Thinking about Death Prompts us To Live our Lives with Greater Meaning

In this powerful and moving TED talk, Candy Chang shares her New Orleans community’s most fervent wishes. Candy converted an abandoned, graffiti-covered building into a chalkboard wall with these words, “Before I die I want to ____________________.”, repeated over and over. Very soon, her neighbors had shared their deepest desires, and the wall was full of a community’s longings.

This reminds me of one of the keys to living according to the MOGO principle of doing the most good and least harm to ourselves and others. In my book, Most Good, Least Harm, I write about living one’s epitaph. To do so, we must reflect upon what we would want our epitaph to be. Asking ourselves these questions, “Before I die, I want to….” or “What do I want my epitaph to be?” allows us to more fully and deeply lead lives of meaning, purpose and, ultimately, joy.

If we extend Candy’s provocative, community-building, enriching question even further, by asking a slight variation on this question, we can add even great meaning to our lives: What do you want to have done before you die to make this world a better place?

With your one, precious, miraculous life, what matters most?

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm; Above All, Be Kind; and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@CEHS “How to Be a Solutionary”

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Joy and Wonder at the Detroit Airport

Image courtesy random letters via Creative Commons.

I travel on average about a week each month for work, which means I spend a lot of time in airports. Travel has become more and more challenging and unpleasant (crowded planes and tighter seats, delays, hours spent on runways, meager food service even on long trips, etc.), but the airports themselves have become more and more pleasant and accommodating. LaGuardia has a huge salad bar with lots of options for vegans like me; chair massage spas are popping up all over; and free wifi and charging stations are expanding, making it possible to work during layovers and not have my computer run out of battery power.

It’s because of these changes that I don’t mind long layovers. They’re less stressful than short layovers, during which I’m too often running a mile through a terminal with my backpack on and my wheeled suitcase behind me saying, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” as I race to make a tight connection.

Recently, I had a long layover at the Detroit Airport, which is my favorite airport in the U.S. Why? Because of two artistic additions. In the atrium in the very middle of the airport there is a fountain that I could stare at for hours. The plumes of water are like dancers, beautifully and surprisingly choreographed. But it is the tunnel connecting Terminal A to Terminals B and C that often fills me with joy and wonder. Joy and wonder? In an airport?!

As one descends the long escalator to the tunnel, one is greeted by a music and light show. The translucent walls of the tunnel are designed to look like a cross between a seascape, a mountainscape, and a cloudscape, and behind the walls are ever-changing lights in a rainbow of colors. Choreographed to the music, the lights illuminate the walls and ceiling, undulating, moving, dancing. It is a gorgeous work of art.

So when I am not in a rush, I stand still on the moving walkway and just watch. And no matter how far I have traveled, how long or arduous the journey, or whether I have spent a night in an airport hotel because I’ve missed a connection somewhere, I always smile.

I’m aware that the tunnel may be using more electricity than if it were simply lit with fluorescent lights. I’m aware that such extra use of energy takes its toll; but I appreciate that the planners of this airport thought to bring art into our experience, and that this art makes a world of difference.

Yes, I experience joy and wonder in the Detroit airport. Imagine that.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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Art and Humane Education

Image copyright David Revoy.

The arts are a powerful way to educate. In a previous post, I wrote about educating through drama and comedy. Today I want to say a few words about the visual arts.

IHE board member, Robert Shetterly, is perhaps the best contemporary example of an artist educating through this paintings. His Americans Who Tell the Truth portrait series  offers stunning portraits of historic and current Americans who have worked to make a difference, right wrongs, and “tell the truth.”

Rob travels the U.S. bringing his paintings to schools and teaching about changemakers through their stories and through a quote from the subject that he etches into each portrait. These stories and the power of these portraits offer profound opportunities to learn about pressing issues and how to create positive change.

Donna Simons, a painter in New York, has recently been showing her powerful art that calls upon us to consider what we are consuming when we eat animals. Sue Coe’s work also explores our relationship with animals, compelling viewers to consider how we treat nonhuman animals through disturbing and thought-provoking images.

I recently came across this work by French illustrator David Revoy, bringing a social justice message home to the viewer in a way far more powerfully and quickly than an essay on inequality.

There are so many ways to utilize art in the service of changemaking, and so many ways for art educators to become humane educators, inviting their students to create such art as well.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Tino Sehgal and the Power of Conversation

This past weekend I was in New York City offering a Most Good, Least Harm talk at the New York Open Center. Whenever I go to New York, I try to squeeze in a visit to at least one museum, and this time I went to the Guggenheim.

The Guggenheim Museum was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and is architecturally unique. The inside is essentially a long spiral ramp, surrounding a large open space, and topped with a dome to the sky. For the first time in its history, the rotunda was empty of art. Sort of.

On the floor of the rotunda lay a man and a woman, moving in slow motion, dance-like and without expression, in an endlessly evolving embrace.

As I walked up the ramp, a 10-year-old child introduced herself to me and asked if she could ask me a question. I said yes, and she queried, “What is progress?” We walked up the ramp for a bit as I answered her question as best I could, and she asked for an example, and then she stopped to tell a 20-something-year-old guy what I had said before departing. Then he began engaging me in conversation as well, and we moved quickly up the ramp talking about progress and various topics that evolved from that until he vanished suddenly behind a post and an older woman introduced herself and began talking about toys and then aliens. We walked slowly, pausing to just stop and talk, until we eventually reached the top where the “exhibit” ended.

This was the art. And the artist, Tino Sehgal titled it “This Progress.”

I decided to begin again. This time, another child met me and passed me on to another 20-something who disappeared and left me with another older person. Although I began hearing the same initial question, “What is progress?”, the conversations were unique.

The “exhibit” fascinated me, and I will be thinking about it for a long time. A museum and artist created a situation for conversation and connection and creativity. Observing the visitors, I noticed pairs and threes deeply engaged in discussion, all having begun with the question about progress, but all having gone in their own directions. I would have loved to eavesdrop on them all.

It was interesting to observe my own style as a visitor. As someone who writes and thinks about the broader topic of “progress” all the time, I found myself in a bit of a teaching mode with the child and 20-something. But with the older person, I shifted into an equal sharing of thoughts and ideas and basic human information exchange, learning and stretching through the interactions. This “exhibit” offered me a surprising mirror into myself.

When I left the museum, a woman from WNYC-FM was interviewing visitors. The Australian couple she was interviewing had met the child at the beginning, but somehow didn’t engage at the next level and so didn’t participate up the ramp. This made me realize that participation in the “exhibit” was entirely voluntary and required personal effort. No one would push you to engage in conversation if you didn’t respond initially. I wondered what this couple’s experience was like. Did they simply watch the writhing duo on the floor for awhile and leave?

The woman from the radio interviewed me next, and I enthusiastically described my experience. She said not everyone was so positive. One person she had interviewed described it as “bait and switch,” meaning you paid money for art but didn’t get art.

But for me, Tino Seghal offered me an opportunity to connect with others, explore ideas, self-reflect, and consider the concept of progress. I was a co-creator of the art, and the product wasn’t just the discussion but also the lingering aftermath of new ideas and questions and connection with people who had been strangers until we had taken the time, in this unstructured, yet structured way, to simply talk.

Perhaps progress begins when we genuinely engage in creative discussion with others of different ages and backgrounds, open to the experience of learning and being moved and challenged. That this took place in a museum is perfect. Don’t most of us go to museums to be moved and challenged and opened to new experiences?

How would you answer the question, “What is progress?” I welcome your thoughts.

Zoe Weil
Author of Most Good, Least Harm

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The New Yorker Cover of Barack and Michelle Obama

By now, most of us have heard about the recent New Yorker magazine cover depicting Barack and Michelle Obama in the White House, fist pumping in their Muslim and terrorist garb while the American flag burns and a picture of Osama Bin Laden looks on. I grew up in Manhattan, and The New Yorker magazine arrived at our doorstep weekly. I loved the cartoons, and I grew to enjoy reading the essays and stories when I was old enough to appreciate them. And truth be told, I felt a bit smug about my appreciation for this rather elite magazine that only truly appealed to the highly educated and highly literate. Yup, I was a proud member of that liberal elite so disdained by the so-called “red states,” even though the very concept of the liberal elite was created by the conservative elite.

This recent New Yorker cover, however, unveils the seed of truth that generated the disdain for the liberal elite. It’s clever all right. All those stereotypes and lies thrown Obama’s way this past year all artistically executed in one cartoon. The New Yorker so elite it can show the rest of the world their prejudices and fears all in one fell swoop of a cover. But at what cost? For whom was that cover drawn? For the liberal elite to laugh at the silly racism, bigotry, and fear of the less educated masses? To discuss at art openings in Tribeca?

Barack Obama represents a historical tide change that so many people have worked so hard to achieve. The New Yorker subtly diminished that achievement, leaving us to ponder why we don’t want to continue the effort to break down persistent forms of bigotry, rather than reinforce them.

~ Zoe

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