A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

–Robert Frost

What is poetry exactly? To each person it’s different, just as poetry is written differently by each person. Recently, our school has been exploring the works of several great poets. Those include Robinson Jeffers, Gary Snyder, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Mary Oliver. In studying these poets, we’ve learned about their styles and played with them. We’ve been taking what poetry means to us and letting “our thoughts find the words.” So, here’s a sampling of the amazing works of the Nature Academy students!

*****

As the sun got lower into the sky I got a feeling of death, in that the day was retiring into night.

The winds from the west flowing in, the concrete warm.

It was that residing warmth that reminded me of lighter days and longer hours captured in the story of the stone.

I wondered and thought of souls past propelling themselves off stone and through grass and I wondered who walked and I wondered who talked.

I ventured on past and rested at last in the mass of a garden.

I sat, I thought, and I saw a sunflower.

I was at peace surrounded by the fruits of love.

I saw a shovel, a spade, tools to nurture, tools to love, and love they did.

In this garden I saw a cat.

I pet, he purred.

The cat reminded me of death in the color of his coat but not in the cheerfulness of his spirit.

He laid in my lap and looked up, and I laughed.

The day was done and so was the sun.

The winter won at last.

– Troy Nino de Rivera

*****

Grey Eagle Lake

Too much stress, too much worry

time to go to the mountains

see the wind stir the waterfall

I will go to the lush shore of Grey Eagle lake and submerge myself in the frigid water

I will find the sun ray that pierces the surface of the water like a beacon

I will swim and swim and not think

the thoughts that pull me under

Swimming in the water brings edges to my body

My body smooth and graceful

slides over moss covered rocks.

- Star Pendergast (Influenced by Robinson Jeffers)

*****

Cool water flows around my feet

Fish scatter as I walk

The sun beats down on my tanned neck

I am overheated

The difference between the temperature

of my hands and feet

is like night and day

There is no escape

from this orange monster

The Sun

- Galen Penvenne

*****

To feel free joy and grace

To love power and struggle

Nature is beauty

- Doran Wensloff

*****

7 Sacred Attributes Poem

You have seen it,
That lightning and laughter in
that uncle’s eyes,
and the kindness with all the warmth of the sun in a
Grandma’s smile lines.
You have felt them,
moving through you like electricity,
shared with your best friend
on a warm Autumn day,

and then they went away,
cold wind blew off the ocean and
the sky turned gray.
But you didn’t know,
those seeds stayed,
waiting for the right light and the right day

- Sam McRee

*****

The Redwoods and The Fire

Blazing and bright, the sparks like a sun’s snapping fingers.

It fed hungrily on the dead tendrils that lay helplessly as a fixture of the soil.

Flames licked the stars, craving their brilliance.

Like fiery children, they’re small hands edged their way up the bark.

Branches crackled, their green fingertips singeing off, engulfed in the orange glow.

The scorching heat carved into the trunks of the Redwoods.

And just like that, the land had returned once more to its original state of stripped perfection.

Without fear.

Without worry.

Silent.

-Alexa Nino de Rivera

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

- Carl Sandburg

by Troy Nino de Rivera

We climbed into the well-loved, brown van one hot, humid Friday. Rion said, “We’re going to make a quick stop to pick up something.” Knowing Rion the way I do, needless to say, it was going to be something outrageous. I would expect nothing less. While driving to an undisclosed location, we conversed about the ineffectual tactics of PETA. In the midst of talking about Greenpeace, we arrived at Rion’s house in Arroyo Grande, and he popped out to go inside. He waltzed out with a jug containing a fuzzy blob. Little legs poked out and expanded in eight directions. With a tan carapace and rufus-colored hairs on its abdomen, the blob became known to me as a California Ebony Tarantula. I named him Winston.

Rion placed the jug beside him in the van, and we moved on toward Reservoir Canyon. Anticipation was immense; morale was high. When we arrived at our destination, we saw an elusive mass of fur poke its head up out of the ground. Gopher? Mole? Vole? Shrew? Mouse? We took off the roof of its home to look for scat but didn’t find any. Lacking strong evidence we boiled down the options to vole or mouse but never came to a definite conclusion.  Rion ran up to a group of younger hikers led by Evan and passed off Winston for the day.  During that day, we noticed “spotted acorns,” which actually were California Bay Laurel nuts. We looked those up and found out they were edible. As I walked over I tried to dance around the vines of poison oak. When I looked up, it was too late. I was slapped at the eye-line by cold hard destiny. I felt instant regret. Rion took a water bottle and poured it all over my face. (When I got home, I scrubbed my face with Dawn dish soap.)

At the end of the day, a half-disappointed, bright-eyed, blonde-haired boy returned Winston to our custody. Winston rode back to Santa Rosa Park with us few live wires.  On the van ride home to the park for pickup, we started  Story of the Day.  Of course, the image of Winston in all of his furry-induced awe came up, as did whatever the shrewd creature was that we saw snooping around the ground. Just as all the stories were told and the moments relived in exaggerated detail, Rion  pulled up to the park. The group circled up on the grass for our final moments with Winston. Winston was brought to the center of the group as well as the center of our hearts. The first thing I remember was Rion turning the jug upside down and liberating Winston. We picked him up, put him down, played with his little feet, put him on our bodies, let him crawl up our shirts. An awesome ending to a well orchestrated day.

6/9/11

Nature Academy students learned about NVC, also known as Nonviolent Communication, with Michelle Madgett, who welcomed us into her home and taught us what she knows about NVC. Her teacher is Marshall Rosenberg. Michelle has been studying NVC for about seven years, but only just this year started teaching us what she calls Compassionate Communication.

NVC is a great tool to have in life. One of the things that Michelle taught us is OFNR which stands for Observation, Feeling, Need, and Request. This is what you do to reflect in a tough situation to help you communicate in a calm way.  You observe what is going on, you identify how you are feeling, you define your universal need, and then make a request.  Universal needs are needs that everyone has, such as the need for help, respect, appreciation, love, or compassion.  Something like “I need you to do my homework for me” is not a universal need!   Also, we learned that you have to be willing to hear “no” when you’re making a request of another person.

Another thing that Michelle told us is that NVC should come with a warning label saying that these tools are for you to use to be a better communicator.  You shouldn’t expect others to have these skills unless they know what NVC’s about, too.

Personally, I have learned  that you should come from a calm place before you start talking to anyone. If you’re upset, it will make everything worse than it already is. I also have learned that observation is not just great in nature.  Increased awareness helps you communicate better, too.

Everything that I have learned from Michelle about Nonviolent Communication will help me in my life.  I hope that next year, Michelle will be able to teach us more about NVC along with how to use these tools in our day-to-day lives.

by Star Pendergast

6/7/11

When I was thinking about what I wanted to do for my Nature Academy end of the year project, I started looking for things that I have passion for. I also talked with my teacher, Susan. We came up with me doing it on my hero’s journey writing project and the process I used to write it. The main reason I chose to do it on my hero’s journey is that I’m really proud of all the work I did to write it. It feels satisfactory to have it done and be able to look back on the work I did. Writing it was my own hero’s journey!

At the very beginning, we were given an outline that had 11 parts to it. They were based on aspects of a hero’s journey as identified by the American scholar, Joseph Campbell. I will have to say that it took me a year to write mine because I kept changing what I wanted to write it on. Sometimes it got hard for me to write it because I was having difficulty wording it they way I wanted and the way I saw it in my head. I was trying to write it to follow the steps of a classic hero’s journey.

The 11 steps we used were:

• Ordinary World: Here the hero is shown against a background of environment, heredity, and personal history. We did a lot of work on character development.
• The Call to Adventure: Something happens to shake up the main character’s world. Sometimes the main character refuses the call to adventure but mine didn’t.
• Meeting The Mentor: Here the hero meets someone who advises her in some way. The hero might also find wisdom inside her self.
• Crossing The Threshold: This is where the hero commits to leaving her ordinary world or her comfort zone and starts on a journey of discovery.
• Obstacles: Along the way, the hero has many challenges to overcome.
• Allies: Along the way, the hero is assisted by others or a growing sense of her own wisdom.
• Confront Major Ordeal: The hero faces a huge challenge that may even be life threatening.
• Hero Claims Treasure: Here the hero finds what she has been searching for.
• Begin Road Home: The hero comes back to a familiar and comfortable place.
• Hero is Changed by Experience: The character feels more mature, wiser, and confident.
• Brings Gift to the World: A true hero then passes on what she has learned to benefit others.

The only person that helped me on writing my story is my mother. She helped me with the editing. Also, she helped me keep the story on track whenever I felt it was going off course. My hero’s journey is about a precocious girl who is trying to find her way in life full of unexpected tragedies. This story does not end perfectly but does end hopefully. I am a more masterful writer for having accepted the challenge of this journey.

by Troy Nino De Rivera

It was midday in the hike by the time we reached a large rock face, impassable by any other means than the aging ladder that lay before it. The ladder was of sturdy construction for being as old as the sun-bleached rope lead me to believe. We were not prepared to trust it completely, as it was pieced together of nail and of branch. Brian elected to venture up it first. He had successfully scaled the face when he invited others to do the same.

Once part of the group reached the plateau, they decided it was too treacherous to traverse over land. A water invasion was imminent. I helped the people coming back down the rock face. Then by diplomatic means, the group decided half would join the water expedition and the rest would prepare a fire. The water crew left.

Those of us who stayed behind played games to keep entertained until the sun went down. The majority of the remaining group left to gather wood, water, and supplies for the camp. The sun was disappearing over the mountain by the time the water expedition returned to the other side of the river. Brian was the first to get to the  boulder across from the one on our side. He tossed his stuff over for me to catch, then tossed Cameron’s, then Isaac’s. If I recall correctly the most nerve-racking part of that experience was when Cameron’s stuff fell in the water and we had to go in after it. It was bone cold in that water. It was a relief when everyone was back together. Every backpacking trip I’ve been on has its challenges.

by Troy Nino De Rivera

The Buckeye Festival is a gathering  with all sorts of primitive arts experts attending. The experts had  individual stalls which were arranged in a circle. There they sold  their wares, talked with people about their particular interest, and at morning circle told what classes they were going to have that day.

Monday morning during circle, after they listed what was going to be offered, one class caught my attention: shoe making, a class going through the steps of how to make a shoe with the end product being a pair of handmade shoes. Since this class was a 4 day class and we only had a week, I didn’t sign up for anything else.

Daniel the class instructor started off by showing how to take the proper measurements from the navicular bone to the toe. This is the highest bone point on your foot and is roughly the center of your arch. From a rough outline to measuring the width of your foot, all sorts of measurements took place. This a very basic important process, for if done incorrectly the shoe will not fit. We made templates on paper and then used those as patterns to cut the leather in-soles and mid-soles. We picked out leather for our uppers and with a process called skiving reduced the thickness of the leather at the edges so it could be sewn to the shoe. If the leather is too thick it causes rubbing. Next we shaped the leather uppers and began stitching them to the mid-sole with what’s called a double  lock-stitch. After the insole has been cut and sewn, it has to be fitted on your foot so you can sew up the back with the welt (leather that gets sandwiched between the joined pieces of leather at the back of shoe to add durability.) Finally, you cut out a portion of the top to put in a tongue.

I was unable to complete the entire process even after 4 days of working on it.  I left it with Daniel to be completed, which was having the tongue put on, gluing on the mid sole to the insole, and gluing the sole on. All in all, it was a very enjoyable experience. The only thing I wish had been different is that there had been more time.

Written by Troy Nino De Rivera

It’s  my choice to come to Nature Academy. I choose to come here out of all the other schools. The program allows for a level of freedom pertaining to what  your assignments, projects, and everything else looks like. There is a small ratio between student and teacher, and since it’s a small ratio I realistically get to talk to the teacher more and have more time to work with him. Therefore, my educational experience feels less like a feedlot and more like an apprenticeship.

I get asked a lot, what does this all look like and isn’t there some sort of structure? Yes, we have structure, but it’s accommodating. For example, my  passion is primitive fire making. I love making friction fires, an avenue which I get to explore through the school on our nature days when we’re out and about in the woods and have time to collect and test and reflect. Ever since I was 13 when I started the school, I’ve found this love  that really speaks to something inside of me. But, how do I turn that passion into an assignment and ultimately into credits? How do I do something I love and satisfy my need for a good education? I give an oral presentation on the steps I take, the materials I use, the pros and cons of different methods, the reasons why I think they did or didn’t work,  problems and challenges, and  what I learned from the whole process. I then have a written piece documenting my experience, thoughts, etc.

I  kill two birds with one stone and  get to work with my hands, learn by doing, which is how I learn best. I also learn problem solving because, when I make a mistake, I get to learn how to do it right. After I have a better understanding of how something works, I learn what to do when it doesn’t and why.

Written by Troy Nino De Rivera

During my stay at Figueroa Mountain, I helped build the foundation for the aikido dojo. But my favorite time was after the work was done, and I spent my afternoon and nights at the forge. The forge consisted of an anvil, forging hammers, and  a manual coal fire forge capable of reaching 4,000 degrees. When I worked I wore pants, a long sleeve shirt, shoes, and a bandana for the smoke and to keep the heat off my face.

My main focus was to create a machete, so I selected a piece of metal that I thought would work. The piece had a straight c shape to it,  had to be heated, and needed the ends cut off.  What I didn’t realize is that the steel was not the right type of steel; it fractured along lines where it was formed together.

To forge one needs to put coal in the pan, light some newspaper, and crank the blower to give the coal oxygen to burn. If you don’t keep the blower going, the fire went out. The coal would not burn by itself without added oxygen.  One key thing to note is to place the desired piece in the pan so as to nestle it on top of the mound of coals and let it get red hot but not white hot. After it has reached critical temperature (glowing red), you put it on the anvil and hammer the desired shape before it cools. Wash, rinse, repeat until satisfied. Be wary as to not let it get too hot because you lose carbon the longer you heat it, and you can ruin the metal. So as few heat treatments as possible is ideal. Then you have to temper back the steel, which involves reheating to it give it back its strength lost in the forging process. I want to keep working toward completing a piece from forging to tempering and just get more experience with a forge.

Brian, Cameron, and I were the only ones willing to cross the ice cold river in order to climb up to the waterfall.  Crossing the river was the coldest thing ever.  Luckily, we made it across safely.  We started toward the base of the waterfall.  On our way we ran into this huge red ant colony.  There was no way around it, so we just ran through it!  We brushed ourselves off because they really were biting.

At this place of many waterfalls, we started our trek up the river to the base of the waterfall.  We found a little bear trail that got us up the hardest section of the climb.  We had to climb over a dead tree to continue up the rocks.  We were pretty much jumping over 3 foot gaps!  It was sketchy.

When we got about a quarter of the way, we found the foundations of a building that was built on top of a huge rock.  We had no idea what its purpose had been.  We continued up through the crevices.  We had gotten about halfway when we realized we’d have to turn back.

We went back down looking for a way to get across the river without having to get so wet.  We found week-old bear tracks.  Further along we found 2-day-old bear tracks.  We were close to camp when we found really new tracks.  The sand from the tracks could be seen on the rocks and showed which way the bear had gone.

We ran into poison oak.  Ugh!  So, we went back to cross at the same place.  I left my shoes on and swam across.  (You don’t want to be in the wilderness with no shoes!)  By this time, I really had to go to the bathroom but first warmed myself by the five foot fire that was waiting for us.  Then I hurried off to the latrine!

I felt free that day.  It was extraordinary!

It was a sunny Friday morning when I made my way to Chorro Flats, a floodplain in Morro Bay. I had the week off from school, and I was going to a nature program for younger kids, called SLO Wanders, that Evan Albright leads. I was joining them for the day. Once I got there I learned quickly each kid’s name and a little bit about them because they were so open to me being there. For most of them, Chorro Flats was a new place, and each new thing captivated them. For me, it was an old place revisited, and it was just as exciting. As the day wore on, I found myself wrapped in a constant curiosity, and I learned that working with younger kids is something I really enjoy. All of them had this innate curiosity. Everything new to them was an adventure to be explored, questioned, and learned. It amazed me how willing they were, too, taking chances to get muddy and wet without hesitation. When we had to cross the creek that runs through Chorro Flats, some of them went in fearlessly, plunging into the cold water that was further than their knees in some places. These young kids amazed me. Their minds were just like the floodplains we explored, except knowledge flooded them instead of water. The details of plants and tracks were captured instead of debris. They taught me that learning is made easier when your mind is open and curious.