Unlocking the Chambers of Possibility -- Antioch Commencement, May 1995

Just ten years ago this month I sat in the audience  at  SUNY  Cortland and listened to my son, Richard, deliver the  Valedictorian's  address  to  6000 people.  I was  overwhelmed  with maternal pride,  heightened by my absolute  conviction  that  I  could  never  do  anything like that.

 After all, I failed  Freshman  Speech  three  times  when  I  was  in  college  and  I  always get  collywobbles  every  time  I have  to  stand up in public. Asking a question in Town Meeting is a  rare  act  of  courage,  and  addressing  fifty entering P.D.. students ·isn't easy. But learning from our children  -  and  our clients - - and our  experiences;  doing  things  we never  thought we could do - is what this talk is about -- unlocking the chambers of possibility.

 In that speech  ten  years  ago  Richard  said: We have a duty to care about ·our environment, to care about the nuclear weapons stand-off, to care about seemingly meaningless wars  in the third world, and  to care about  the  lack of food and water for those who need it most. As elites we should  take leadership in righting some of the wrongs, the sadness and despair, the injustices  that  we  see  not  only  in  the  deserts  of  Ethiopia  but  in  the streets  of Cortland,  New  York. 

Could I ask any  less today?

My  text  today  comes  from the poet, Adrienne Rich.         She  is speaking of poetry: "I knew - had long known - how poetry can break open locked chambers· of possibility, restore numbed zones to  feeling,  recharge desire."

 I am  speaking  of  the work  we do  and I  believe  the charge,  the power  and the responsibility we have is the  same.  Our  work, in  this  sense, is  poetry.  As  teachers, as therapists,       as  environmentalists,  as managers  and community leaders, as parents and citizens, we have the power and the responsibility  "to  open  locked  chambers  of  possibility,  restore   numbed zones  to feeling,  recharge  desire.

What is there  is  this  word,  "possibility"?  Would  you  have  thought  before you started your  Antioch  program  that  you  could  ever  write  so  many papers? read so many books  ? drive so  many  hours?  have so  many meaningful  conversations?  know  so  much?  care so much?

Unlocking, restoring, recharging...only as  we change  ourselves  do  we become  capable of  changing  others,  or  of  making  changes  for others.

Adrienne Rich uses as an example of possibilities unlocked the story of an Hispanic  poet,  Jimmy  Santiago  Baca,  who, in  prison  the  first  time  at age 18 says,  "There  I  met  men,  prisoners,  who  read  aloud  to  each  other  the works  of  Neruda,  Paz, Sabines,  Nemerov  and Hemingway. ...While I  listened to  the  words  of  the  poets  the  alligators   slumbered  powerless   in  their lairs....language  was  the magic that could liberate  me from  myself.In prison  again,  two  years  later,  the key  to liberation  is a paperback  edition of the poems  of  Wordsworth  which he has picked out of  the pocket  of  one of the prison attendants. He  writes:  I  always  had  thought  of  reading  as a waste  of  time...Only  by  action,  by  moving  out  into  the  world  and confronting and challenging the obstacles could one learn anything worth knowing. Working his way slowly through  Wordsworth's  poems.  Baca describes an initial overwhelming grief over his loss  at 'having  missed  so much  of  life'. But then, that  'heartache  ...that  had numbed  me, gave  way, as if a grave illness had lifted itself  from  me  and  I  was  cured,  innocently believing in the  beauty  of  life  again.  ... Days  later,  with  a  stub  pencil  I whittled sharp with my teeth,  I propped a  Red Chief  notebook on my knees  and  wrote  my first words.

From  that  moment  a hunger for poetry possessed  me."  The irony  and the hope in this story  is that Jimmy Santiago Baca's  liberation  occurred  while  he  was  in  prison,  perhaps because he was in prison.

I want to tell you another  prison  story.  Recently  I  had the  opportunity  to hear Pam Erdman talk about the work she is doing with a group of men in prison in· Massachusetts.           She  talked  without  sentimentality or righteous indignation,  without  a  whiff  of  the  do-gooder.  She  talked  about possibilities. She talked of lying on  the  floor  with  21  men,  convicted  of crimes she didn't want to know  about,  teaching  them  to  relax, to be aware of themselves, their bodies, their  thoughts,  their  feelings-  unlocking chambers   of  possibility,   restoring   feeling  to  numbed zones.

The  program  uses  techniques  from  yoga -  they call it “ stretching” in Massachusetts  -  and  the  teaching  of  mindfulness  to  help  the  men understand themselves and learn  to  watch  their  thinking  so  that  they  can think  before  they act.  Teachers  and  therapists  call  it  impulse control. She told  about  the  time  when  she  gave  the  assignment  to  watch  one  thing closely in the natural world before  coming to  the next session:  a big, angry  man  at  the  back,  with  his  hat pulled  down  over  his  face  snarled  "That's  a lot of shit",     but came  back  the  next day  saying  "You know  what, lady?, it don't rain  a whole  lot  at  once.  It  rains  one drop at a time.  If  I  could  watch the  drops  in  my  life,  one drop  at  a  time,  maybe  I  could  manage  it  better." Or another man, equally  large, hulking  and threatening  who said,  "Ya know, the guard told me to come back, and I would 'av  punched  him  out  but  I remembered what  you  said  -  to  take  a  deep  breath.  I  didn't punch  him.  If  I had I'd      be locked up now".  Chambers  of possibility  opening up.

Thirty years ago this month eleven students in  Antioch  University's  first graduate program were completing internships, mostly in secondary social studies classrooms, about to finish  their  year  at  Antioch/Putney  with  a summer  in  Yellow  Springs.  Roy  Fairfield,  the  first  director  of Antioch/Putney,  characterized  the  infancy  of  the  Graduate  School  as  a move  from  poetry to power. The poetry  of  which  he spoke  was the poetry of  Adrienne  Rich , the          poetry  which  unlocks  chambers of possibility,  which  can  liberate  the  prisoner  even  in  the  prison.  It  is the poetry  of truth,  what  William  Penn  meant  when  he told  the  Quakers  to  "Speak  truth to power". Those early years  of  Antioch in  New England were charged with  the  desire  to  speak  truth  to  power.  Students  returned  from  the  Peace Corps to do at home what they had been trying to do abroad: to break down barriers of discrimination and oppression, to get a fair shake for  the poor, to  speak  out  for the planet, to educate  for a better  world.

In 1965, Antioch/Putney negotiated contracts for federal money to support Antioch interns in  the  inner  city  classrooms  of· Washington,  Philadelphia and  Baltimore,  and  recruited  teachers  locally.  By  1968  more than  half  of all Antioch  graduate  students  were  Black:  fresh  opportunities  for  both Black teachers  and Black children.  As often  happens,  the opening  of one door leads the way to opening another, and another: a more positive and accurate application of the domino theory than the one we were to hear so much  about  in  the sixties.

During those early  years  for  Antioch/Putney the federal government  was reaching out  with  financial  and  moral support which         opened  up  opportunities for children, for  jobs, for housing, for education. Now our government seems more intent  on shutting  doors  than opening them.   Those inner city ghettos  where  Antioch  students  learned  the skills of teaching in  the  late '60s are now riddled with violence, numbed with drugs, ravaged with despair. The progress  toward  envionmental  protections  won  with  such  difficulty  then are under the axe now.

The focus in Washington now is on how to lock up the chambers of possibility. We are asked to spend more money  on prisons, but less on  job  training,  education,  and  children:  all  the  services  which might keep men and women out of prison. In America there are more people per  capita  in  prison  than  in  any  other  country  in  the  world.  Military spending takes  more  than  60% of  our  national  budget.  In  America,  the richest  nation in the world,  more  than  25% of  the children  are born into poverty. 1% of all the people enjoy nearly 40% of the wealth;  another  20% enjoy  80%  of the wealth. There is more disparity  between  the rich and the poor in  America  than in  any other  country  in the  world.

This is not a time to sit back and  be complacent  or  fatalistic,  as  doors  slam  shut  around   us.  It  is  a  time  for  practicing   our  professional  skills,  the skills  of  unlocking,  restoring  and  recharging.  It  is  a  time  to  rage  against the  dying  of  the  light,  the  closing  down  of  chambers.  It  is a  time for poetry. Wendell Berry says it far better than I can. This is from

Manifesto:

The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation  with  pay.  Want more of everything ready-made.  Be  afraid to know  your  neighbors  and to die. And you will have a window in your  head. Not  even  your  future  will  be  a mystery any more. Your mind will be punched in a card and  shut  away  in  a  little drawer. When they  want  you  to  buy  something they  will  call  you.  When  they  want  you to  die  for  profit  they   will  let  you  know. So, friends, every day, do something that won't compute. Love the Lord. Love  the  world.  Work  for nothing. Take  all  that  you have  and  be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Hope  to  live  in that free republic  for  which  it  stands. Give your  approval  to  all  you cannot understand. Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he  has  not destroyed. Ask  the  questions  that  have no answers.

Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias. Say  that  your  main  crop  is  the  forest that  you  did not plant, that   you   will  not  live  to  harvest. Say that the leaves  are  harvested when they  have rotted into the  mold.  Put your faith in the two inches  of  humus that   will   build   under  the trees every  thousand  years.

Call  that  profit.   Prophesy  such returns. Listen to carrion - put  your  ear close, and  hear  the  faint  chattering of  the  songs  that  are to come. 

Expect the end of the world. Laugh.  Laughter  is immeasurable. Be joyful though  you  have  considered  all  the facts.

So  long as women  do not go cheap for power,  please  women  more  than men. Ask   yourself:  Will  this  satisfy a woman  satisfied  to bear  a child?

Will  this  disturb  the  sleep of a woman near to  giving  birth? Go  with  your  love  to  the fields. Lire easy in the shade. Rest  your head in  her  lap.  Swear allegiance to  what  is  highest   your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos can  predict  the  motions  of  your  mind, Lose it. Leave  it  as a  sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn't go. Be like the fox who makes more track than necessary, some  in  the  wrong  direction.

Practice resurrection.

One of the nice things about a commencement speech  is that it  is a  free ticket for exhortation. As  homework  for  this  talk  I  listened  to  tape recordings  from  the  five  previous  Antioch  New  England Commencement exercises, and discovered  -  this  will come as no  surprise  to  you -  that  we all  say  essentially  the  same  thing  every  year.  Sometimes  we  say essentially  the  same  thing  several times over  in the same year.          (You may have  noticed that too.)  We joke  a little about  v-sheets;  we invoke Horace Mann; we say  go  out  into  the world and change  it.  I  believe  this  sameness is  not  a  weakness  but a strength.    

It  demonstrates  consistency and it underscores the power of our convictions, the depth of  our desire to speak  truth to power. If your  experience  at ANE has  unlocked  some chamber  for you, whether  in  your  mind  or  in  your  heart,  take  that  key  and  use  it  to unlock  a door, to  open  up a chamber  of possibility  for someone else.           We can't expect to remake the world; indeed, that expectation  comes  from arrogance and leads to despair. But if because of  your  efforts  one  child becomes a  poet,  one  client  learns  to  love  the  world,  one  organization abjures the quick profit for the long term  gain;  one  town  plans  for  the chattering  of  the  songs  that  are  to come,  you  will  have  opened a chamber of possibility.          

Use  your  keys  to  open doors,  which can lead to rooms  where other  doors  may  open.  Practice resurrection.

References:

Berry, Wendell. 1984. Collected Poems. San Francisco: North Point Press Carini, P. 1994.  Dear  Sister  Bess:  An Essay  on Standards,  Judgement and

Writing. Assessing  Writing  Vol.1, no. 1

Rich, Adrienne. 1993. What is found There; Notebooks on Poetry and Politics, New York: W.W.Norton and Co.

 I am deeply indebted to Pat  Carini  for  introducing  me  to  this  quotation and to  the  story  of  Jimmy  Santiago  Baca.