“Before you become too entranced with gorgeous gadgets and mesmerizing video displays, let me remind you that information is not knowledge, knowledge is not wisdom, and wisdom is not foresight. Each grows out of the other, and we need them all.” 
― Arthur C. Clarke

I'm mentally trying to transition gracefully from my technologically dominated world (and I do mean dominated, and some, if not all of it, is by choice) to a more introspective, slower-paced measuring of time. That is to say, summer. I need to stop checking my Facebook, my phone, my emails, my Words With Friends, my clocks...in short, all of the things that dictate the who, what, where, when, and why of my daily existence. To this end, and to preserve my sanity, I will be going to the Frost Place in Franconia, NH for a total immersion week that is functionally titled the Conference on Poetry and Teaching, with an extra day and a half workshop called Teachers as Writers. Titles aside, I will be going to Poetry Summer Camp. And I am glad, glad, glad. Six glorious days of sitting in Frost's barn, listening to words, to people, forging bonds across time and space with people I don't see but maybe once a year, or once in a lifetime. I will be relatively unplugged, yet totally plugged in. There is something both energizing and comforting about trekking uphill on a dirt road to the Frost Place, greeting the day with coffee, conversation, and collegiality, and knowing that, at least for a short time, I will be with my "tribe," focusing on the ways that words connect people. As connected we are by our electronic devices, we are never more divided at the same time. We need to hear each other pause and think, to speak with intention and affection, to question and puzzle out ideas and nuances. In short, we need to slow down. And dwell with words. And be present to each other. This is wisdom-making, and we need it more than ever.