don't lose the self in selflessness

The Platinum Rule

“Do unto yourself as you would do unto others.”

the Golden Rule inverted,

for the Platinum Rule is an even higher rule,

that the caregiver should take care of self

with as much love as the care for others,

the selfless can lose the self in the other,

and maybe then lose the wherewithal to keep caring, well,

I find it far harder to love myself

with the same lack of condition

as I love my spouse, my friends, my students,

I write this as I watch our bluebird house,

with five baby birds hungry and growing,

father and mother flit in and out feeding them,

the mother just noticed me and flitted away,

she knows how vital she is

and takes care of herself, just in case.

by Henry H. Walker

April 25, ‘18

The Great Fire's Aftermath

The Big Poplar

a year and a half ago,

the Great Fire roared over these mountains, 

particularly where the woods were dry

along the ridges, at the heads of slopes,

less so deeper in the hollows,

where, even in extreme drought, water lasts longer,

at the head of a hollow,

the home of cove hardwoods,

one great tulip poplar tree was not felled

when thousands of its brothers and sisters

became lumber and house,

maybe those logging wanted to leave it

as a bit of remembrance of the great forest once here,

maybe those logging noted its top blown out by the wind

and figured rot marred its worth,

it stands where slope starts to reach steep and rocky out of the valley,

a great wind roared the fire up its downhill side,

a char all the way up its trunk,

last summer its roots and circulation

 remembered how to bud and leaf

but I feared the effects of the char,

this spring we hike up to its magnificence,

the forest floor luxuriant with leaf, with flower, with fern,

many trees awake and leafing out with exuberance,

on the tops of the ridges leading up to the Poplar

the trees were gaunt, many lifeless,

as the Big Poplar itself comes into view

I search for new growth at its top,

a companion tree leafs out enough 

to confuse me for awhile

that it’s the Poplar greening,

the Big Poplar itself, though, looks lifeless,

maybe some growth on a few limbs, probably not,

a deep sorrow starts to build in me,

a great tree deserves a mourning.

by Henry H. Walker

April 20, ‘18

how full the glass?

The Middle Schooler

the middle schooler:

an incredible person

fraught with the challenges

of physical, social, and emotional changes,

just getting up and surviving the day

can seem like a victory,

the sureness of being a child

held safe in a parent’s arms,

gone way, at least for awhile,

the sureness of being a child

awake to the wonder within a moment,

within a belief, within a world that is stable,

all shattered by the double-edged sword

that empowers ability and disempowers sureness,

I love the middle schooler,

I see the wholeness of who each is,

despite the doubt and fear and hesitancy

that can plague every moment,

I am in awe of how often they can risk

and find enough faith to leap, despite the fear of falling,

this weekend I was in the mountains with ten middle schoolers,

each of whom is navigating a way through their changes,

each of whom deserves praise for how full each fills the glass,

and sympathy for how hard the glass is to fill.

by Henry H. Walker

April 21, ‘18

why to get up in the morning

Find the Spark!

Why get up in the morning?

Bill Turner looks at us, challenges us:

help another “find the spark!”

the reason to get up in the morning,

purpose, meaning,

the fire that can burn within

and that can spread the light to others,

then the night will fall back

before the rising of the dawn,

look at another’s eyes,

beware finding a dullness there,

nothing can be more beautiful than the self

that looks back at you,

particularly when the occupant is in—

in, and present, and ready to risk

placing one block, then another, upon each other,

in a world that seems to hate connection,

to celebrate dissolution,

I spend my life seeing kids

and helping each find the spark within,

releasing it so that the world can brighten,

neither skin, nor gender, nor self-doubt

should suppress the flare!

by Henry H. Walker
April 13, ’18

at Duke University Reunion, 

quoting Reverend Bill Turner, 

one of the first African-American football players at Duke,

who later joined the Divinity School at Duke,

mentor to Rev. William Barber,

a major current leader in moral issues.

the plant world awakes

spring is a-bustin’

the day dawns cloudy,

with some light spitting drizzle,

I meditate inside so that

word and idea and withdrawal from the wired

could more easily work on my psyche

than when drizzle annoys me into noticing,

by late afternoon the sky is so dry it’s clearly blue,

some bird solos a clarity of song,

mellifluous and imperative, a reality to notice,

the wind has gone away

but for a mild breeze from the south,

the cherry trees are filled with white blossoms,

who hope that sour, intense, sweet fruit are in their future,

the blueberry bushes parallel that blossoming,

I check the bluebird house in the morning:

5 perfect blue eggs await the sitting,

a sitting I think is happening by late afternoon,

as a male bluebird flies out of the lumbered house,

I water the garden of the first tomatoes, sugar snap peas, and lettuce,

plant the first half dozen basil,

note the first potato leaves breaking above the soil,

ready the way for Native American pumpkins

to claim their third of the garden,

the oak trees meet the clear light of the setting sun

with a light brown exuberance of growth,

as I head into supper more birds comment on the day,

spring is ready to bust wide open.

by Henry H. Walker

April 9, ‘18

the struggle

Duke Vigil, 1968

fifty years ago, MLK Jr. was murdered,

as if Moses pointed us to the Promised Land

but Pharaoh found a way to keep the Chosen People in bondage, 

two thousand of us at Duke shook ourselves awake from the slumber 

within which privileged America can hide,

we slept on the quad,

supported a union for non-academic employees, Local 77,

reached to pick up and carry the flag, as best we could,

to find how and where America could be healed,

our Vigil eddied, for the media lived the admonition:

“If it bleeds, it leads,” and we didn’t bleed,

except from our broken hearts

that wanted to follow King into a better world,

the struggle continues,

how can any of us be truly free

when our brothers and sisters of color

find it so hard to matter to many?

by Henry H. Walker, Duke '70

April 10, ‘18

Wildflowers: for the soul, as a salad bar

Bears!

mostly this week we have sought wildflowers,

our luck has held,

and thousands of perfect plants

have enticed us up valleys and trails,

two days ago a vista pulled us up a steep hill

where the Great Fire erased the forest

that swallowed the view:

a view that can now overwhelm me,

today was of bears: a mama bear and her two yearlings,

who stopped cars for hours as each browsed on wildflowers,

and seemed to enjoy the attention,

for us, the wildflowers are a feast for the soul,

for the bears, they are a salad bar,

worth a lot of helpings.

by Henry H. Walker
April 6, ‘18