In batik, resist refers to the technique of applying a material like wax or paste to fabric, preventing dye from penetrating those areas and creating patterns. This creates a design by leaving certain areas of the fabric its original color or a previous dye color while other areas are dyed. This process can be repeated with different resists and dyes to achieve complex, multi-colored designs.
In opening the 42nd annual version of the Orff Levels Training my teacher Avon Gillespie started in 1983 (with me in that first Level I class), I used the cocoon metaphor from July 7th’s post to describe what these two weeks are for. But after reading a poem someone posted on Facebook, a new image came to mind—the notion that what we do in this course is an act of resistance.
I remembered that word “resist” in the process of batik dyeing and it seems like the perfect metaphor. We are here applying wax or paste to the precious parts of our original self to prevent the toxins from entering. When we remove it, those preserved parts blend with the dye that inevitably is stamped on parts of ourselves to create a pattern of blended horror and healing in a complex, multi-colored design. We can’t wholly resist the horror—it’s in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the food we eat, the media we consume. But we can stay strong in those ancient, universal, soulful parts of ourselves that the dye can’t reach to choose to work with the situation and grow a pure lotus flower from the muck and the mud.
That thought, along with a new idea of blending the rhyme Peter Piper with the Deep Purple rock tune Smoke on the Water, complete with body percussion, vocal ostinato, movement and Orff Ensemble, is what the gods offered me at 5:45 in the morning on the 2nd day of this promising SF International Orff Course. Off I go to teach and here’s the poem that inspired it all. Love. Faith. Education. Community. Joy. That's what we're all about. We got it covered.

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