Walking

My husband and I share a car, which means I walk whenever possible. The other day I walked up Manila Avenue near my home in Oakland. I expected it to be the usual walk of a few blocks to the library on College Avenue - nothing special, hot and boring. I was wrong.

Here's what happens if I use an artists' eye and really notice what's around me. Here's what happens if I allow myself to slow down and appreciate what I see, as in "Gratitude." I walked under a maple tree whose branches were quite low, almost brushing the top of my head. By some good luck I happened to glance up a bit, and there, hidden among the maple leaves that looked like upside down Christmas trees was a tiny, tiny wooden bird house. I mean S-M-A-L-L. No bird could ever squeeze into the teeny hole above the one-inch perch. Hung from a thin branch by an old brown string, the house shone with randomly spaced shiny stick-on jewels: red, green, blue, gold. The crayon drawings on each side reminded me of the scribbles my two sons drew at the age of one or two years old, and yet they had a purposeful air about them, as if a child had planned them carefully, tongue between teeth. The bird house hung there as if in a magic forest, shimmering with hope. I stood and watched it for ten minutes, amazed.

Nothing better could make my day, I thought, as I walked on. But a block further I happened to look down to my right and was surprised again. Scattered on a torn up bit of dirt and grass, stood 20 plastic dinosaurs, each almost a foot in length. They posed in singles, teams, varied species or genuses, as if frozen in mid morning battle or foraging or courting. The group had an intense quality like theater or film, as if some incredible event just happened or was about to happen; perhaps they didn't need their "operator" at all. Something here spoke to me of love and desire. A child longed deeply to bring these strange ancient creatures to life right here on this untended yard. I stood and looked for a while, imagining what it must have been like to live among a pack of dinosaurs like this.

Two days later, I walked back the other direction down Manila, wanting to check the dinosaurs and bird house again. The dinosaur world had been rearranged! I missed what happened! Then the bird house. It looked the same at first. But when I looked closer, another surprise hit me. A little green, white and blue wooden bird --no more than half an inch tall - hung sideways on the tiny perch, wrapped around and held there by yellow thread. She seemed so pleased to have her own lovely house in the woods.

I can't stop smiling. The hands, minds and spirits of the children who made the bird house and the dinosaur patch on Manila Avenue will keep the world going, in spite of global warming. Yes, with brilliant children like these, our world will be okay.

Spring Sprint

The mad dash to the end of school. The mad dash to the end of the fiscal year. The mad dash to close the books, plan next year, complete projects in the schools, celebrate, cajole, perform, write, submit grades, attend meetings, make props, send fliers, add, subtract, phone, fax, copy, staple, email, tweet, drive, load in/out, shop, respond to family complaints about why you're so busy; it's Non Profit Arts and Education!

Of course in the back of my mind is the global context, which could be named Bleak House. School principals are cutting their budgets. Grant makers' funds have shrunk. Costs go up, income goes down. Lay offs. Global warming and war exhaust the news.

But it's spring and the flowers are out. Last week the sun started to turn up the Bleak House lights, just a little. Metaphors turned over, and suddenly we saw the words of our students filling the proverbial glass to more than half full.

"Little did I know that although it was extremely short, (your summer program) would be a life changing moment for me – someone who lacked inspiration and passion in life other than indulging myself into eating, watching television and imagining myself living in different time periods. Opera Piccola made me see the world and people through a new perspective. Many thanks to the Opera Piccola program for giving me this opportunity to explore dance and trigger my passion and meaning for life!" ~Meisze Phung

"Opera Piccola saved my life. I was almost kicked out of school and really troubled You really believed in me ... you let me know that I made a huge difference to the company with the work I was doing." ~Graduate of our high school and intern program

"I'm still doing what got me started with you when i was just a little kid who wanted to be in the little play at middle school." ~Kenneth Foreman