-the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘walking through the streets of Soho in the rain’

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

weber

Way to go on the old-school Post title, non?

There was a time when the slightest impinging of random song lyrics, the chance, overheard comment or too-late-on-the-remote-control, intriguing/aggravating/incomprehensible TV commercial would send me racing to the keyboard, here at the Wakefield Doctrine. A simpler time, one might say. A time with a more words than time. It was a time not only of learning, it was having that magical, hardly-ever-directly-observed positive feedback loop being established, the fun of lining up nouns, verbs and objects. Sorta like trying to build a house out of legos, in the dark. The real magic was in the lack of old perspective, the one that would have held forth in a kindly, if not stern manner, “This medium, it is all of the written word, the rhetoric and grammar. What of this do you know how to do?” (I totally got lucky).

There was simply a knowledge, a tip-of-the-iceberg understanding of this Wakefield Doctrine, that I was certain needed to be presented, explained, illustrated and defined. It was pretty fricken amazing. It still is. There has never been a moment of, “aww, man! Do I have to write another Doctrine post? I’ve given them enough examples, detailed information, I’ve done my part.” Never once.

This blog and the path that has opened up, like flipping a switch that turns on every light in one room and one small light in the next, adjoining room, has produced more than I’ve put in.

Sense of direction. You know, when I’m actually paying attention, I know my direction. And I don’t like the feeling of not knowing where I am. At all. So..is it the dislike “lack” of knowing where they are that compels clarks to always want to know? Or is it that we’re born with an excellent, innate sense of direction that, no matter where we are in the universe, if we concentrate, we’ll know where we are relative to everything else?

Did someone say, ‘lets respond to a Comment from a previous post?’

As Friend of the Doctrine, Cynthia so aptly writes, “…we’ll know where we are relative to everything else?” What an excellent lead in to the simplest of descriptions of the ‘purpose’ (aka ‘highest and best use’), of this here Doctrine here. The goal, (the) outcome of one’s use of the Wakefield Doctrine is, ‘to better gain a better appreciation of how we relate ourselves to the world around us.’*

The Wakefield Doctrine offers a perspective on the people, places and things in our world, around us. By adopting this view, not only do we gain an enhanced insight into the motives and methods of the people who populate our days, we are in a position to know them better than they know themselves. And…and! we acquire a certain (don’t tell them I said this), capacity to predict their next action, follow-up reaction and general behavior. Lets see them folks at the Oscar Meyer Briggs give you that (Oscar Meyer-Briggs motto: “hell, this is all self-induced subjective wisdom, so here’s a bunch of letters, knock yerselfs out.”)

Learn the characteristic of the three worldviews (aka personality types) and pay attention to your surroundings today. If you see someone with bad posture, exotic decorations and sly sense of humor, think ‘Outsider/clark‘. When a sole voice rises above the normal conversational din and the people in the supermarket move like iron filings around a magnet, consider ‘Predator/scott‘ (‘keep your hands inside the car and do not engage in eye contact’) and, finally, as the day wears down, the ‘tocks’ no longer hanging on the coattails of the last ‘tick’ and you hear a friendly voice saying anything that employs the word ‘feeling’, look alive, you are about to meet a ‘Member of the Herd/roger

You’ll be surprised, (and possibly, a little creeped-out), by how closely the behavior of these people, (doesn’t matter if you meet them in a Maryland coastal community that is the setting of a serial novel, as Crisfield Maryland is or the totally made-up Midwestern town of Circe, that forms a central point in a wonderful post-telling of the L Frank Baum tale of a girl from Kansas), conforms to this here Doctrine here. Mandatory warning: If you persist and learn what needs to be learned here, there will come a time when you will stop and say, ‘My god! He’s such a roger!’ or ‘What a scott, no wonder she’s always been a friend.’ The warning is not that you will recognize the personality types. The warning is that, once you’ve begun to see the clarks, scotts and rogers in your life, you may be unable to not see the clarks, scotts and rogers in your life.

Well. That’s it for our faux Monday post. How about I post the song that provided our subtitle today? (As Tony Montana said, ‘It is my gift to you.’)

* I always add the same comment/footnote: note that the words were not, “…how we relate to the world around us.” The words were “…how we relate ourselves to the world around us.” Totally big difference, ya know?

Share

TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine- (not overly coherent, but I detect a certain theme)

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

20170528_085806 20170528_085807

Lets do an all photo/video TToT. If properly done, each will need no introduction or explanation.

Lets know that all depicted above (and below), inspire, incite or otherwise encourage the state of gratitude. And, being the Ten Things of Thankful bloghop, that’s kind of our thing here. The basic starter Item: Josie Two Shoes for hosting this here bloghop here each, and every week. Not an easy, simple task. We are grateful.

20170527_071608

Rabbit and Lawn. A rabbit in mid-step, showing the length of its body as it steps forwards on its front paws. The green of the lawn is made up of a mix of vertical blades of grass and flat, petals of clover-like weeds. The clover shows as a light green (reflecting more light, of course), the grass in-between a darker shade. The rabbit is mostly a light brown. The variations in color: a dark, rather large eye (we’re seeing it in profile) that is ringed with a lighter, almost white fur. The back is brown with light spots, the tail, contrary to what the adults swore was an accurate description in their bedtime stores, is neither fluffy nor very white. (In their defense, you can see a slight edge of white on the back part of the rounded protrusion of the rabbit’s tail. I supposed we can permit the adults a certain poetic license with their description)

2)

20170527_080025_001

A cairn and a ‘U’ Here we see the capital ‘U’ of the garden, an un-smooth brown against the mottled green of the weedy lawn. To the top left of the ‘U’ is a pile of rocks, looking decidedly deliberate. These are the stones dug from the ground as part of the ‘soil reclamation’ process. (As Thoreau wrote, “what stony earth, our mother natures bosom conceals, life must be bought with toil and hope.’ from the Aching Back Chronicles 1859)

3)

20170527_080159

Dog Leaping towards Deck. To the left center we see Una in mid-leap as she transitions from the lawn to the deck in the backyard. The top half of the photo is green (the same mix of clover-looking green things and regular grass), the lower half is the deck which is a beige-brown (at the risk of redundancy) Though you have to look close, you can see that Una has her front paws off the ground. Her coloring is mostly black, her fore legs are a sable-brown and your can see they are bent (looking kinda narrow ovals) and you just make out the light brow eyebrows as she focuses on her landing. This coloring accounts for the number of times Phyllis or I will stand in the living room and ask where the dog is, while she sits on the couch, eyes barely open, laughing at the un-perceptive humans.

4)garden planted

20170528_153230

5) garden labeled

20170528_155816

6) Una, the Dog of Plant Destiny cruises the garden

20170528_153004(0)

7)

8) the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers), of course.

9)Ok… I tried to do a video yesterday of the road to Weekapaug, but all you would see would be the door pillar and some bushes. I’ll go out on a limb and decided, even with how cool the Wakefield Doctrine is, 3 minutes of me talking and (you) staring at the passenger-side visor in my car would not be as enjoyable as this video from way, long ago.

10) SR 1.3

Kr6j62f-8

(uh…go ahead and click on the pitcha, it’ll take ya to the party)

Share

Sic Sent Sto -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

Stringing-skate

Way early start on the ‘warm-up’ section of this week’s Six Sentence Story. That it helps to write something/anything on this page prior to having to write words on this page, is not in question. If there is, (a question), it would be, ‘What is the shelf-life of story ideas?’ I am loath to start writing a Six, knowing that there is not enough time (or pressure) to complete it into publishable form, were I to attempt to write it now, on this Wednesday morning. (I just laughed at myself. I am one of those people who, prior to becoming hooked by the blogging bug, was of the opinion that the whole internet/blogging thing was nothing more than a can of spray paint and a virtual bridge abutment …in a nicely middle class neighborhood (“For a great recipe for brownies call….” Bloggers Rule!”  “OMG the breakfast I had this morning was so good, it was…”). Not exactly thug, but certainly sharing the desperate passion of the under-appreciated.)

Well, that certainly sets an uplifting tone for this week’s Six. zoe, in her finite wisdom, has deemed that the word we must create a story of six (and only six) sentence around, over, under, sideways, down… ( lol )  with the prompt word:

 

Master.

The mist that swaddled the commercial fishing port, like pristine cotton under an engagement ring, burned off as the men began their work, the morning air was tinted with the cloying perfume of diesel exhaust and Dunkin Donuts coffee; with the fleet out, the pier felt spacious, in contrast to when, upon their return, the narrow planked corridor would be hemmed in by the great, steel trawlers, secured to the pilings like clockwork dragons.

“Every guild follows the same time-honored tradition of handing down, from one generation to the next, the skills and techniques refined by those who practice their craft,” Sven Sorenson, like the dim silhouette of a priest in a confessional, spoke through a curtain of cigarette smoke, his hands never ceased their movement, a lifetime of practice made the necessity of watching what he was doing laughably un-necessary.

“I’ve worked hard, done everything you’ve told me to do,” the young man spoke as he rolled the barrel of strung bait down the dock and returned with an empty one just in time to be under the twine-strung-skates as Sven let it drop from his hands, “it’s been five years I’ve stood with you, learning to string bait, yet my friends from high school have all advanced in their trades; Billy Framingham is now a master carpenter and, even Scotty Gauss, who started in his apprenticeship a full year after I did, he now can call himself a master electrician!”

Sven stared, out beyond the granite-block sea wall that protected the harbor, towards the open ocean and tried to remember the simple joy of youth, the need to be in motion, to push against the world, and turning slightly, looked at the young man who came to him with un-scarred hands and the dream of joining his guild, and wondered if there was ever a time he’d looked so guileless.

“You are correct Stephen, the time has come, the traditions of our guild require that, once the master has taught his apprentice all he knows of the craft of baiting and adjudges him worthy, must promote him from Apprentice, so from this day forward you may proudly proclaim…”

Interrupting with the guileless exuberance that takes perspective as the price of enthusiasm, the young man threw up his arms and shouted at boat full of tourists, just passing by the working docks, on their cruise of the fishing port, “Today I am a …!!!!”*

 

 

 

* note: this Six Sentence Story, through the right of this-is-fun-as-a-writing-exercise-too, is my effort to re-tell a timeless joke. Well, timeless among a certain gender. It was one of a pantheon of what adult referred to as off-color and boys called ‘wicked funny’, jokes meant to welcome it’s…. members into adulthood…. as soon as we could be convinced to give up adolescence, of course.

Share

TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine- Saturday

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

20170520_140303

Una stands guard. The bottom third of the photo shows 3/4s of the letter ‘a’, the dirt making up the left and top curves of the letter have been dug out. To the bottom right is a rusted-red wheel barrow, the handles pointing back towards the camera, there are black grips on the ends of the handles. There is dirt in the wheelbarrow, it is brown and has lighter brown clumps for stuck-together soil. Leaning against the front left edge of the wheel barrow is a shovel. The working end of the shovel is in the trench that forms the letter, it is leaning at an angle like if you raised your left arm from against your side out, maybe eighteen inches. The shaft of the shovel is red and the end has a black rubber grip. The middle and top of the photo are of the letter ‘n’ and ‘U’ (we’re at the bottom of the word looking up). There is a certain black dog sitting guard. Una is facing away from the camera and sitting upright on her hind quarters at the inside top of the letter ‘n’. Her coat is lighter black on her back, shiny and her tail shows out behind her.

You know, I’m coming to appreciate how much reality is a process, as opposed to a product. (The latter supposition underlies the remarkable perseverance and the near-tragic inability to capitalize on the passing good fortune that most clarks encounter with a frequency that would make a pessimist doubtful and optimist suddenly agnostic).

In any event, this is the Wakefield Doctrine’s TToT post. Hosted by Josie every weekend, we’re all invited to contribute and/or share examples of the people, places and things that have caused us to feel the emotion of gratitude. It, (this bloghop), is fun and interesting. Many correspondents are remarkably skilled in (the) concise, orderly and direct presentation of their experiences. These writers have that gift of conveying, in simple terms, complex emotional experiences. Fortunately there is also room for those of us for whom the challenge of conveying emotion is all too daunting; by predisposition, mood or predominant worldview, we find the emotional side of the world something of a cypher. Relating an experience of gratitude can often be difficult, as we are usually not always paying attention to that side of the psyche.

Enough of the introspection. You want Ten Things that make me say, ‘hey! that was interesting.*’ Here:

1)  So, you’re thinking, ‘Sure you’re saying you’re a clark. Last week’s instance of the story of digging a lot of dirt out of the ground and moving it from place to place was fun, and certainly suggestive of one born to the reality of the Outsider, but we want more proof.”  Well, here is the wheelbarrow I’ve been using for the Una garden project. (It was a gift from Phyllis’s father when we bought the house in 1990. It, the wheelbarrow, was getting a bit old then.)

20170520_143923

old metal wheelbarrow. it’s body torn from metal fatigue, the single wheel at an angle out of true.

 

2, 3 and 4): (i.e. My work / coastal community / me to drive around.

5)Home and Heart (a Sister Margaret Ryan novel)’. Chapter 9 will be out tomorrow morning, at the latest. (Teaser: Sister Margret is encouraged to return to her childhood home on Tulip St, in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia. Since it is Sister Bernadine who did the encouraging, her trip is a surprise to no one. What she finds as she walks through the door is something else entirely.)

6) The soil reclamation phase of the Una garden project is complete. Totally grateful to be done with that part, sorta. it has been good exercise.

7) Phyllis and Una

8) something tomorrow? maybe…

9) the Wakefield Doctrine  because with a proper of understanding of this perspective on people and such, one would have been able to correctly identify the gardener in our tale of dirt and plants-to-be as a person who grew up and developed the social strategies and coping mechanisms that would them a  fighting chance of thriving, while living life  as an Outsider. ya know?

10) SR 1.3

 

18403208_10209099434658644_1119489351777234718_n

Share

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- (what the?!)

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

676px-Vermeer_Girl_Interrupted_at_Her_Music

Six Sentence Story

Bloghop. Simple theme: story writing. Requirements equally simple: six sentences in length. exactly six. (as opposed to 7 or 8) zoe provides a prompt word that must be involved with your story. Notice I did not say ‘used in’, ‘a part of’, or ‘central to’? All that’s needed is an involvement, (that is apparent to the reader, of course.) or not… all depends. lol

‘CUE’

” I must not, I cannot!” shrugging off the Harris tweed coat, Vlad Scripturam, let it fall to floor, leather elbow patches creating suede block quotes, “We’re mere narrative elements in a writing exercise.”

“So you say,” with the wanton disregard of the other-worldly beauty of her flawless skin, Elise managed to arch a perfect eyebrow at the edge of her furrowed brow, “but only one of us, if my understanding of rhetoric is correct, is the protagonist. I will take care of us, mein liebchen.”

“But, mon cherie, no less an authority than the Chicago Manual of Style would beg to differ, citing both ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and ‘Lethal Weapon’,” Vlad stepped back from the chaise lounge, looming tall and erect over the woman’s confidently relaxed posture.

“You are concerning yourself far too much with mere details, relax and allow me to cue the love scene,” Elise’s smile, comprised of a thousand invisible fishhooks, tore at Vlad’s flesh, radiating pleasure throughout his body; who among us, having never been a fish can say that the sea creature, feeling itself drawn upwards, out of its natural element, towards no less a probative heaven than that which fills the myths of mankind, is not in a state of bliss.

Vlad (‘the Rhetorician’) Scripturam allowed himself to be drawn closer.

Share

© 2009-2017 Francis Clark Farley All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright