In a book aptly titled Teaching with Feeling, educational psychologist Herbert Greenberg (1968) describes the process whereby students who don't receive sufficient attention or validation in their schooling years are later (hopefully) "picked up" by someone else. However, at the same time, he cautions:
A great concern in this regard must be the child who is neglected or disliked continuously. It is hoped that each child will find one teacher (perhaps in physical education, the shop, music, art), or the nurse, who will like him (sic). Or perhaps next year, with a new classroom teacher, he will be more fortunate. However certain children year after year, teacher after teacher, never click positively with anyone. These children are truly neglected in the educational process simply because they arouse no positive feeling in teachers (p.50).
As I am reading this passage, I am thinking a lot of different things. First of all, part of it does perhaps ring pretty true to many people's lives, if not most, even though Greenberg was writing in a time that is quite different from today's world. Emotional support or love never comes to everyone at the same time, and from everyone, especially when it comes to teacher and peer support. Perhaps one of the lessons that people eventually might get from this is that they are never really or fully "in control" of the process of connecting in ways that feel positive or sustainable. There is even a kind of joy in being able to bear moments of non-love or non-support and to even test one's ability to go through such periods when they are not being supported by kind teachers or guidance counselors.
On the other hand, I don't think that Greenberg is necessarily describing those fortunate students who have been able to develop the confidence to sustain periods of not being supported by teachers or authorities of some kind. Perhaps there are, as he describes, students who somehow did not find teachers who resonated with their character traits, and therefore did not develop the sufficient confidence to be able to see periods of non-support or lack as opportunities for personal growth and independence of some kind. In those cases, what kinds of choices can both the teacher and the student make to ensure that the student's need for emotional support in their learning is being met? This very much seems a timely topic in light of recent incidents of school violence, many of which seem to be instigated by people who are characterized as "loners" or aggressive individuals by the school system and surrounding society.
When students fail to accept themselves, it seems to be up to the teacher to be able to work on themselves to the point where they can model acceptance in the child. I don't think this necessarily means coddling the child or giving them insincere gestures of support. Rather, I literally mean that teachers need to accept their total reactions toward all their students as a part (but not all) of themselves in the changing moment, before students can mirror that sort of grounded acceptance.
In other words, perhaps, teachers can practice self-acceptance of the totality of their emotional worlds, with the aim of conveying that attitude of total acceptance to the students.
What this means is that when I (as a teacher, say) am completely okay with who I am right now, emotionally and physically, as a presence in this classroom, I am no longer trying to suppress certain elements in my emotional makeup to please students or fellow teachers. Nor, for that matter, am I grabbing onto these emotions as though I needed to prove to the world that they are inseparable parts of me and therefore need to be somehow championed. Instead, this lack of attachment and acknowledgement of emotions can create a sense in children that it's simply okay for them to be who they are, without trying to prove themselves through some violent or aggressive force.
In this way, my point is never to frame myself as "an authority figure who dispenses love to passive students". Rather, I see myself as someone who exercises wholeness (as best as possible) so that students can possibly awaken to little moments of wholeness in their present existence. This also replaces the hidden expectation that teachers are supposed to be indiscriminate dispensers of love and support, empowering students instead to find their own inner support within themselves through moments of presence and acceptance.
Greenberg, Herbert M. (1968). Teaching with Feeling: Compassion and Self Awareness in the Classroom Today. Pegasus
Friday, March 30, 2018
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Subtle Kindness
Recently, I read an article which talked about a recent school shooting. Many of the students were given the impression that because the shooter had violent proclivities, it was somehow up to his fellow classmates to bestow "kindness" upon him in order to have prevented his violent behavior. A student who tried to befriend this person has reported that in her attempts to try to bestow kindness on him, he behaved violently and inappropriately toward her. The student concludes that people should never feel obligated to bestow kindness on someone even if they appear to be a "loner" with tendencies toward violence.
I am reflecting on this issue, because I do wonder whether educators perhaps need to exercise care in the way that we teach/preach about kindness in classrooms. It's obvious that many of the students are indoctrinated with the view that it's good to extend a certain kindness toward all people, regardless of how that kindness is received or whether the receiver even truly benefits from it or wants it. People thus are brought up to think of kindness as a kind of moral injunction-which is often exactly what it is in many religious texts. "Be kind to..." is often understood as a divine commandment and a moral obligation that people have a duty to somehow fulfill or bestow evenly on all people. However, as I did learn in my recent experiences at the Timekeeper retreat, the way we handle situations is to first know what the person's situation is, as well as to clarify it using wisdom. Indiscriminate kindness can lead to a sort of almost blind or stereotypical vision where we smile at people and treat them nicely in the hopes that they will change from "frogs" into "princes" overnight. But what is implied in this vision of kindness is a kind of social control. Implicit to this notion is that if I am nice to you, eventually you are going to be nice just like me. Now why doesn't this work most of the time, you might wonder?
I think the answer is that most people eventually get the idea that, when kindness is "dispensed" in this way toward them, they are somehow being tricked into doing something or even manipulated to feel a certain kind of obligatory reciprocity: "I scratched your back, now you scratch mine". Kindness becomes a game or a strategy that people use to please people who are powerful or in authority, rather than being a genuine emotion that arises from one's interactions and even a real compassion for someone else. This kindness is more a kind of social conditioning than it is something that comes from a real insight into how another person is doing in life. Not only do the receivers feel that it isn't genuine (that is, being done for the sake of an ideology) but the givers feel completely burned out and betrayed in their acts of kindness. Their kindness doesn't even feel so real to themselves, let alone others.
I wonder if perhaps if people weren't so pressured to be any certain way, that they would perhaps naturally have more room to empathize with other beings. That is, maybe this "kindness" we are looking for arises precisely when we drop all the "looking for", "seeking", "striving" or even "pretending" for the sake of getting accolades and avoiding blame. But I think what's at issue here is that people are never given a chance to drop these pressures and pretenses. We are living completely in this sealed off pressure dome, where everything we do is monitored and given a label. This is happening for so long, in fact, that there is no room to even appreciate who we are inside of us. As a result, we hardly are able to feel anything for others either, because we are so cut off from who we are deep in ourselves.
To go back to my original point: people may have to honor the depth of uniqueness in a person's soul before thy can develop a genuine respect. This is not easy to do if people are never given the chance to see their own souls and to be valued for their souls. But the way to do so is to appreciate that we come from distant lands, which aren't necessarily limited to this present life. We can never fully know the mystery of who a person is, and when one sees someone who is violent, the first thing is to know that this is someone who needs special kinds of care and attention. The second is to recognize that this person must be suffering a lot in not being able to connect with people in nonviolent or creative ways. This gives rise to real compassion, to know, "well this person must be having a real hard time with this issue. Even though I don't share their struggles, I have my own struggles in some aspects of life". This self reflective compassion is much more nuanced than the sudden jump to "you must be kind to everyone you see".
I am reflecting on this issue, because I do wonder whether educators perhaps need to exercise care in the way that we teach/preach about kindness in classrooms. It's obvious that many of the students are indoctrinated with the view that it's good to extend a certain kindness toward all people, regardless of how that kindness is received or whether the receiver even truly benefits from it or wants it. People thus are brought up to think of kindness as a kind of moral injunction-which is often exactly what it is in many religious texts. "Be kind to..." is often understood as a divine commandment and a moral obligation that people have a duty to somehow fulfill or bestow evenly on all people. However, as I did learn in my recent experiences at the Timekeeper retreat, the way we handle situations is to first know what the person's situation is, as well as to clarify it using wisdom. Indiscriminate kindness can lead to a sort of almost blind or stereotypical vision where we smile at people and treat them nicely in the hopes that they will change from "frogs" into "princes" overnight. But what is implied in this vision of kindness is a kind of social control. Implicit to this notion is that if I am nice to you, eventually you are going to be nice just like me. Now why doesn't this work most of the time, you might wonder?
I think the answer is that most people eventually get the idea that, when kindness is "dispensed" in this way toward them, they are somehow being tricked into doing something or even manipulated to feel a certain kind of obligatory reciprocity: "I scratched your back, now you scratch mine". Kindness becomes a game or a strategy that people use to please people who are powerful or in authority, rather than being a genuine emotion that arises from one's interactions and even a real compassion for someone else. This kindness is more a kind of social conditioning than it is something that comes from a real insight into how another person is doing in life. Not only do the receivers feel that it isn't genuine (that is, being done for the sake of an ideology) but the givers feel completely burned out and betrayed in their acts of kindness. Their kindness doesn't even feel so real to themselves, let alone others.
I wonder if perhaps if people weren't so pressured to be any certain way, that they would perhaps naturally have more room to empathize with other beings. That is, maybe this "kindness" we are looking for arises precisely when we drop all the "looking for", "seeking", "striving" or even "pretending" for the sake of getting accolades and avoiding blame. But I think what's at issue here is that people are never given a chance to drop these pressures and pretenses. We are living completely in this sealed off pressure dome, where everything we do is monitored and given a label. This is happening for so long, in fact, that there is no room to even appreciate who we are inside of us. As a result, we hardly are able to feel anything for others either, because we are so cut off from who we are deep in ourselves.
To go back to my original point: people may have to honor the depth of uniqueness in a person's soul before thy can develop a genuine respect. This is not easy to do if people are never given the chance to see their own souls and to be valued for their souls. But the way to do so is to appreciate that we come from distant lands, which aren't necessarily limited to this present life. We can never fully know the mystery of who a person is, and when one sees someone who is violent, the first thing is to know that this is someone who needs special kinds of care and attention. The second is to recognize that this person must be suffering a lot in not being able to connect with people in nonviolent or creative ways. This gives rise to real compassion, to know, "well this person must be having a real hard time with this issue. Even though I don't share their struggles, I have my own struggles in some aspects of life". This self reflective compassion is much more nuanced than the sudden jump to "you must be kind to everyone you see".
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Small Kindness
Coming back from a 5 day meditation timekeeper retreat, I begin to realize that there is a simple kindness that everyone has, which can arise when the right conditions are in place. That sounds a little bit silly, but what I want to share is that the kinds of qualities that timekeeping are meant to arise in people are really the conditions in which kindness can manifest. Some of those qualities include humility, attention to small details, and the ability to take care of the different signals for the sake of the practitioners. There is a kind of interaction between person and environment which is really delicate yet so crucial to the process of being an effective timekeeper. After coming out of this retreat, I start to develop a different sensibility toward volunteering. I start to realize that every little bit of attention I give to something truly counts in the final result, and it adds (or detracts from) the professionalism of a finished work.
What's the relationship between this kind of care and kindness itself? Well, I have found personally that when my ambitions in life are very big, I don't have the ability to see what's in front of me. Conversely, seeing simple details in the here and now can furnish endless opportunities for small yet significant moments of kindness. Life sometimes furnishes examples. On the way to the Chan Hall, a practitioner whom I was talking to turned around very swiftly and warned the woman behind him not to step on a caterpillar which was slowly inching along the ground, soft and furry. I was quite moved by the fact that this practitioner so quickly spotted the caterpillar in so brief a period of time, as though he had eyes in the back of his head! It was as though every living creature was precious to this man, and he showed it through his behavior in that split second.
Kindness also seems to come with appreciation. When I am not trying so hard to be really good at something, but take a moment to appreciate what I can do in this moment, my personality naturally becomes softer. During the timekeeper training, I tried to do a kind of "perfect" prostration in accordance with the regulations. When I couldn't quite do it, of course, I did feel inadequate. Yet afterwards, I reflected that this is what I can do at this time, and it can certainly improve as long as I have the blueprint of what a prostration might look like. I don't need to be there right now or right away, but I can let that blueprint grow on me somewhat, until it becomes a part of me. This is very much like the metaphor of planting a seed.
I think what stops kindness is the habitual tendency to look for more, to want more in little time, and to compare ourselves with others. Another aspect is the anxiety that comes from thinking in an all or nothing way: it has to happen now or never, I am either all good or all bad, and so on. These kinds of polarizations don't mesh with the reality of how things grow in the natural world. Again, to use the metaphor of seeds, trees never grow into their full size overnight. Part of the beauty of seeing a tree is precisely that it grows in its own way, at its own pace, using the natural conditions it needs around it to find its own growth.
What I am suggesting is that if a person changes their mindset a little bit, they can find themselves becoming softer in their personality. It's not necessary in these cases to rush through life, and one can savor the delicate aspects of life in a state of movement and change.
What's the relationship between this kind of care and kindness itself? Well, I have found personally that when my ambitions in life are very big, I don't have the ability to see what's in front of me. Conversely, seeing simple details in the here and now can furnish endless opportunities for small yet significant moments of kindness. Life sometimes furnishes examples. On the way to the Chan Hall, a practitioner whom I was talking to turned around very swiftly and warned the woman behind him not to step on a caterpillar which was slowly inching along the ground, soft and furry. I was quite moved by the fact that this practitioner so quickly spotted the caterpillar in so brief a period of time, as though he had eyes in the back of his head! It was as though every living creature was precious to this man, and he showed it through his behavior in that split second.
Kindness also seems to come with appreciation. When I am not trying so hard to be really good at something, but take a moment to appreciate what I can do in this moment, my personality naturally becomes softer. During the timekeeper training, I tried to do a kind of "perfect" prostration in accordance with the regulations. When I couldn't quite do it, of course, I did feel inadequate. Yet afterwards, I reflected that this is what I can do at this time, and it can certainly improve as long as I have the blueprint of what a prostration might look like. I don't need to be there right now or right away, but I can let that blueprint grow on me somewhat, until it becomes a part of me. This is very much like the metaphor of planting a seed.
I think what stops kindness is the habitual tendency to look for more, to want more in little time, and to compare ourselves with others. Another aspect is the anxiety that comes from thinking in an all or nothing way: it has to happen now or never, I am either all good or all bad, and so on. These kinds of polarizations don't mesh with the reality of how things grow in the natural world. Again, to use the metaphor of seeds, trees never grow into their full size overnight. Part of the beauty of seeing a tree is precisely that it grows in its own way, at its own pace, using the natural conditions it needs around it to find its own growth.
What I am suggesting is that if a person changes their mindset a little bit, they can find themselves becoming softer in their personality. It's not necessary in these cases to rush through life, and one can savor the delicate aspects of life in a state of movement and change.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Time Anxiety
With all the recent deadlines I have been experiencing at work as well as new learning opportunities elsewhere, it's important for me to pause and reflect on my attitudes toward time. Is time something that people accumulate, as in "clocking one's hours"? Or are there healthier ways of looking at our relationships with time?
A culture that is obsessed with time and deadlines operates under one implicit belief, and that is, "there is one time, and one time only: it's now or never." I have to admit that this mentality can be helpful for people who procrastinate, since it encourages them to let go of the illusion that there is ever a future tense, or a moment when it "will" happen. However, when taken to an extreme, such an idea about time can lead to a hurried attitude toward life. I keep trying to accumulate what I think will give me more satisfaction and security, not recognizing all the while that such conferring is entirely human made. A "degree" in a certain academic subject is not a universal "conferring" of one's personal value or worth, yet how often does one pursue such things under the implied notion that it's a static object that is being pursued?
Perhaps a healthier attitude is not to have any particular notion of time. If something needs to be done, then for sure we schedule that event, but we might keep in mind that in fact there is nothing that really needs doing, since there are infinite possibilities. If I bound myself to one particular set of habitual actions, I am really only committing myself to a habit-- one which can in turn be switched to something else when the need arises. In this way, I don't focus on the number of things I do but on the endless possibilities that are in each moment that can be done. This way, my attitude is more open and relaxed, with less need to rush.
It's hard to keep this space where one can enjoy moments without thinking of endless tasks. I suppose it can be helpful to reflect on how completing a task is never a guarantee or "safety" but is only one part of a larger state of flowing with conditions.
A culture that is obsessed with time and deadlines operates under one implicit belief, and that is, "there is one time, and one time only: it's now or never." I have to admit that this mentality can be helpful for people who procrastinate, since it encourages them to let go of the illusion that there is ever a future tense, or a moment when it "will" happen. However, when taken to an extreme, such an idea about time can lead to a hurried attitude toward life. I keep trying to accumulate what I think will give me more satisfaction and security, not recognizing all the while that such conferring is entirely human made. A "degree" in a certain academic subject is not a universal "conferring" of one's personal value or worth, yet how often does one pursue such things under the implied notion that it's a static object that is being pursued?
Perhaps a healthier attitude is not to have any particular notion of time. If something needs to be done, then for sure we schedule that event, but we might keep in mind that in fact there is nothing that really needs doing, since there are infinite possibilities. If I bound myself to one particular set of habitual actions, I am really only committing myself to a habit-- one which can in turn be switched to something else when the need arises. In this way, I don't focus on the number of things I do but on the endless possibilities that are in each moment that can be done. This way, my attitude is more open and relaxed, with less need to rush.
It's hard to keep this space where one can enjoy moments without thinking of endless tasks. I suppose it can be helpful to reflect on how completing a task is never a guarantee or "safety" but is only one part of a larger state of flowing with conditions.
Thursday, March 22, 2018
Illusions of Control
There is always a tendency to blame oneself when things go wrong, and I have observed this in myself especially. When work is piling up, I tend to overcompensate by doing much more than I am physically capable of taking on at any given time, under the belief that somehow this will "get things under control." In reality, however, this only solidifies the illusion of a self that was in control to begin with.
During the group meditation tonight, we had this discussion related to how the mind tricks a person into believing that physical attributes which are passed down via evolution can tell people how they choose partners in life. The point of this discussion was in fact to suggest that all thoughts are somewhat delusional, because they are always only partial insights, similar to blind people encountering one part of the elephant. A thought is always by its very nature limited in scope: it cannot innovate or think new thoughts, as it's only one pathway that the brain happens to make. One of the biggest tricks that one's culture plays is in thinking that there is ever an "end" when we finally understand things definitively, thus maintaining a sense of control. In fact, phenomena are constantly subject to change and revision, and the only thing we can do is honor the commitments we have to others as they are happening in this moment.
During the group meditation tonight, we had this discussion related to how the mind tricks a person into believing that physical attributes which are passed down via evolution can tell people how they choose partners in life. The point of this discussion was in fact to suggest that all thoughts are somewhat delusional, because they are always only partial insights, similar to blind people encountering one part of the elephant. A thought is always by its very nature limited in scope: it cannot innovate or think new thoughts, as it's only one pathway that the brain happens to make. One of the biggest tricks that one's culture plays is in thinking that there is ever an "end" when we finally understand things definitively, thus maintaining a sense of control. In fact, phenomena are constantly subject to change and revision, and the only thing we can do is honor the commitments we have to others as they are happening in this moment.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Push and Pull of Expectations
There is an interesting tension to explore between having expectations and having "none". Most people tend to associate "having no expectations" with a kind of freedom. For example, if I am buying a new stereo with no expectations regarding how it should sound, then naturally I won't feel bad if it doesn't sound as good as the others. However, the idea that having no expectations is "liberating" is a bit misleading. What "no expectations" often translates to is a kind of unwillingness to share in the emotions of others. In that sense, not having any expectations might be concealing a desire to avoid struggles altogether.
It seems that the best expectations are the ones that are truly shared between people. By this, I mean that the expectation translates to concern and responsibility. In the case of being part of a spiritual organization, expectations are not just flights of fancy, but they are made concrete by the day to day decisions and operations of many working in tandem. Sharing expectations does not mean that people feel the same way, or are telepathically in tune with others. Rather, it relates more to a sense of having to take steps in doing things and make small efforts in a shared vision. This seems to me to be a kind of channeling of one's natural tendency to dream into something that is not entirely predictable and might not even suit people's whims of the moment. Yet, somehow, what makes the shared dream special is precisely that it is not meant to cater to the ego; it's a kind of project in which people are gradually relinquishing their desire to control every emotional state they have in service of a bigger ideal.
It seems that the best expectations are the ones that are truly shared between people. By this, I mean that the expectation translates to concern and responsibility. In the case of being part of a spiritual organization, expectations are not just flights of fancy, but they are made concrete by the day to day decisions and operations of many working in tandem. Sharing expectations does not mean that people feel the same way, or are telepathically in tune with others. Rather, it relates more to a sense of having to take steps in doing things and make small efforts in a shared vision. This seems to me to be a kind of channeling of one's natural tendency to dream into something that is not entirely predictable and might not even suit people's whims of the moment. Yet, somehow, what makes the shared dream special is precisely that it is not meant to cater to the ego; it's a kind of project in which people are gradually relinquishing their desire to control every emotional state they have in service of a bigger ideal.
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Esoteric Practices
This morning, I was reading chapter 45 of Master Sheng Yen's Common Questions on the Practice of Buddhism, called "Esoteric Buddhism and the Fate of Buddhism". This chapter describes the way that esoteric Buddhism tends to rely on the special powers of teachers, which can make it particularly vulnerable to straying from the Buddha's actual teachings. As I was reading this chapter, what struck me was how appealing it is to find a personal teacher who somehow speaks to one's own personal affinities and interests. I also begin to wonder, why might charismatic leadership have a large role to play in the way people are attracted to Buddhist or other spiritual teachings?
One particular answer I was reflecting on is the potentially psychotherapeutic dynamic that might sometimes happen between a guru and a student. Rather than simply serving to point to one's mind, spiritual teachers might also serve the purpose of providing missing or incomplete roles from a student's childhood, such as that of a parental figure, while gradually subverting or weaning the student off such relationships. Particularly in the case of tantric practices (of which I profess to know very little), I do wonder whether the supposed completion of male and female energies might correspond to or at least appeal to someone whose personal dynamics with the opposite sex might be underdeveloped or somehow unresolved. Could it be that some of these practices mirror a "rapprochement" that might resolve old issues from a person's past, or at least in one's current relationships?
Many Buddhist practitioners shy away from more esoteric practices. However, I do have to wonder whether having such practices or even knowing they exist might serve as a repository for unfinished or incomplete emotions--almost serving as a kind of shadow where one's transgressions are played out, yet "in the safety of one's mind" rather than being enacted. Eventually, one matures away from these incomplete emotions when one realizes (perhaps to one's disappointment) that there isn't really an all-knowing caregiver who is able to fulfill such desires whenever one wants them. In this way, one safely lands back to the Four Noble Truths, yet much more empowered not to revisit the past hopes of an all-knowing, omnipotent parental figure who can buffer one from such truths.
ShengYen (2017). Common Questions on the Practice of Buddhism. New York: Sheng Yen Education Foundation
One particular answer I was reflecting on is the potentially psychotherapeutic dynamic that might sometimes happen between a guru and a student. Rather than simply serving to point to one's mind, spiritual teachers might also serve the purpose of providing missing or incomplete roles from a student's childhood, such as that of a parental figure, while gradually subverting or weaning the student off such relationships. Particularly in the case of tantric practices (of which I profess to know very little), I do wonder whether the supposed completion of male and female energies might correspond to or at least appeal to someone whose personal dynamics with the opposite sex might be underdeveloped or somehow unresolved. Could it be that some of these practices mirror a "rapprochement" that might resolve old issues from a person's past, or at least in one's current relationships?
Many Buddhist practitioners shy away from more esoteric practices. However, I do have to wonder whether having such practices or even knowing they exist might serve as a repository for unfinished or incomplete emotions--almost serving as a kind of shadow where one's transgressions are played out, yet "in the safety of one's mind" rather than being enacted. Eventually, one matures away from these incomplete emotions when one realizes (perhaps to one's disappointment) that there isn't really an all-knowing caregiver who is able to fulfill such desires whenever one wants them. In this way, one safely lands back to the Four Noble Truths, yet much more empowered not to revisit the past hopes of an all-knowing, omnipotent parental figure who can buffer one from such truths.
ShengYen (2017). Common Questions on the Practice of Buddhism. New York: Sheng Yen Education Foundation
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