the future judge of the past

 

a burden from the past

it is 2026,

my father died in 1962,

my father was born in 1905,

his uncles fought in the War Between the States,

only called the Civil War because the North won,

my father was named for an uncle killed in the conflict,

for Daddy, this conflict was not dry facts,

but rather it was personal, recent, an assault on his family,

I hate to leap into that world

and imagine how I would deal with slavery,

maybe not with enslaving others,

but accepting that such a reality

was part of the natural order,

I wonder if people in the future will judge us

for persisting with the use of fossil fuels

and the climate change they inexorably cause,

our species always tends to crave more, never less,

and thus we create a reality

that can deny us even the comfort of needing to be a bit hungry,

we satiate ourselves,

and, in the night, wonder at our unease.

by Henry H. Walker

May 8, ‘26

seeing all students truly

 dispensable

I long ago wrote that a goal of a teacher

should be to make yourself dispensable:

like a crutch that can be discarded,

like a meal that is only a means, not an end,

like a hand up and then you're on your way,

many of my former students I saw clearly to their heart,

I could see behind their eyes who they were

when they let themselves out,

that part of them struggling to break free into the Light,

other students I loved just as deeply,

but I could not see them as clearly,

and I did not know them as truly,

it is tragic when any student

can not see themselves truly,

to me, it is amazing

when such a student perseveres

into finding their way forward,

the credit for such progress is all to them,

a seed can find itself on challenging ground

and it still reaches toward the sky,

such a transcendence deserves to be seen and celebrated

for the power of its rising comes because it is true to itself,

and to the possibilities only it can be sure to know,

true to the choices it makes every day

to live the best life that can open itself unto the world.

by Henry H. Walker

May 6, ‘26

a stumble, or a soar

 

commonality in difference

when I look at somebody's eyes,

I can often see past the surface

and see the unique microcosm

that is that of God within them,

a self that is ready to fly,

but is also ready to retreat from the leap,

I particularly feel for any beset with doubt

who feel a clumsiness within

that can lead to a stumble instead of the soar,

we work hard these days to open ourselves

to finding any commonality within our diversity,

whether it be from gender, or opinion

or the balance of our humours,

I am gifted, and cursed, with empathy,

with powerful emotions that throw me

into whatever fray exists around me,

I sorrow when I see the extraordinary in another

when it seems that others just see the contrary,

each of us has that of God within us,

and I want to glory in how well it can manifest,

no matter how convoluted, or obscure,

that path to flying can be,

I feel the potential tragedy inherent in difference,

until we can learn to celebrate how much the other is also us,

and then we can grow larger, and closer to God,

when we expand and know the other 

as maybe even better at being itself than we are.

by Henry H. Walker

May 9, ‘26

smelling the roses

 Retirement's Box

retirement opens up a box,

and any of us who get that far have to deal with what's in it,

the reality of transition, and our response to such reordering,

we consider how we organized our lives,

often with self-worth coming from our work,

the justification for us existing

because we worked to be of substance,

taking our hours, our moments,

and using them to act upon the world,

the acting, the work, gave us value,

it is good to be an instrument of God's peace,

to be able to use one's life in ways

that help the universe function better,

that drive to be of value, though,

can easily morph into denying ourselves rest,

value in the "being," not just in the "doing,"

our hearts can regularly ache with the tragedies

that somehow manifest and are beyond our control,

I am struck hard by the unknown, 

the question many ask of me and retirement:

"How are you doing? How is retirement?"

opening that box can be scary,

this transition from "doing" to "being"

can easily morph into still doing, still working,

though the driver can be golf, volunteer work,

into substituting another kind of work so that 

we still have the sense that we are of value,

it is a knife-edge on which we must walk,

to continue to give to the world,

but then also to give relaxation and renewal to ourselves,

it can be hard to let the driver within us relax

and appreciate the moments for themselves.

by Henry H. Walker

March 5, ‘26

responsibility to past and future generations?

 

so many interactions

did I adequately learn from Daddy 

how to live my life well?

each of our kids have found their own paths

to move forward with family, and with work,

and we are blessed with three grandchildren

who seem to be not obsessed with looking back,

and instead they are looking forward,

we hope to help them to ground themselves

with our gifts of lineage, and appreciation,

so that who they are now,

is consonant with those who came before,

yet the past is at best catalyst

to allow the genesis

of those who the universe has created

with their own perspectives

to forcefully interact with the world they inhabit,

and with the world each seeks to make,

as catalyst, we are not involved,

save as enablers,

our influence not clear, except in our hopes,

we love the idea of continuation,

that the past still lives in present and future,

each new person deserves applause

for what each does with their own lives,

the chain forges new links,

and continues on into indefinite future.

by Henry H. Walker

February 26, ‘26

on all twos

 

the upright gift

my lower back just drifted into low-grade discomfort,

a tendency I've slipped into periodically over the decades,

when a new friend asked me about it all

on our soon-to-be-aborted hike together in the woods today,

I blamed our ancestor, Australopithecus, for standing upright,

our backs no longer horizontal, but often vertical,

the lower back a weak link in our structural integrity,

yet also the upright allows us

to be at the center of our large world,

and to hold it all within our eyes,

allowing us to see the encroaching predator,

and also the wholeness that envelopes us:

others, the beauty and joy that throbs in nature,

the understanding and appreciation

of what can reveal itself to us

if we are upright, and look, and see,

I thank our first hominid ancestors

for enabling us to see the world

with clarity and totality,

if we but make the effort,

a calling I feel now is to stay awake

and notice the wonders around us,

yesterday I was called to my old school 

and its upper school musical,

I saw a fabulous show, and, 

if I hadn't stood up and appreciated it,

I would have lost a great potential gift

offered to any of us who come erect and work to notice.

by Henry H. Walker

April 19, ‘26

High School Musical!

 

transformation: the performing arts

Wow!

what a tour de force this upper school musical was!

as long as I have been at Carolina Friends School,

theater has been a prime way

for the individual to shine,

both in individual contributions,

and in what individuals together in a group

can accomplish collectively,

for then community is built,

the first plays at CFS were created

within whatever common spaces the school allowed,

or outside with the glory of space

and the limitations of minimal technology,

then we built a common space, the "Center,"

where the floor was great for dance,

the acoustics challenging, and the seating minimal,

in every venue greatness was created,

for the will worked hard to find the way,

the students at the center of it all, and amazing,

finally, a Performing Arts Center was laboriously planned,

and, for the first time, monies borrowed to enable the building,

this afternoon I joyed in what our high school created and presented,

High School Musical,

a vehicle for near 40% of their unit to let their lights shine:

on the stage, in technical creation and expression,

in the support of the vision in costume, in lighting,

in choreography, in the singing, in the music,

it is not the fabulous directors alone,

or the brilliance of the actors alone,

that created two hours of wonder upon the stage,

it was every hand, every heart,

that lifted the whole into knowing itself,

and expressing itself for the audience who completed the circuit,

the musical lived upon the stage,

once again the performing arts centered us,

and we are all better for such a transformation.

by Henry H. Walker

April 18, ‘26