Taking an integrated approach to school, the arts shouldn't be relegated to something that only happens in art class. It's central to the way we all learn and should be a part of any subject. Just as the concept of “cosmology” above provides a philosophical and scientific framework for knowing our place in the world, the arts offer an opportunity for people to discover and express their place in the world through story and symbol.

It is also noteworthy that literature is included in the arts. Too often, schools take an overly technical approach to teaching reading and writing. As with any art, there is of course a technical aspect to writing, but there is an equally important creative side.

While literature often tells a story in a straightforward way, all arts is fundamentally an act of mythmaking, worldmaking, through story. The word “poet,” at its root, means “maker.” And, indeed, the poet and the artist are makers of the world through story, a process known as mythopoesis.

COMMUNITY

This subject is fundamentally about this sharing, and any genuine community is one in which stories are shared. Before the reimagining of the story can even occur, it is important to establish the classroom as a space in which to listen and to be heard. Each member of the learning community brings a story, each member already an artist. Often, a young person already has a deficit narrative. This is okay; the work of the teacher isn't to change the narrative; rather, it is to create a space for the youth to change the narrative themselves.

It is the sharing, the space in between the individuals, where the art happens, where the meaning is brought forth. Rather than thinking of a work of art as having a concrete meaning, let's think of it as pregnant with meaning, and that cannot entirely be said to exist until it encounters another. This is not unlike—metaphorically if not literally—the concept in quantum physics in which the exact location only exists when it is observed. We bring forth meaning in art through observation, too, or, more precisely, through the relationships of a community.

The learning community is a context for creative expression and play. In focusing on play rather than competition, the emphasis is shifted from product to process. The classroom is a community of people lifting each other up and giving space for play and creativity. The concept of constructive criticism and feedback are tied up in notions of community. That is, if we take seriously the notion that a classroom is a community, we can support each other as we wrestle with the creative process. Good art requires this kind of support, this kind of space—the space in which we can experiment and play rather than focus on a finished, marketable product.

In putting together an actual, physical learning space, we can think of the space itself as art, rather than a place to put art. Let's consider the kinds of things that are often put on the walls of a typical classroom: posters trying to inspire kindergarteners to get into college or excel on standardized tests or explaining the virtues of the semicolon. None of these things will impact the young person in any way other than to rob them of their agency. One of my favorite classes in high school was “Cartooning and Graffiti” with Mr. Berry. In part, Mr. Berry was an effective teacher because he never told us what to create—that was always our choice. But I also recall the wall of his classroom, where students would bomb graffiti. But it doesn't have to be art as such that the students put on the walls, or even involve the walls. Consider that it is the work of the learning community to create the learning space. When we do this, we can think of our lives as art. As the poet and potter M.C. Richards puts it, “The big art is our life.” (Richards 2011, p. 41)

INTELLECT

All arts are an intersection of technique and creativity, mind and heart. While we tend to think of imagination as something that stands in opposition to intellect, it is more useful to think of them as part of the same creative process.

Unlike other arts, literature is often approached from a strictly technical and intellectual angle. Students learn grammar and various forms of literary analysis; even poetry is reduced to one's ability to identify various forms and techniques. Often, students are graded on rubrics regarding their ability to identify various literary techniques—what could be less poetic than that! What's missing, of course, is the intuitive, emotional, imaginative aspect of literature. There will be more on that below, but it's also worth looking at what a genuine intellectual approach to the arts would entail.

Let's begin with asking some questions—an inquiry, if you will, into the symbols of culture. Our youth are more inundated with information than ever before. They are drowning in it, in fact. Participation in the democratic process, in the culture as a whole, requires us to be able to recognize the narratives we are given. This requires a rigorous analysis of the arts and media. What is the story they are telling? What are they trying to sell? What are they trying to make me feel in order to buy what they are selling? By asking questions like these, we can analyze the ways in which our cultural narrative influences consciousness.

Social media has come to dominate how we engage in the arts, and it is important to analyze not merely the arts, but the medium itself. When it's appropriate (and this age seems to get lower every year) it can be useful for students to keep a “plugged‐in” journal. Sometimes—this is true for someone of any age with a smart phone—we just don't realize how much time we are spending in front of a screen. And this is an opportunity to really study the media we use and how it affects the brain. Moreover, it affects whom we communicate with, how, and what information we see. This is an essential element of anyone's education in today's world.

Let's also return to the notion of technique and the arts. So much emphasis is placed on that which is testable and quantifiable. For example, just as we overemphasize literary techniques when we analyze literature and poetry, we also overemphasize things like grammar in teaching writing. It's not that grammar isn't important; it's that the way we teach it often reduces good writing to its technical elements. One learns to write, in general, by reading good literature. And, of course, by living one's life deeply and meaningfully. This is how we come to find our voice as an artist.

Technique is best discovered not by testing or rubrics, but through a mindful process of balancing the beautiful and the technical, and by mentoring and apprenticeship. It is worth considering, as well, the role of mentorship and apprenticeship in education. We assume that to be an educator means to be a teacher—and that a teacher must be an individual authority figure standing over a group of students. But a teacher can also be a mentor, a student can also be an apprentice. These kinds of one‐on‐one relationships can be important for the young artist.

SOUL

I again draw from the work of Matthew Fox. In his graduate programs in spirituality, Fox implemented a holistic pedagogy in which, in addition to the more intellectual aspects of the course, there was time for embodied practice, emotional processing, and what he called “Art as Meditation.” It was during this period that students were encouraged to engage in practices that involved various artistic practices from drumming and dance to pottery and poetry. For Fox, this was a way to engage the ideas with the right brain as well as the left. (McSweeney 2020) Moreover, it was a reimagining of the whole notion of meditation—and art. For the purpose of Art‐as‐Meditation is never the product; it is always the process, and the subtle changes we go through when we are creating something. “Only art as meditation reminds people so that they will never forget that the most beautiful thing a potter produces is … the potter,” he writes. (Fox 1983) And while there is, of course, a place for silent meditation, there are also more active forms of mindfulness practice, such as embodied practices (see “hands” below) and the mindfulness of engaging in creativity.

At Wisdom Projects, we have often used theater and especially improv as a way to explore our emotions through the arts. For example, “Sound Ball” is a way for participants to tune in to one another in a creative, embodied way:

1. Have the group stand in a circle.
2. One person makes a sound—any sound—while also making a throwing gesture toward another person in the group. That second person then “receives” the sound with a physical motion like catching a ball or a sack or a ray of light and—importantly—repeats the sound sent to them.
3. Then, without hesitation, the first receiver sends a new sound with a new gesture to another person in the circle.
4. Keep the sound moving quickly and boldly to get everyone involved.
5. Make sure to get the body involved and not just the voice. An active, athletic stance—like you would need if you were prepared to catch a real ball—helps loosen up the mind.
6. Encourage participants not to predict or plan what sound they'll make if the ball comes their way. Better to receive the one sent and then send a new one that emerges of its own accord. Make sure that participants do actively receive the sound sent to them before sending one out. It's a great affirmation to the sender and helps build a spirit of generosity.
7. Add in your own variations as your group gets better with Sound Ball. We've played City Ball, Vegetable Ball, Names that Start with M Ball, and so on. Keep encouraging folks not to have one waiting in the wings to use. Or, even better, let them have a response in the wings—but then choose another one in the moment.

Theater in general, and especially improv, also offers a way to learn to express one's emotions creatively and safely. The actor doesn't merely “pretend” to feel a certain way; they draw from their own experiences and feelings and, in this way, can safely and creatively express and process them.

HANDS

The arts are embodied. Some examples are obvious—dancers and actors literally turn their bodies into art—but all arts are embodied. The movement of the painter's brush, the flow of the singer's or poet's breath—these, too, are embodied.

At Wisdom Projects, we've used the potter's wheel to engage in the meditative practice described by M.C. Richards as “centering.” The potter's wheel, moving in a circle, requires the artist to center the clay, focusing with precision on the single point of awareness at the center of the rotating circle. This activity is done with both mind and hands. One's hands feel the wet, textured clay as the circle spins, centering and focusing the mind to create a work of art. This requires a deep listening. Richards writes:

And with listening, too, it seems to me, it is not the ear that hears, it is not the physical organ that performs the act of inner receptivity. It is the total person who hears. Sometimes the skin seems to be the best listener, as it prickles and thrills, say to a sound or a silence; or the fantasy, the imagination: how it bursts into inner pictures as it listens and then responds by pressing its language, its forms, into the listening clay. To be open to what we hear, to be open in what we say. (Richards 2011, p. 9)

As with poetry and literature, plastic arts also require one to learn technique along with creativity. With the potter's wheel, hands and heart and mind come together to produce a reimagined product and a reimagined self.

OIKOS

At its core, the arts are a specifically human expression of the inherent creativity of the evolving cosmos. Human creativity isn't separate from the Earth's creativity; art becomes a part of our evolving cosmos.

The classroom can connect to the Earth's creativity reflecting the embeddedness of the artist. Below are some examples of ways that creative activities can reflect this embeddedness.

Mandalas of Suffering, Pain, Struggle

Students describe an episode of suffering, pain, or struggle in their lives and community. For example, we once worked with a group of high school dropouts, many of whom had been incarcerated. They had been told, repeatedly, that their “poor choices”—strictly as individuals, had led to their situation.

The participants then recreate the mandala of concentric circles. From this mandala, what they create shows how that episode is related to each circle—their family, their community, and their world (this can vary a bit). They begin to see, through this process, that everything in our lives is connected, and that we have some agency and responsibility, of course, but there are other factors, beyond our individual control.

Indeed, this is a truer understanding of karma. Literally meaning action, karma refers, in Buddhist and Hindu traditions, to how the world is created, co‐created, and recreated through our actions and thoughts. But this never happens individually. We are always embedded in relationships.

Next, the students create a mandala of support, showing how their peers, their family and their community can support them through their struggles.

Multi‐Perspectival Roles Activity

In this exercise, the students explore the different roles they play. Students make a list of the roles they play in their family, at school, and in their community (or “the street”). To understand the notion of roles, the facilitator can demonstrate her or his roles in each case. Students learn to express the different roles they play by describing three roles in a particular context, one that is a noun (for example, one might say “a brother”); one that is a verb (“nurture”); and one that is an adjective (“funny”).

Students share the lists. What do the lists say about the importance of context? Depending on this context, how do our roles change? Do the roles we play sometimes seem to contradict each other?

Finally, more advanced students might reflect on the following paradox:

1. There is a “Self ” that transcends these roles; we are more than the ways in which others define us.
2. Our “Self ” is not isolated from others; in many ways, “who we are” is defined by our relationships.
3. [For advanced students] The “Self ” is empty—that is, there is no fundamental self or ego at our core; we are deeply interconnected and made up of a web of interconnected relationships.

CREATIVITY

What, after all, is creativity? As described above, the arts require technique, mindfulness, and imagination. And creativity is how we put the imagination into action. Creativity dances on the edge of chaos and cosmos, disorder and beauty. Good art cannot be too rational, too orderly, but it transforms the chaos into beauty and order—cosmos. Matthew Fox explains:

What do we do with chaos? Creativity has an answer. We are told by those who have studied the processes of nature that creativity happens at the border between chaos and order. Chaos is a prelude to creativity. We need to learn, as every artist needs to learn, to live with chaos and indeed to dance with it as we listen to it and attempt some ordering. Artists wrestle with chaos, take it apart, deconstruct and reconstruct from it. Accept the challenge to convert chaos into some kind of order, respecting the timing of it all, not pushing beyond what is possible—combining holy patience with holy impatience—that is the role of the artist. It is each of our roles as we launch the twenty‐first century because we are all called to be artists in our own way. We were all artists as children. We need to study the chaos around us in order to turn it into something beautiful. Something sustainable. Something that remains. (Fox 2004, p. 7)

As educators, we must learn to navigate the chaos of childhood, some of which is rich and pregnant with creative potential. But we must also recognize that there is trauma in the chaos of childhood. And even if this pain contains a seed of creative potential, we cannot gloss over the trauma and should strive to implement trauma‐informed practices.¹

As always, we begin with some questions. What does chaos mean? Why should we study chaos? How has chaos come up in my own life? What happens when people are afraid of chaos, try to crush chaos by controlling everything? An important point is that chaos is not simply disorder. Chaos explores the transitions between order and disorder, which often occur in surprising ways. Note the moments of chaos in the learning process and, similarly, note the moments when things become excessively ordered. What is a good balance for you? How is this balance being met or not being met? Below are some examples of ways we have approached chaos with students to better understand how beauty and creativity can arise out of the chaos.

• Chaos in History: The Middle Passage is an example we've used of a group of people whose lives were thrown into chaos. This was not a mere tragedy. For those who endured the Middle Passage, an entire world and worldview was eradicated. In its wake, in a new world, they came together to become a new people, with a new language, a new culture, new stories. Indeed, from the chaos of the Middle Passage, a culture arose that would influence and transform the entire world. There are also specific examples of historical figures who dealt with chaos and transformed it into something positive.
• Chaos in Mythology: What do our religious traditions say about chaos? There is a pattern found in many creation myths of the cosmos—our ordered world—arising out of the primordial chaos. The words chaos and cosmos come specifically from the Greek mythological tradition. In many other traditions, there is also a tradition of the Trickster. The Trickster's role is to challenge boundaries and norms—to play with the edge of cultures and worldviews, doing things that might be considered inappropriate or even evil. But the Trickster's role is to force us to grow and change by confronting our own absurdity. In this way, the Trickster is the primordial artist, the challenger of what we think is possible.
• Chaos and Science: Chaos theory helps us to understand that science isn't always predictable. Chaos in the evolutionary process demonstrates how growth and transformation occur not merely despite chaos—they require chaos.
• Chaos and the Arts: We have already looked at the Middle Passage and slavery as an example of chaos in history. What were some of the creative forms that emerged from this experience? Jazz, blues … others? Hip Hop emerged in the 1970s in the South Bronx, an area that had been devastated by drugs and violence.

How have any of these examples changed your ideas about chaos? Which of the above examples are a metaphor for the role you play in the world? Think of chaos as letting go of our need to control or attachment to a specific outcome. How will this affect the creative process?

Above all else, perhaps, creativity is an invitation to explore one's unique gifts.

1. Remember a time before you had responsibilities like homework. How did you choose to fill your days?
2. Think of a time when you lost track of time. What were you doing?
3. What is something you are good at? This may or may not be in school.
4. What excites you?
5. What makes you feel alive?

Lastly, let us return to the “I Am” poem, with a particular emphasis on that which we can create out of chaos.

I am [an example of suffering I have experienced]

I am [an example of suffering in the world]

I am [an example of chaos in my life]

I am [an example of chaos in the world]

I am [an example of order or creativity that arises out of chaos]

I am [an example of a warrior]

I am [an example of something that arises out of silence]

I am [an example of something that arises out of darkness]

INTEGRATION

The world is intrinsically creative, co‐created by the webs of ecological relationships. The work of the artist is to express, in a particularly human way, the inherent creativity of the world. Rather than a discrete subject, it makes more sense to think of the arts as the expressive element of any subject.

• Cosmos: While the study of science is largely about observation and analysis, there is also an oft‐neglected creative aspect. Because we are emphasizing cosmology, the next, and essential, step is the creation of a narrative around the observation and information. The scientist and the artist are partners in the process of creating this narrative; or, what's more, we are all scientists and artists.
• Spirit: The role of the artist is not unlike that of the shaman or mystic. Or even the Trickster. Just as organized religions evolve when people challenge accepted beliefs, cultures and civilizations are transformed by the artist. Moreover, the work of the artist is inherently spiritual in that it is rooted in the interior life, the soul of the artist.
• Hands: Whether it is cooking, parenting, or gardening, our daily work is art.
• Justice and Joy: The work of creating a more just world is creative. It requires not merely to become angry and seek change, but also to imagine the possibilities. Moreover, the work of healthy political engagement is an art. The symbols and rituals of activists are art. This is not just a way to challenge power, or even to bring more people to a cause; it also is a way to experience genuine joy and community in the solidarity of movement‐building.

Ultimately, the role of the artist in any society will determine a great deal about the kind of civilization we create. Fascist or totalitarian regimes always come for the artists. For it is the artist who sees things from different perspectives and with nuance. The civilization that listens to its poets, embracing paradox and nuance, moves away from fascism.