Everything is Art!

In the playroom at the preschool rolling a big purple bouncy ball back and forth 

with Greta (who laughs when I bounce it over her head),
she yells “Do it again!” and I do, and she laughs, again and again,
for five minutes until I am bored so I dribble the ball
bop a bob a bop bop, bop a bop a bop bop to a beat,
and Greta's eyebrows float to the top of her forehead as her body registers the rhythm. 
Then. “Can you get me a drum?” she asks, pointing up to the shelf of musical instruments...

Now, if a four-year-old asked you that, What would you say?


...


Yes means Art!
Yes means Today!
Yes means everyday 
following heart!
Yes means today me and Greta make noise,
and Yes means tomorrow, maybe, a tune,


Yes, 
Sidney makes “chocolate-crusted tomato cookies” out of playdoh,
Yes, 
Peter makes “a rock that's floating in space that's stronger than an asteroid,”
and Rita drives to Boston after naptime, 
Yes!
and Stevie draws a map of a house at the bottom of the sea, 
Yes!
Ari pokes a hundred little holes in his paper with his pen
and draws a warning sign that says 
“Warning! Be Careful of Dots!!!!!” in his own alphabet 
Yes!
Yes Summer teaches me how to say hello in horse,
Yes Saoirse is a kitty cat for the rest of the afternoon,
and Yes Maeve uses up all the tape making three paper telescopes 
and begs for more to make a fourth,

and Yes, I take down the bongos, 
along with the entire basket of preschool percussion: 
egg shakers, yellow bells, rainbow xylophones, 
red ruffled rhythm sticks, purple ones too, 
we clack them together, hit sticks, shake maracas, ring bells!
ding-bada-ding shkh shkh boom BOOM 
bada-ding shkh shkh bada BOOM!

And Everything is Art, 
Everything is paintbrushes, tools and toys, 
a crayon, a lion, a pile of wood, 
trees and sandboxes, puppets and masks, 
each a unique and ineffable Yes!
Yes! Everything is Yes! 

Yes! Everything is Art, power and play, 
and bop spontaneity, music and soul, 
heartbeats and drums,
the Universe an easel

a painting 
potential
and Everyone 
Everything

Yes! 

Teaching

What is it?

Bankers of knowledge making deposits 
into an empty head?

Or...

a conversation between souls;
art.

Friend,
where are you from?
Show me.

There are paints on the table, 
an easel, pens, pencils and markers, 
construction paper...

Dear,
where are you now? 
Show me.


There are so many stories ready for you
to use in your own,
so many songs you can sample from, 
yours to choose and bend
into your own
music.

(the second your hands are hungry for sounds, 
may they receive a guitar;
the moment you thirst for a life to nurture, 
may there be a garden for you to water, fruits to harvest, and mouths to feed;
and the instant you are most desperate to capture your wild imagination
or name your beautiful pain,

may a pencil come to your rescue...)

Learner,
you too teach; please,
show me what you know, 

O, World-Reader, O Soul, O Self, 
O pair of eyes, how wise your design, 
Beautiful! Truly, 
You are another - miraculous - me!

(and we
must free ourselves 

together...)

Dreamer,
Where do you want to go?
What do you want to be?

Show me;
Paint a picture of the world you see;

Leader, Human, Young God, Light,
Dear Friend, Learner, World-Changer, 
Dreamer, Dancer, Poet, Prophet,
Teacher,

please,
teach me.

Poetry

i speak my heartbeat 

on yr eardrum i drop it:

all people are poets 
and poets are prophets

(when you speak yr truth
god's speakin thru you
we were made to communicate 
and that's what we do --

yr voice is yr voice
and nobody else
can reach for it / teach for it 
only yr self)

so show what you know 
that is known just to you;

poet, speak Poetry 
and know it is true