TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

‘Ola’s Tree’ (Landscape orientation) A photo of the area of our property we designated for Ola’s grave. The view is from just beyond the enclosed area, facing back towards the house, which dominates the upper third (center) of the photo. It (the house) is prominent as it’s an ‘orangey’ brown, while almost everything else is green. The eye is drawn first, however, to the rising diagonal line of a rail fence entering the scene from the lower right center. Only one rail is visible until it encounters a round, vertical post. The rail is inset into an oval hole about six inches from the top of the post, which in turns shows it’s post-like nature with the skewed circle of it’s top surface. The up slanting path of the fence has advanced enough that we can see two rails continue on past the post (like one of the fork-things in the kitchen that look cool but only get used when the cook is trying to lift something hot from a roasting pan and you know whatever is being moved is gonna try and escape). Both rails extend to the right at an up-slant until they terminate in an end post. The rails and the posts are light-wood color (which means ‘once brown, now faded pale-into-white brown’). The undersides of the rails have the darkness that lets us know they are round (as opposed to angular). Thin dark green squares overlay the trapezoid shape of the fence section. The squares are very regular and once enough of them are detected, they connect and look like what they are, interconnected space manifesting as green vinyl wire fencing. (Think: a strip of bubble wrap, except not rounded and doesn’t make the irresistibly fun sound when you squeeze them.) The central feature of the scene is not Ola’s grave, which is in the left center, and shows as three quarters of a rectangle. Even though there’s a young pine tree obscuring the lower left side-corner of the grave which, in turn is a mottled sand-color rectangle with a light gray border, it’s not what captures the viewer’s interest. The center of the photo (or perhaps better to say, center of attention) is what at first glance seems to be a tilted pine tree with a prominent, if not narrow trunk. Following the dark two-tone trunk (light on the top, darker on the lower half of it’s cylindrical shape) up, to the left it finally shows branches, like the brushes used by chimney sweeps, only green instead of black. If one follows the trunk downwards, slanting to the ground, an oblong of light catches the eye. (Another case of a dark cylinder lit from above, the light doesn’t bounce off the tree trunk as much as it embraces it.) The line of this new section rises in an arc and then immediately dives back to earth. Now the pre-cortical brain is in full archetype mode…. snake? (“nah, too big!’), pipe stuck in the ground?!’ (“yeah, right this is a well-thought out yard feature.“) Dragon? (?! … now that you mention it!”) lol

Each week Josie Two-Shoes invites all to share whatever experiences that may have elicited a sense of gratitude. The standards for inclusion (of ‘Things of Thankful’) on a list are very liberal. Items, (for inclusion – on a list – in a post – linked to Josie’s blog) might arise as the result of encountering people (due to deliberate intention or frivolous whim), visiting places (familiar or exotic) or confronting things/events (both planned and spontaneous). The underlying theme is two-fold (ish): by reflecting on circumstances that create a feeling of gratitude, one is more likely to encounter it again. And by posting it (here in the bloghop) one has the opportunity (privilege) to see a portion of another’s world. (As the followers of the Doctrine will attest to, the more you can appreciate the reality of another, the more enhanced is your capability to not be limited by the time-worn shackles of ‘everyone knows’ and ‘that’s just the way things are’. We accept that we all live in a what is, to a degree, a personal reality and, paradoxically, it is only by developing the capacity to accept that fact, are we able to change in improve how our own personal lives play out. ya know?)

Suspect I don’t need to include a comforting statement about how this here bloghop here is totally ‘Freedom Hall’ and the only requirement for acceptance is good intent. Now that I think of it, ‘I think we’re all bozos on this bus‘. (Totally beyond the chronological reach of most, if not all readers, at least in the direct, contemporaneous experience. That last line is from the incredible Firesign Theatre. Go ahead click on the first link, it won’t be awful…ok, maybe confusing, but funny. I think I’ll make that Item One!)

So on with the show!

1) The Firesign Theatre the only true comedy album(s)

2) Exception to implied (but not intended) inference of Item 1, the albums of Bob Newhart. Now, before someone says, ‘yeah, but Robert Klein, David Steinberg and Albert Brooks, all funny guys, they had albums! What about them? Well, the thing is, what (imo) Bob Newhart did as comedy was meant to be heard and was, (still imo) independent of the visual element. Think about any comedian/comedienne, you watch them as much as listen to them, because they’re constantly sending all sorts of non-verbal messages. Very much a part of what makes us laugh.

3) (Keeping in the theme of the things of the distant past), shout out to zoe and her Six Sentence Story bloghop. The writers who participate in her bloghop cover the waterfront in terms of writing styles and, of importance to me, remarkable writing skill. That last is important to me, as, ever since coming to this place, I’ve been trying to learn the writing thing. Nothing better than to hang out with them whats got the thing you seek.

4) Speaking of groups of remarkable humans, lets hear it for the Graviteers! Val, Joy, May, Lisa, Sarah and Kristi

5) Una

6) Una Garden, Phyllis and Una

Phyllis gathers produce and Una stands watch. *(landscape orientation) Center left: Una sits on the bench that runs along the edge of the deck on the back of the house. Her body is facing the camera (sorta) and, being fairly close is quite identifiable as a dog. As opposed to other, more at-a-distance photos, where she presents as a shiny black shape with legs and triangular ears. Una has her head turned to her left, watching Phyllis who is standing, (slightly bent at the waist), between the ‘n’ and the ‘a’ of the garden. She is adding a green vegetable-thing to the yellow vegetable-thing in her left hand. Phyllis is wearing a blue tee shirt and blue and white striped (vertical stripes) pants. Rumour has it that she’s wearing her pajamas to pick the morning harvest. But, for the record, you didn’t hear it from me. Una, as usual, is a study in black, with beige forelegs and paws. She is watching Phyllis intently, as although our backyard is not visible to the neighbors, it is sometimes the rabbit equivalent of the local burger joint (veggie burgers, of course). The grass surrounding the garden is varying shades of green and a bit over-grown. The background (behind Phyllis) is comprised of pine trees which show as telephone-pole-vertical-trunks of a variety of diameters, cross-hatched with green needled branches. If you stare just at the trees, it has a decidedly oriental painting feel.

7) the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

8) (hey! what’s a reflective* post without a music video?)

9) * ‘reflective’: in this context, the word ‘reflective’ is what is referred to in the Wakefield Doctrine as a ‘rogerian expression’ (pronunciation: roe jeer ree ann) This linguistic filigree is the equivalent of the sparkling shiny teeth of the scott and the paralyzing complexity of (any) effort of a clark to explain the simplest of things. As readers should know, rogers are the personality type that are associated with being ‘a Herd Member’. The mainstay character of the reality that causes people to grow up as a roger is contained in a single word: quantifiable. (In the personal reality) of a roger, the world is quantifiable, understandable and… in that wildly out-of-left-field way that makes the Wakefield Doctrine the fun insight that it is, emotion, Yep! rogers exist in a reality grounded in emotion, yet manifestly quantifiable. Better take a run over to the page on rogers. (If you’re a new reader, it’ll help. Although, if you’re a new reader and you’ve read this far…. welcome to the Doctrine!)

Anyway, a rogerian expression is a delightfully incorrect use of a word, the ’10’ in the world of malapropisms. As a matter of fact, a sure sign that you’re being hit by a rogerian expression is the outburst of shocked laughter that serves as a buffer against the assault (of perfect incorrectness). Anyway, that link in the previous paragraph? The page on rogers will have an entire section on ‘rogerian expressions’. Try not to surpass on reading it.

10) SR 1.3

Click on this, yo



Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- STAND

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


Wednesday morning warm-up for Thursday’s Six Sentence Story with clever graphic effects.

Zoe encourages, harangues and coaxes those of us with a jones for new arrangements of words to get our weekly fix with the Six Sentence Story. The prompt word is our starting point, where we end up… that’s the fun part.

This week thought I’d try something different. (lol when zoe stops laughing we’ll continue.) Old Egg often writes ‘Sixes’ that I read as remembrances of events from youth; they are both poignant and very engaging. So, this week I thought I’d try to write a ‘remembrance Six’ in the style of our friend from Down Under .

(Hey Old Egg! Dude! Not as easy as it you make it look.)


Through the endless last week of high school, the hallways echoed with the dissipation of stress, as exams were over, nothing left but to hand in textbooks and wait to be released into Summer; even the teachers were different, losing the rigid posture of authority, and a handful of the newer teachers even acted like regular people.

“Hey, could you give me a hand with this,” the boy looked up and down empty corridor, certain the girl was talking to someone else, “I need help to take this banner down.” The very pretty brunette, (the young man knew her name was Cindy, but then again, he also knew the names of all the Greek goddesses and the maiden names of most of the younger, attractive film stars), who stood in the doorway of an empty classroom inspired surprise, if for no other reason than the fact that she was: pretty, a senior, very popular and talking to him by choice.

With the boundless capacity of the adolescent mind to extrapolate, project, and imagine, all with total disregard for reason and reality, the boy watched a future life unfold involving love, sex (as much detail as his limited experience allowed) and most of all, acceptance by those around him…all in the time it took to walk five steps to the open classroom door.

He immediately noticed the record player on the desk at the front of the room and with an uncharacteristic disregard for consequences, lifted the tone arm over the rotating black disk and put the needle down at the very first track; Sly and the Family Stone, closer friends to the boy who spent his life in the social shadows and alleyways, began to sing, ‘…and in the end you’ll still be you.’

He looked up and the girl was still there and she was smiling…at him.



Wednexday -the Wakefield Doctrine- (‘…of old sayings and songs from the mid-seventies’)

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


Funny, but I’ll still get to feeling like writing a post whenever a favorite song happens to coincide with my accomplishing something and, I’m relaxing with that odd, though undeniably right, feeling that I don’t have to run and/or hide. (see bottom of Post)

It’s been said that ‘Anyone who deliberately reads the Wakefield Doctrine blog more than three times, (or twice, provided the second time is by themselves) is a clark. Or they’re a roger or a scott with a significant secondary clarklike aspect’.

Why is that true? Because scotts and rogers as not in search of an alternative. There’s another old saying, ’round this Doctrine, goes, “If you have a large group of people in, like an auditorium or something, and need to identify the clarks real quick, just get on the intercom and say, “Anyone who would like to be someone else, please raise your hand.”  Those readers who just smiled: clarks. Those readers who smile and wonder, ‘Why on earth does he think that?’ scotts and rogers.

The reason? clarks are those people who grew up (and developed social skills, coping mechanism and life strategies to contend with) (in) a world in which they are Outsiders. As a result, they are driven to learn what they think they missed growing up, all while trying to avoid being identified as Outsiders. Not an easy task. Like fricken prehistoric lemurs, we stay low, keep to the underbrush and avoid the T Rex and Sabre Tooth tigers, all while trying to survive on a diet deemed insufficient for the surrounding massively qualified-to-thrive population. We dash out to the watering holes when the predators are sleeping off a big kill and return to our hiding to dream about a day when we don’t have to look over our slightly rounded shoulders. And yet, despite being the totally least-qualified among the quick killer predators or the over-sized grazers of vegetation, we persist. At times it’s almost as if we believe we’re at least as qualified to live as our cold-blooded reptilian ‘friends’. And …and! we display a tenacity and persistence that has no correlates or supporting evidence whatsoever, at least to any casual observer. But we survive. By blending in…sorta.

The ‘sorta’ refers to the most jarring of contradictions that identifies clarks, best expressed in the saying, ‘clarks abhor being the center of attention, but will not tolerate being ignored’. (yeah, I know! what’s an Outsider to do?)

While clarks are driven to learn what everyone else, (in the surrounding world of ‘real’ people), apparently has known all along, we also have a deep abiding need to create. This, of course, is constantly negating our efforts to don protective coloration. Sure, we can be quiet and not talk a lot, but then we insist on dyeing something blue. We can find a spot in the crowd, (at work, at the PTA meeting or the classroom) that’s not in front, nor totally in back, only to be unable to resist the fun quip/aside or smart-ass observation which invariably causes heads to turn.

Time this morning is running out, here at Doctrine Central. Before I cue up the music, let me say this: when you’re out there today, in the world? Look around and try to see the clarks. Wait until you’re in the company of a number of people, otherwise they’re going to spot you looking and will be in the underbrush before you can say, “Hey wait! I won’t do anything mean, the Wakefield Doctrine said I had to find you and try to get you to not hide.”  Won’t work, but you’ll stop and say, ‘holy smoke! they are there!’

One last old saying: ‘The Wakefield Doctrine is for you, not them.” All of the effects and benefits, insights and self-improvements you experience from the use of the alternative perspective that this personality theory avails us of, is nothing that can change or alter or modify the other person. It will enhance your relationships, but it will not change anyone other than you.

music (warning! very hum-able song)


TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘of earth tones and primary colors’

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


‘The Stone and a Glass Bird’ A landscape view (wider than tall, 4 units wide by 3 units tall) out a window. The elements of this photo can be divided into two equal right triangles. From the lower left corner, to the upper right corner. The lower right triangle is indoors, the upper left, outdoors. Dominating the photo, (by size, bright colors and clearly a risky over-confidence in it’s attractiveness) is a cut-glass window ornament. The bird’s head is to the right, tail to the left. The head is blue glass with a round black eye and looks like a jigsaw puzzle piece. It’s lower body, from breast down under to tail is a somewhat predictable red (in the Age of Digital photography, everyone’s an art critic). The wings are folded, the tail extended and the figure hangs from a round shape in the middle of it’s back. The upper left right angle area is of the yard outside the window from which the stained glass bird appends. The foreground (including what can be seen around the bird) is grass-green lawn. The upper half of green is divided by brown earth, a single tree trunk and the Stone. The Stone shows as an oval but with a ridge, forming a slight flattening in the upper third, while it’s lower half is smooth, regular and dark grey that blends into the brown of the ground.


TToT Time today! Thanks, as always to Josie Two Shoes for the care and effort and very hard work that goes into getting this here bloghop here out on the airwaves each and every weekend. It’s not a simple or easy thing, I suspect, to organize and provide a welcoming environment to a very diverse group of writers, bloggers and readers, as she does starting on Friday and running right through the weekend (and out the other side.)  Thanks J!

I often joke about how eclectic the TToT posts often are, what with the themes and the stream-of-conscious approach to something that should be as simple as 1,2,3. But, despite this, (learning to express my Ten Things in a simple and direct and yet engaging manner, in the style of Pat or J’s Journal or Jo or Mimi or Kristi) goal, I most often find myself following breadcrumbs, rabbits-with-pocket-watches and tiny, little cakes with lettering on their tops.

So, the question for today (Friday) which path to take.


1) Una: She has been exceptionally well-behaved in and around the garden. She found the soft dirt irresistible only once, and fortunately we were there to remind her that the garden was for less mobile lifeforms. She is allowed a short cut (photo below)


Una’s shortcut from the shed to the deck… between the corn and the tomatoes. In this landscape orientation photo, the plants of the Una garden are in the center. The letters that make it ‘the Una garden’ are not discernible. Except where Una is walking. She is walking towards the camera and is crossing the right-lower ‘leg’ of the letter ‘U’. This small section is brown as there is nothing growing where the ‘U’ turns upwards. Una is a shiny black shape and it is only in the variations in the black are we able to recognize her as a dog. Her face is mostly black, but we see it as a face because the bridge of her nose is shiny. It’s a small pointed oblong, like one of those ‘planchettes’ that teenagers scare themselves with, when playing with a Ouija board. It points towards Una’s eyes which are two, very small parallel light(er) spots. We’re helped in the identification by her ears. Two black triangles, her ears stand out against the shiny black of her body that follows the face. Where there are ears, theres almost always a face.

2) Phyllis


The end of last week’s work on the Bridge. Phyllis is sitting on one of the two beams that cross the stream. The beams are, of course, the underlying structure of the once and future bridge. The beams are light, almost white, boards beginning in the center foreground and extending up the center of the photo. Phyllis is sitting on the left beam with her legs in the space between the two. She is wearing a white tee-shirt that, perhaps in rebellion against the overwhelmingly green scenery, seems to have taken a bluish tint, the pale color of sadness that comes with the perception of the futility of standing out against the crowd. The two beams are supposed to be parallel. However, in the photo they can be seen almost touching where they end on the far shore. That was the reason for stopping for the day. The right hand beam is curving inwards towards the left hand beam. Loneliness? Fear of heights? A determination to get closer to a mate that the world has otherwise determined will always be unreachable? Hopefully it’s just that the boards that were joined to create the beams were a little off when the bolts were put in. Only time will tell.

3) Digital photography (phones and otherwise). Seriously, the ability to take a high-resolution photo anywhere, anytime is one of the true benefits of making it to the 21st Century.

4) Una’s Garden. It is coming along. The plants are starting to get all territorial and whatnot, it’s like the squash plants are totally indifferent to the corn! While not always sharing a letter (in the case of the squash, that’d be the letter ‘n’)


A Landscape of Green and Glass. Had Escher spent more time outdoors as a child, as his mother urged, he might have painted this, rather than the self-portrait of ‘An-artist-trying-to-look-crazy (-and-succeeding)’ that you see in the thumbnail (if you go back out to the homepage). Famous drawing/painting/whatever. A source of inspiration for a generation of college-aged clarks who looked upon his wonderfully skewed, contradictory and otherwise warped vision of the world of the Outsider and felt a little less alone.

5) The Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules) While all bloghops have rules to give shape and consistency to the posts, written words and lists that are solicited, only the TToT has the Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules). That is one of the totally fun and liberating things about this here bloghop here. While there are a few basic suggestions: a list of Ten Things, (more or less), about Gratitude (how you might perceive or experience it), everything else is kinda open ended. And that’s were the BoSR/SBoR comes in real handy, like. Lets say you have photos but are really tired. N.P! SR 9.328 (for example and for illustration purposes) says [in part] “It having been widely established and generally accepted that the rhetorical value of a photograph (or photographs) is put at 10,000 words, the implied equivalency extends to (the) application of a [p]hotos to any and all lists; In tempore illo (“have at it”)”

6) Simple, declarative Grat Item: I am off to work (as soon as I complete this Item). I am grateful for an occupation that allows me to have varied hours. Even at the cost of most of them occurring during the weekend. Control of time (and place (and circumstance (and, apparently, pretty much everything))) is big with clarks. Even when the control is mostly an illusion. (As long as we don’t tell ourselves.) Lets make that insight a tie in to Item 7

7) The Wakefield Doctrine. Among other things it’s good for, the Wakefield Doctrine is a tool that allows me to better understand myself and my current place in the world around me. (Serious students of the Doctrine are smiling and thinking, “yeah, that understanding jones that you people have, never ends does it? At least as a people, clarks rarely are bored. Unless forced into a place or activity or role that has less than the illusion of self-determination. Then it’s awful.) And the Doctrine, by reminding me of this aspect of how I relate myself to the world around me, makes things a little better.

8) A Bridge too Far Before and After today’s construction session:



9) A Yellow thing from the Una garden:


10) SR 1.3  Click on the icon and join us! (Tell ’em the Doctrine sent ya) (or not, you might want to walk around to the main entrance, nice people there….normal people. Quite friendly.)


Hey! Click here!


Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘the Mystery of the Missing Starr’ (cont’d)

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


Wednesday Warm-up, Stretch and Blank White Page Exercise.

I do this most every Wednesday, if for no other reason than it’s nice not to have to face that the horror of ‘the blank page’, (‘Apocalypse Now’ horror as opposed to ‘The Hindenburg’ horror). lol

Each and every week our host, zoe, says to us, “Excuse me? If you have a story that a) is of exactly six sentences in length and 2) involves and/or is related to the word ‘SCORE’, why don’cha link up this Thursday and we’ll have some fun with words and such.” And that’s the score with this Six Sentence Story bloghop.


After two minutes of staring at the elegantly over-dressed woman trying to hide behind her self-assured beauty, I got up and watched her reflection in the rain-warped glass of the window as she shrugged off her coat and looked around my office like a person watching a documentary about life in an isolated culture that had one word for outsider and twenty-eight for spouse.

I decided I needed the money more than I needed to go home and, gauging how she sat in front of my desk with one leg crossed, like a railroad crossing barrier, halfway between ‘All Clear’ and ‘Stop! Danger’, I knew I better get her name written down on something before I forgot why I was in my office at 1:43 in the morning.

“Alright,” I walked around the front of my desk and sat on the edge, pushing her crossed legs to the side with my knee, “Five hundred a day, five days in advance and…”; she leaned forward without moving and un-crossed her legs.

“The money’s not an issue, my ex-husband believed that the lack of money was the root of all suffering, he was a very happy old man,” she said as she took an alligator leather checkbook holder from her bag, put it lengthwise on my right knee and, leaning her right elbow on my left thigh to steady her hand, wrote a check for twenty-five hundred dollars.

Slightly raised eyebrows put her smile in quotation marks as she tore the check free, slowly enough that the parting of each perforation could be heard. It sounded like a paper zipper; I was fairly certain she did it on purpose, score one for her.



Previous installments in ‘The Mystery of the Missing Starr’ is here and then here (the second ‘here’ brings you back to here).


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