Dean's Message
Thin ribbons of fear snake bluely through you like a system of rivers. We need a cloudburst or soothing landscape fast, to still this panic. Maybe a field of dracaena, or a vast stand of sugar pines—generous, gum-yielding trees—to fill our minds with vegetable wonder and keep dread at bay.
- Amy Gerstler
In the Brooks College, or at GVSU, or in our wider community, we do not and will not forsake our students, and we cannot and will not ignore the pressing political and societal responsibilities we share. Retreating from the important work to be done is not an option, especially when the well-being and learning of our students is on the line and the future of our society and democracy are on the line. The stakes are too high.
But sometimes in order to continue, we need to pause. We know we need to somehow figure out a way to communicate in a civil and constructive way with neighbors on the other side of the political fence. We gotta live with them. We know we need to figure out a way to grind out our work and lives amidst the long haul of the pandemic. The virus has found a permanent home in our species. But these efforts take energy and we are limited in what we can do.
Teaching first-year students with the amazing Maureen Wolverton reminds me that they are trying hard, often struggling, and need to be encouraged to take breaks. This week’s mindfulness reflections in that course come—we think—at an appropriate Week 6 moment. The same is true for all of us.
After an exhausting August and September, last weekend Gayle and I were able to slip off to remote Beaver Island for two nights. We were inspired to go where the people, and the 5G, weren’t. And to see first-hand the island kingdom created by “King” James Jesse Strang and his followers (as described in Miles Harvey’s brilliant history, The King of Confidence: A Tale of Utopian Dreamers, Frontier Schemers, True Believers, False Prophets, and the Murder of an American Monarch). Coming back from Beaver Island felt like we not only left Michigan but left this country. In the remote interior of the island, our primary companions were frogs and snakes, both trying to store up calories for the harsh winter ahead.
A walk in the gaudy beech-maple forest of the Allendale campus may be your preferred form of “vegetable wonder,” or you may opt for a novel, or music, or fresh-glazed orchard donuts. Snatch whatever pause you need, as the rest of the world needs you. At least the best version of you possible in late 2020. Civil but difficult conversations. Unweeded farm plots. Phenomenal students. Building a future. All that awaits you. Take an afternoon or take a weekend. We know you’ll be back.
-Mark
