our soul is independent of the pyramis; it goes out of the pyramis and affect others. Our humanity is within our soul, our connection to everyone else. We don’t have to worry if we don’t find enlightenment; for we must always have something for which we are striving. Besides, meaning and happiness are much more important. Humanity can be a beautiful thing. I must know myself, and I must be open enough to share my soul with others.

Alec Guthrie . . . . The journey to find love, to live free, and find happiness is worth the pain and adversity along the way. It is all I need. However short life may be, and however insignificant my life seems, one thing is for sure. My beliefs in love, living free, and happiness have started me on a painful journey to begin, but have brought me to a new height. A height where today I can say my heart is filled with love and hope. There will be no more reading from the paper. There will only be the eternal struggle to live free with love and happiness. As Camus says “The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”, and I believe this struggle is worth it.

Cole Helsell . . . . If there’s nothing out there, and if nothing much matters to begin with, then there’s no reason to worry. There is no standard to compare anything. You are what you are, and this is problematic only if you don’t accept it as fact. Every effort to fill the void is temporary, but the void itself will remain. And there is comfort in that. For example, of any human life you could say the following: he did what he did and he died. As you live your life, you live it the best you can. In this room, any of us might rid the world of some of its evils. Any of us might die tomorrow in a car accident. No reaction to these statements will change their veracity, and similarly, the statements themselves are woefully insufficient to persuade you of anything. In the end, this is the simplest way I can put my belief: ideas will live and die, and humanity will remain. Humanity will live and die, and the universe will remain. At the end of the universe, nothing will remain. And nothing is still a thing. Maybe.

Hugh Himwich . . . . Such philosophical questions as Do we have free will? What is truth? or Justice? are too often illusions like the paradoxes propounded by Zeno. The illusion comes when we mistake the arena in which these questions are to be answered. What is truth? Observe how I live, not what I say. I necessarily live out my answers to what is true and good. I am my philosophy and all that I have suffered I own.

Michele Howell . . . . that day, that moment when I felt the entire world was a blur, when I genuinely thought I was in a dream, and I truly could not believe that it was happening because I genuinely thought I was in a dream, and I truly could believe that it was happening because I had just achieved something that I wanted more than anything in the world, and because I was able to experience that incredible moment, I believe that working hard along with having a high level of dedication has gotten me where I am today. I am counting on my determination continuing to lead me to great things in my life.

Lauren Kedge

“Be sure that if you kill the sort of man I say I am, you will not harm me more than yourselves...he could not harm me, for I do not think it is permitted that a better man be harmed by a worse...for if you kill me you will not easily find another like me.” (Plato's Apology)

What does he mean by this? Could a better man be harmed by a worse man? Is the better man’s soul unable to be harmed or damaged? Does the state of the soul decipher what makes a person good or bad? How does the soul become “better?” What does it mean to be “better” or good? Does the word good mean something different from one person to the next? The word good or virtuous changes meaning depending on who it is coming from. Who is the ultimate decider of whether a soul is virtuous or not? Can virtue be decided by the man himself? If this were the case would all men consider themselves virtuous? Would someone be able to realize that their soul is not virtuous? Have I ever done anything to make my soul virtuous? Will I ever consider my soul to be virtuous?

Dylan Kintanar . . . . The man stood, and his animals roused themselves from their slumber. Quietly opened her mouth to speak, but the man held out a hand to stop her. “I know your question,” he said. “But I cannot show you the way out. Nor tell you, nor write it for you, nor otherwise communicate it to you. I can only point you in its direction. Do not follow in my footsteps, for they will lead you nowhere but back to the dragon you have already slain, reborn anew through your own efforts.” The man turned to leave, his eagle on his left shoulder, the snake wound around it like a friend. As he left the oasis, he said only, “Do not say, “I will not,” Quietly. Think no more of “No.” Ask yourself instead, “What can I do?” Say “Yes.” And so the man left the desert. Quietly thought about what he had said for a long time, until one morning, she stood up and looked around. “He was right,” she told herself. “The desert looks so small from above.” Then she too turned from the oasis and left. And so Quietly left the desert.

Neil Longenbaugh . . . . Neil: I’m turned toward thinking that consciousness is existence. And going away from this consciousness I think is a good thing, because I’m not sure even if there is necessarily one direction that you must head. Turning away could very well be just as real as going in the “normal” direction if we have to call it that. I can’t say I’ve experienced many of these traditions but I have a basic understanding. Do you believe that there is a certain direction, or is there a possibility or two, even an infinite amount of suns, or levels of consciousness? Hugh: I am thunderstruck by your statement that consciousness is existence. I have made that very same statement on another occasion. First, there are some esoteric eastern philosophies that do in fact speak of levels, e.g. personal consciousness and a transcendental consciousness, in which one experiences the loss of the self that the personal consciousness has constructed. I hardly know what to say about such things. I would rather discuss this "turning away" that you speak of. Speaking for myself, the "turning away" is the journey that through experience leads back to sun. This means that only by going away from the sun can we ever really know it as the source of our being. Thus, the journey, as in epic journeys, always leads through the Underworld where there is little or no light at all. That may sound poetic, but it involves real suffering. Is such a journey the good? Yes, but I speak only for myself here. Neil: I think that the turning away is a perspective. If you turn away from the sun, you can see how far you have come and what you have experienced. I think it can help you appreciate the sun more. I am concerned whether it is possible to turn away and never go back? Hopefully death doesn’t bring this but I think that a loss of consciousness means that there is no more journey.

Colin Martin . . . . I believe in David Eagleman’s “possibilianism”. While we puzzle over the mystery of our existence, a mystery that we will likely never solve, I prefer to revel in the mystery. There is no answer to why we exist, and I love it that way. It allows me to completely enjoy this life without worrying about the next.

Angela Mathew . . . .

I sat upon a rock one day
Little did I know
The trees had lost their coloring
The plants had ceased to grow

I sat upon a rock one day
But I failed to see
The oceans were no longer full
The dogs had all run free

I sat upon a rock one day
My mind was ever closed
The sun was gone the earth was dark
The kings had lost their thrones

I sat upon a rock one day
My thoughts were pure and true
The world burned down the buildings fell
And all I saw was you.

Cindy Nguyen . . . . Reasons for happily never after. The first code blue, when the intercom blared, and some hearts raced while others stopped. The rapper who was forced to apologize for the way he wrote. The way he thought. The bitter quadriplegic who ranted and raved for hours in her room, and no one heard her agony. The immigrants who never dared to say hello.

Ian O’Donoghue . . . . I believe in taking risks. Whether it's something academic, like taking a difficult class, social like finally talking to that person you've secretly had a crush on for five years, or physical like summiting a peak for no better reason than to say you were there. Too many people make excuses about why they can't do something. They always say "I would do that but…" People need to stop making excuses and just take the chance that they were too scared to before. Then they would discover that there is no feeling more rewarding that to take a risk and be successful. There is no better way to feel alive than to go out and actually experience life.

Lisa Peterkin . . . . Being clumsy my entire life, I’ve learned to not only laugh with others, but laugh at myself. With every tripping, falling, and slipping incident I’ve had I can laugh at almost every stupid thing that I do and not care about it. If I actually felt embarrassed every time something like that happened and I couldn’t laugh about it, I would never leave my house in fear of making a fool out of myself. But now nothing that I can laugh off will ruin my day. Laughter is the best medicine. Whether it’s a little giggle or a laughing fit, it’s magic. It will brighten up any room and any situation. It’s the one true joy in life that everyone can share and experience together.

Amber Sandoval-Menendez: Reality. I love the one who searches for reality. The one who looks high and low for what is real and pure and authentic, not only around him, but also searching within him. For no matter how bleak reality may be, it is always better than the most perfect act. I love the one who does not hide. I love him who strives for truth.

Harry Stern . . . . Allow. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Hate,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Hate,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Ugh,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Fine,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Ok,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Hmmm,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “Hahaha,” went the man. “Bzzzzzzz,” went the sensation. “I love you,” went the man. “Goodbye,” went the sensation. “Goodbye,” went the man.

Megan Walsh . . . .Megan: Do you think the fact consciousness is only known to each individual presents a problem? Hugh: That’s a very helpful question, Megan. The privacy of consciousness makes it unavailable to scientific investigation. From the traditional scientific perspective, there appears to be nothing there to investigate at all. Yet we may well ask, How is it that there is any viewpoint at all if there is no consciousness? It appears that the very possibility of science depends upon a reality that it either denies or is unable to investigate. And this is true even if consciousness is not what we think experience it to be (i.e. a free and sovereign actuality). It is not nothing. Consciousness brings the world into being for us. It is the reality behind reality. I am wondering if you agree. If you do, what do you think the implications are for the question of free will? Megan: Wow, I really like your idea of consciousness being the “reality behind reality”, because I often find myself feeling as if my reality is obviously reality but not reality to those around me. I think free will is completely dependent on consciousness, because I believe that consciousness is what gives people the choice of experience, and our choices are free will. Consciousness and choice are directly related, therefore so are consciousness and free will. I have a really hard time accepting ideas like determinism, because I don’t see how free will cannot exist. If we didn’t have free will, then how are our choices explained?

Just wanted to say

Just wanted to say

Listening to you 

The other night

Talk about what 

Anything means

To anyone

 

Meant something 

To me more than

What you said:

 

I saw wings

And sky

And thought:

 

This girl is wild

And free

 

She owns the wind

 

And thought:

 

The sky is there for her

Even when it rains

Humanities 2009-2010

   

Sayings wise & Otherwise

 All are true.

 

Into the wild: All of my senior humanities students of 2009-2010 are telling their parents on Graduation Day: Thank you, Mom and Dad.  You did a great job.  I can take it from here.  True or False?

 

 

Kate Jackson Adelsheim: Man created time to his detriment.

 

Jeff Adolf: Love life so that you may love death when the time finally comes.

 

Basho: Don’t follow in the steps of the ancient masters.  Seek what they sought.

 

Ben Berling: When others ask you “Why?”, a true believer responds “Why not?”

 

Daniel Bower: On the day my death comes, I’ll take solace in the fact that I won’t be there to experience it.

 

Zach Calhoun: He then started screaming his anthem so loudly that even he did not know its message, for it had no base and was borne of inspiration alone.

 

Taylor Clark: I don’t like to shop, I don’t have a boyfriend, I have never fallen in love with anyone I know, and I like it that way.

 

Kevin Clauss: When I have a ball in my hand, I don’t have a single worry.

 

Daisy Cortés: What counts is what we do in the NOW.

 

Kynsey Creel: I like nerds. . . perhaps it is because of this innate desire for balance . . .

 

Erika DeBenedictis: There is insanity in perfection.  It lacks the vitality of life: the action, the push and pull, the troubles, and the peace.  Perfection is a stagnant sameness.  In the best of perfects, a little chaos is in order.

 

Niko Dellios: The Secret of Oceans. Like a surgery to free a blood clot, only to find a red marble.  To throw a stick in the gears, or a giant squid in the propellers.  Who’s not to say, “Miniature suns in the depths?”  The ocean is 100% of the Earth, it rests and travels the land, surfs its curves and fornicates.  And like God, we will never know its true thoughts, its secrets, or its warmth.  It IS God.

 

Kelsey Early: That’s just so mean!

 

Brennan Farrell: From what some might consider dualistic thought, I find a powerful intrinsic unity that defines my sense of individual purpose.

 

David Feddema: I believe every success is preceded by a challenge. Where there are successes, there are always more challenges.

 

Jordan Fleischer: By facing unanswerable questions, I not only define who I am, but get to know who I am, and I will continue to ask questions for all of my life.

 

Spencer Gibbons: The only way to understand anything is to experience life.

 

Ben Gilman: In the second chance, you try your hardest – not only must you do something again, but you must redeem what you have done before.  Because of this, it is usually during the second chance when you are most successful.

 

Ryan Hillhouse:  You want a miracle? Be a miracle.

 

Hugh Himwich: The doors of perception always open upon our own creation and we pronounce it good.

 

Kami Hornak: And if music is a way to let those emotions out, then by all means, let there be music. Music that is not dictated, but expressive.

 

Jack Ingalls: Many things we would hope for (free will, meaning, life after death, etc.) are not true, but we may as well act as though they are, because why not.

 

MJ Kawamoto: I believe that only through hard work will I ever be happy with myself.

 

Trevor Keegan: I believe in the strength and friendship of others. I believe that love exists.  I am thankful for it.

 

Jordan Key: We cannot fully achieve what we truly do not desire.

 

Li-Young Lee: There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy, to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

 

Matt Machacek: Remaining comfortable and living a life without challenging yourself is almost like dying.

 

Chris McCandless: Happiness isn’t real unless shared with others.

 

Dakarai McCoy: The joy comes from the beautiful melody that ends up being played out.

 

Darren McAfee: You can’t go anywhere without leaving a trail.

 

Ben Masserano: I will always believe in compassion, as a cure for sadness, as proof of the unity of humanity, and as the most important teacher one can have.

 

Heidi Meyers: There is very little consciousness in self-satisfaction.

 

Veena Patel: I hate to boast, but I have a beautiful cingulum.

 

Lauren Pick: I believe I can’t wait for the end to find me; I aim to create a great path that leads me to the end. 

 

Stephen Ransom: In “That Individual” Kierkegaard mentions that he despises writers in the media who write anonymously. He says that one should be able to defend their opinions and take responsibility for what they say.  If they do not write as an individual, their opinions are worthless, as they cannot be held accountable for what they say. As Kierkegaard says, such individuals should shut their “abysmal gullets”. 

 

Claire Raskob: Truth is only present when it is the most needed.

 

James Rosprim: I speak when I want to, sleep when I want to, listen to what I want, and believe what I want. My rights and liberties are my own. I am my own person. I am myself. But I did not earn myself or win myself. I was granted myself. Given to me by my fathers and my fathers’ fathers. Their blood mixed with the sweat of toil and pain to give me freedoms. Front lines, off to sea, worried wives, dying brothers. All given freely for us to be free. And for that I am grateful. And for that I am proud.

  

Catherine Simpson: Life is a spiral. You build on your own beliefs and ideas. In each moment they become greater than they were previously, and with each ring added the center becomes stronger than ever before. As soon as we trust ourselves we can spiral out into the beautiful infinity of our minds.

 

Chris Thompson: To say something that one does not actually mean or believe in with conviction negates one’s existence in this world.

 

Leah Trainor: If we were to find out today that we have no free will, I'll wake up tomorrow thanking my brain for being more interesting than most.

 

Michael Wang: Only imagination is perfect.

 

Corinne Watson: I’m looking forward to my life, because I believe that I can change who I am slowly but surely. . . . I believe that you can call me hopeful.

 

Walt Whitman: That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

 

Nikki Williams: The Truth is unknowable; our truth is a mere approximation.

 

Susan Williamson: Will I continue on this imperfect quest? Yes, because the mistakes I make are, in the words of Billy Joel, the only things I can call my own.  Besides it’s my ticket out of my comfort zone.

 

Teddy Witt: The only thing a man knows to exist is himself.  No one else cares.

 

Erin Wosick: I believe that every person, no matter their backgrounds and what they had or didn’t have growing up, has the opportunity to be the change they wish to see in the world.

 

Emma Ye: A mathematical point has no real dimension or meaning yet it is used to define everything in math. Similarly, justice has no true definition or basis; its existence and meaning lies only when it is asserted in our search for knowledge.

M.E. wrote me a poem

I've answered:

a poem is satisfied in it's unwords
and salty skin
it's stricken into knowing only what it is
sickly in the mouths of unpeople
it says
I am
and what I is

It begs for you to come back.
on unknees made of ink.

Humanities 2007/2008

The wise sayings that follow were written by my 2007/2008 Humanities students. At the end of last year I selected from their many wise sayings the one by which I could best remember each.

Truth is unverifiable.  Carlie Weiner

Learn from the past! Then you can survive the wild.  Learn from the wild! Then you can survive society.  Greg Allen

The great hypocrisy is life without passion.  When you don’t care about anything, yet you still hold on to everything.  Lizzie Bergman

If the arrow is motionless, then nothing exists. Rilke Crane

There are apples in the lemon tree.  Anonymous

If you speak to me again of “the way,” I will push you off the nearest cliff, since that will
be my way.  Kyle Leggott

Every thought, every universe, everything is a moment.  Jaksa

What is one?  Helen Wu

The body sees with its eyes, the soul with everything.  Devon Dunn

Effective moral systems require someone or something in a higher position that must be respected and obeyed, so that our inborn desire for our own happiness does not harm others.  Gram Hopwood

The self is experienced only in the present.  When we try to know it, it vanishes.  Daniel Lyle

The task is to find the balance between reason and emotion.  The place to start is self-love.  Desiree Patterson

Time creates, time destroys, time is an endless loop.  Brandon Smith

Beauty, real love, and music are proof to me of the existence of God.  Marlena Livingston

It may be impossible to institute the ideal into an entire society, but each of us can keep the ideal alive within ourselves.  Richard Zou

Duality is not enough.  John Derksen

In the process of dividing the world around us into concrete and narrow definitions, we lose sight of the potential truth, beauty, and knowledge that surrounds us, and in turn, we condemn ourselves to live in a world of empty realities.  Kiana Espinosa

Math can describe nature, but math cannot describe math.  Matt Davis

The very search for truth causes the truth to hide.  Travis Willett-Gies

In anything that matters, perfection doesn’t exist.  Colin Martz

Love, death, society, civilization, God, perfection, ethics, and it goes on.  Ever since humanity invented itself, it has been flapping its arms and kicking itself for not adding wings. Nathaniel Shoemaker-Trejo

I know everything . . . except for what is going to happen next.   Tiffany Perry

Though the world will tell you otherwise, the majority is not always correct and it is not necessary to be resigned to failure or to being average.  Chris McKenzie

Good people do not harbor bitterness . . . instead they forgive and forget . . . because they know that only thus will they themselves be forgiven.  Noel Deis

The master said, “He who has taken time to read the comics each morning will have lived a good life.”  Kyle Cooper

The time before time . . . was bent . . .to touch the time that was . . . and the time that was now touches the present . . . which is also bent.  Svyt Komogorov

It is by means of what we think and what we want that the world takes shape around us.  Wesley Smalls

To know what happened before time began is silly, seeing as before implies chronology, which could not exist before itself.  Connor Stern

Seeing requires your eyes be open.  Yet it makes no difference in the dark.  Rick Feddema

You cannot control what happens to you but you can control your perception of life and this is much more of a reality than anyone else’s account of events in your life.  Shelley Casey

The most impressive virtue of them all: modesty.  Terri Kurtz

Some believe we must give up our bodies to become eternal.  In truth what we must give up is our minds.  Richard Held

Why me, why not a zombie? Hugh Himwich

Don’t follow in the footsteps of the ancient masters.  Seek what they sought.  Basho

That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.  Walt Whitman

Happiness is nothing unless it is shared.  Chris McCandless

For my students . . . June, 2005

Mr. Himwich Remembers            June, 2005

There is a growing legend out there that I am forgetful – and I can hear Addie saying, “You are!” – if I am, and I stress the ‘if’, I want all my students to know that there things about each of you that I will never forget.

I start with Claire, who said to me the most precious thing . . .. that since I don’t have any grandchildren and it is unlikely I ever will, that she and her classmates would be my grandchildren . . . that one comment serves as the glue that has bonded me to this class  . . . imagine, grandchildren as diverse in their personalities and potentials as Clayton and Claire, as Nicola and Nick . . . . and with Claire come Brittany and Nicola . . . I have told Nicola that she reminds me so much of myself when I was an 8th grader . . .  the same happy detachment  . . .  Brittany, you are so determined, so bright, so charismatic . . . . I will remember how wonderfully and how badly you sing . . . . and Sally, I will remember our telepathic link , , , Did you go on that last adventure . . . it’s a tradition . . . . Sally, how many boys are ready to change eyes for you . . .  even now there is a would-be Ferdinand . . . . and Logan, there is no one kinder and more generous than you are . . . . I will remember how each day I would ask you to put down whatever you had in your hand that you were using to beat Clayton and Danny . . . . and each day you would contritely say, “Yes, sir” . . . .  you have grown, Logan, in your ability to read and write . . . you will continue to develop when most others have become set in their ways  . . . . and Brett, I remember your wonderful declamation performances . . . you should look for opportunities to develop your stage talent . . . . and Cookie I will remember your good ideas and your wonderful haikus . . . haikus seem to be a natural mode of expression for you . . . and Shannon, I remember your literary talent and, especially, your insight about Atticus in To Kill A Mockingbird . . . . perhaps Atticus as a boy had himself killed a mockingbird . . . . and Clayton, I will watch with interest your growth as a writer . . . you have interesting, complex ideas . . . I will remember in particular your insight about The Iliad . . . it begins in medias res and ends in medias res . . . and Ari, I will remember your wonderful declamation performances, your natural dignitas, and how you forgave me when you thought I was unreasonable . . . and Marguerite, you are a talented writer with wonderful insight . . . it may be that I really don’t get you . . . but I do love the give and take . . . . and then Lily and Bridget, the two Ariels of our class . . . . (I will get to the Calibans later when I speak of Nick and Nikhil) . . . Lily, you returned to us just in time . . . Your portrayal of Ariel was magical . . . may you too find your Element . . . and Bridget, I release you to the Elements with the great hope that you will return . . . .I remember how you flourished under Miss Haddad . . . . you need more such teachers . . . . and Carli, beyond the potato latkes and matzabrei, we had a deeper connection . . . thanks for getting us to the Holocaust Museum and thanks for your insight about the ending of The Tempest . . . As Ariel is released to the elements so does Shakespeare in the person of Prospero release his hold on life . . . and Catherine, who lights up like a hot, green fuse and makes every day spring . . . I will remember how you hated the books we read and yet had such wonderful insights about them . . . . I remember in particular the day Miss Haddad asked the class to identify the most significant line in a long passage in Black Like Me .. . and you immediately got it . . . it was “I did not like the way he looked.” . . . that insight was typical of many others . . . .  and Lauren, I know now how determined and tenacious you can be . . . you showed me . . . congratulations for taking on Latin grammar with the same determination that you, Mark, Craig, Nick and Nikhil demonstrated in that basketball game at the state convention . . .  and Danny, you and I have battled . . . and we have won . . . . I respect so much your natural inclination for Socratic dialogue . . . and Beth, you are a gifted English student . . . . when you focus your mind and energy, you’re the best . . . . as you become one with the horse you ride, you will become one with the power you possess . . . . and Annie, I will remember your wonderful art and writing, but most of all I will remember how eagerly and deliberately you invited constructive criticism . . . . this is a singular and far-reaching virtue . . . . remember to give me a copy of that last poem you wrote . . . . and Andrew, you have a gift for poetry and a wonderful poetic voice, . . .  I will remember your portrayal of Creon. . . .  and David, for 4 years we have worked together and for the last two we have traveled the same challenging road, sharing disappointment and triumph . . . . it has been a pleasure beyond words . . . .Jenny, I will remember how your simple friendliness and generosity always made my day better, especially on those days when things were difficult . . . thank you, on my behalf and on behalf of the others for whom you have done the same thing . . .  and now the terrible four . . . . you can’t escape me now . . . there is nowhere to hide . . . Nick is our class Caliban, Nikhil our Trinculo and Mark and Craig are want-to-be Ferdinands . . . . the little these last two know of romance would astonish you . . . . Mark, a man of few if any words, and Craig, an overgrown puppy, . . .  and everyone knows, Craig, you are not 6 feet tall . . . .  but I am glad to confess that it was my lucky day when you decided last summer to take Latin . . . Nikhil, what a wonderful artist you are . . . we will all remember . . . . and Nick, despite your monomaniacal demands for attention, and Mark, despite your mumbling, and Craig, despite your malaproprisms, a teacher could not ask for  better students . . . all four of you have made this a special year for me . . . thank you for letting me share your fun . . . and Ashley, you know how lovable and laughable these four can be . . . you whose writing is so pure and natural, who always understand more than I realize . . . you have that light burning within . . . and Addie, our Antigone, the one who gently reminds me of things . . . what a pleasure it has been being with you as you have spread your wings . . . and finally, Dr. B, during these last two years you have grown young with me as we have had to match the wits and vigor of our students . . . . .

and now a Homeric simile for the Class of 2005 --- as one who stands above the steep cliff at Capri where Tiberius had his villa and looks down thousands of feet to the birds of the sea circling below . . . first one and then another and then another mounts the hard current of air and catches the strength of the wind with its wings and rises up and up until, behold, each one soars in triumph above that proud height . . . so do I marvel at the strength of your youth and the goals you have accomplished

If you were truly my grandchildren, and I know I speak for your parents and grandparents who are here today, I could not be more proud of you.

For my students . . . June, 2004

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit. . . . . that is a quotation from Vergil’s Aeneid and means “Perhaps someday it will pleasant to remember these things” . . . and Plato believed that learning was really a process of remembering whereby we seem to learn for the first time lessons we actually experienced in the past . . .  I hope that these memories will be pleasant for you to recall someday and that you will learn from them . . . I could begin by reminding you of my fondness for Chris and how I enjoyed his feistiness, but I rather remember him begging for mercy . . . . I could remember Keith, slyly provoking Chris, who of course would react and be the one blamed, but I rather remember his love of great literature, which blossomed when he read The Odyssey with such attention to the significant detail . . . I could mention how many times a day I told Luke not to lean back in this chair, but I’ll pass by that because I rather remember the two great philosophical poems he wrote at the end of the year . . . remember, Luke, good writing comes from having something to say and YOU DO have something to say . . . and Abe, I will remember the twinkle in your eyes and your comically provocative questions, .. . . . no josh but jostles truth . . . . and Chase, I remember Saturday mornings – one on one we understood each other – and I will remember how helpful you were . . . like On the Day in Old Rome when you helped Alex Rodriguez fire his catapult . . . . and Lizzie, I will remember always the first poem you wrote when you discovered the magnetic board and how your voice grew under the care of Marian Haddad . . . and I thank you for always reminding me of small but important things that constantly escaped my attention . . .  Alan, I will especially remember your report on A River Runs Through It ,  . . . remember the day Paul found a motion all his own. . . the whole class enjoyed the fly-casting exercise . . . and Mitchell, I will always remember your ability to ask fundamental questions that seemed comical to others, but profound to me . . . and Ryan, I will remember how my appreciation of your talent grew . .  I remember you in Charley Brown . . .  how wonderfully talented you are . . . and Devin, I will remember how you asked good questions right from the beginning when you questioned the anti-Semitism in the Grimm’s stories. . . you were right then as you were often on other occasions . . . and Elizabeth Wilson, I will remember the day when I recognized for the first time your poetic insight, there was a sea-change after that . . . the battle of Harry Potter and the dictionaries goes on . . Lauren, I will remember your respectful challenges, especially the time when you questioned the method I was using to interpret poetry . . . that a poem may mean something different to different people, but there is still a way of validating your interpretation by showing how it works throughout the poem as a whole . . . and Madison, I will always remember how determined you were, despite being often mystified by our writing assignments . . . and Paige, yes, I do know you can be mischievous, but I prefer to remember your willingness to revise essays that were already very good . . . the way you went about your work was truly a model for others . . Annie McAllister, one of my best Latin students, I will remember most especially your growing confidence which allowed you to stand before the whole school at Declamation . . . you did a wonderful job . . . . Lindsey, I remember you in the sixth grade, you were in control then and you still are, but best I will remember working with you on your Odyssey story . . .  you had such wonderful ideas, it really helped me envision the last trial of Odysseus . . . Patrick, who rides the dictionaries, I will remember how pleasant it was to chat with you . . . your conversation was whimsical and sophisticated . . . you were never in doubt and only occasionally wrong . . . Do you remember how tough I could be on you? . . . I remember with pleasure how you never held a grudge . . . Alex, grasshopper, so often overwhelmed, so able to meet every challenge, . . . what a wonderful writer you are . . . I will always hear your voice “You need to put more energy into the class”; “you need more sleep” – and I remember how wonderfully mischievous you and Kate and Katherine could be . . .  thanks for showing me those hidden places in the school . . . I think there are a few more you need to tell me about before you leave . . . And Kate, I remember your poetry, especially your Declamation poem, and Katherine, I will remember yours and Alex’s Odyssey video and your strong grip . . . and I know all three of you --  Alex, Kate and Katherine – will remember my counsel – “Accept the consequences!” . . . .and Elizabeth Bobbitt, I will remember the beautiful curl of your writing, especially your short stories, and the strong current of your reading aloud . . .  like a river rushing out to the sea. . . and Maura, I remember your penetrating intelligence and darkly searching verses, especially the last one you wrote for me . .a father’s heart, a trickster’s eye, a master’s mind, a poet’s sigh . . .thank you .. . . and M.E. Cooper, I will remember your wonderful drawing, your playfulness, your lovely poem to me, your love of mythology . . . and Ali, HERE I AM – I know you loved that phrase – you will probably remember it as long as I will remember YOU’RE IN TROUBLE, MR. HIMWICH. . . and Ali, I will remember how finally you listened to me about how to write a formal essay . . . thanks for that insight about Shakespeare . . . and Annie Hicks, born out of time, did we know each other in the sixties?. . . no Albus Cuniculus for you . . . thanks so much for your whimsical insights and for your wonderful drawings . . . and Amy the Proud, Amy the Smart, Amy the Stubborn, . . . Remember the day we spent together studying – that’s when I realized just how gifted you are . . . Ashley, magistra, sodalis, snoopy, what you have given St. Luke’s is beyond measure, . . . da mi basia is never to be forgotten . . .  What great fun it is to work with you . .  it takes three years to build a Latin program, but because of you and your cohorts, we did it in one .. and Elizabeth Lyons, firefly, girl who stares straight ahead into the bright lights, remember when you told me “Don’t let them take Gilgamesh away from us!” . . . I will never forget. .  thanks . . .  and Evans, my prep school mate, things somehow always turned out your way . . . you will be homesick, but you will also love Middlesex, … where no one has yet heard your wonderful reading of Frankie and Johnny . .  and Emily Molina, gremlin, siren, asker of difficult and profound questions like What is genius? And What is poetry? . . . and you were right to not be satisfied with the answers you received . . . you emerged as a poet whom everyone respected . . . and Erica, I will remember your commitment to your beliefs and your family, it was wonderful that you are here to graduate with friends you have had for so long . . . and Cheyney, poet, instigator, writer of wonderfully whimsical verse and prose, you could be so stubborn, you are so talented . . . and Liz Biz, minimalist, the less said the better . . . or so you believe unless of course you’re telling someone that the best four years of his life were spent in first grade . . . and Emily Turner, I will read the other Harry Potter books as soon as they are translated into Latin . . . you, who know me so well, thanks for your generosity towards me and all your classmates . . . and finally, of course, MOODY, MALIGNANT THING, LOUD POET (I never said that despite what Cheyney says), you are a wonderful poet but I have one last piece of advice for you --Don’t write philosophical poetry! . . . . or do I underestimate you! I am sure I am in trouble again . . . and finally, Rosalind, who has always been with us . . . when we remember her, we know that what Plato said is true . . . by remembering we learn . . . .

I want you all to know that the day you leave St. Luke’s you will become my students forever. . . I came to St. Luke’s because of you and the affection I feel for you has only grown with each passing day until now I am barely able to let you go . .  . thank you for making this old man young again.

For my students

I walk with you through every day and  night;

you on one side and memories of you on the other.

For my students

Last night I dreamed of the Limited and the Unlimited and You.  It was as though all the answers to all the questions we have asked over the years were as graspable as wildflowers in an open field. I will not say it was just a dream. I woke up as usual at 3:00 A.M. and went out to stand beneath the night sky with all its wildflowers burning, a full moon in the west, a dying sun. And I knew the dream was true.  And now the stars at my elbow and foot are named for you. 

Home

            for my students

Gray eyes,
watch over
these young souls
and test them
so they become
worthy
of the wisdom
within.

Let them find
the flower rooted
in darkness
and a bed
rooted in delight.

Let sirens
lure them out
to sea
with winged words
that bind them fast
and drive them
from isle to isle
from enchantment
to misery

until one so young
should ask of them
a song of no regret.

   

Where the sound goes . . . . .

Where the sound goes . . . . .

                            for my students

Where does the sound go?

The distant bell
the laughter of children

the echo of these words
these tears
that to paper fall
like every drop
of rain

the thunder and crack
of lightning
on a cloudless day

the silent cry of love:
O love, love.

Follow the sound.

Follow the sound
of wind & trees
of every leaf
that falls.

There I will be --
in your heart
and you in mine,
and you in mine.