Let's Come to Rest
Let's come to rest.
Feel your feet on the ground.
Feel the weight of your body in the chair.
Feel the hands on the lap.
Feel the clothes against your body.
Feel the subtle play of the air against your skin.
Now, open up your listening…
Mr. Leopold’s love and dedication for the children inspired and transformed every child and every individual he worked with. He was a man of integrity, a solid presence at the Otto Specht School. He brought love, wisdom, a great sense of humor, fun, and lots of exquisite music.
It was Mr. Leopold and his guitar and Banjo that for years now, serenaded each Otto Specht School cultural activity. From our mug exchange to Michaelmas, all school hikes, Maypole, Thanksgiving, and so much more, Mr. Leopold and his guitar and banjo were the soundtrack to our times together.
It was Mr. Leopold and his guitar and banjo and an array of other instruments that accompanied our school plays. From the enchanted forests of of a Midsummer's Night’s Dream to the interplanetary travels of the Little Prince, Mr. Leopold oriented students to the time and space of each changing scene.
When school shut down in March 2020, families of students with Special Needs faced a unique crisis amidst a world in crisis. But Mr. Leopold, and his guitar and Banjo and a maybe half joking idea, was able to keep our students connected as the unabashed star of Mr. Leopold’s Neighborhood and through his daily meditations.
Mr. Leopold was a student of the School of Practical Philosophy - and I believe that the Otto Specht School provided the perfect place to practice, to teach, and to continue his studies.
Sam came to my office once with an idea for a class he wanted to teach to our then 8th graders - “We’re going to oil the wood in the whole auditorium,” he told me. I thought he was crazy to try and spend 45 minutes oiling wood with these three rather high energy young teenagers. That’s great! I told him and entered “Philosophy 101” into their schedules two days per week. The project was never finished. There was a large discussion after one student was found, matches and oiled cloth in hand, and then the Pandemic hit. In that student's semester report, Sam wrote “Self knowledge, though difficult at times, helps everyone.”
No lesson of Mr. Leopold’s was temporal or temporary. In his own words, even his third grade music class was “A forty-five minute music period with a long-range goal in mind”. He wanted to get to know each student and to prepare them - for life, the ultimate final exam. Last year, a student asked, “What is the meaning of life?” Sam said he would have to ask Evan, an elderly member at the Fellowship Community. When the student followed up, Sam reported that Evan had, indeed, told him. “He wouldn’t tell me what he said, though!” the student said to me, “Instead, he said something like - In order to grow you need to come up with questions. You have many questions, and that is good. Now you need to go pursue them.”
Sam had many questions himself. He was an avid learner, fully immersed, patiently hungry to learn, and eager to share. He was excited by ideas, by knowledge, and by debate, and carried an unwavering belief that we can make a difference. In late October, as the pain was becoming harder to bear, I received a text lamenting the fact that he would not make it to meditation with the students. He wrote: “Actually, probably won’t make it today… Please feel free to visit any time. We can have tea and solve the world's problems. “
When one student, very dear to Mr. Leopold heard that he had passed away, he said - “can we come to rest?” The family sat and did a brief meditation, then the student got up, and said - “that was great!”
“Rest in the listening.
This peace, and this stillness - this feeling of wellbeing, this is yourself. This is who you are. And this can be available to you at any time. Any time during the day, you can say to yourself, come to rest.”