Tuesday 29 January 2013

On Being a Light to Oneself: educating the spirit


The narrow streets of the city of lakes and palaces are cold for the sun is only beginning its morning journey from behind the surrounding hills.  We walk swiftly over the bridge, past quietly ruminating cows and through the small groups of people chatting at the beginning of the day.  Today we are being taken out into the hills to meet a remarkable group of young people who are gathering together to share their stories of their own routes that have taken them away from conventional education.

To feel the sanctity of life is to acknowledge the sacred in all individuals.  In language that is free from any religious associations we might phrase it as the observation of the unique qualities of each individual.  Educating the spirit is about ensuring that these qualities are able flow, in a way that is not destructive to other living beings, that connects freedom with responsibility and encourages a life worth living.  It seems to me that to enjoy one’s humanity is to be learning about oneself: to be exploring all humanity through oneself.  This is a long way from the pursuit of success and the need to validate oneself through achievement which appears to be the motivation in life currently being encouraged; this invariably leads to self-absorption.

‘Do not believe a thing simply because it has been said.
Do not put your faith in traditions only because they have been honoured by many generations.
Do not believe anything because the general opinion believes it to be true or because it has been said repeatedly.
Do not believe a thing because of the single witness of one of the sages of antiquity.
Do not believe a thing because the probabilities are in its favour, or you are in the habit of believing it to be true.
Do not believe in that which comes to your imagination, thinking it must be the revelation of a superior being.
Believe nothing that binds you to the sole authority of your masters or priests.
That which you have tried yourself, which you have experienced, which you recognize as true
And which will be beneficial to you and to others;
Believe that, and shape your conduct to it.’                           Buddha

We are sitting in a circle; threadbare carpets have been put down for us to sit on and we are exposed to the sun as it is still morning and the warmth is welcome.  In the sky above the bare hills soars a majestic bird, its wings hardly move as the warm currents of the emerging day carry it upwards.  It is joined by another and together the birds land by the lake, their vast wings flap slowly and their heavy bodies hop ungainly on the rough ground as they settle.  The circle is made up of young women and men, mostly in their early to mid twenties, their smiles are friendly and they are affectionate with each other.  We hear the accounts of their individual experiences of freeing themselves from the accepted system of school-college-university to learn what they want, to be involved in those things that are fed by their interests and their particular concerns.  Some of them have parental support; others have had to justify their actions to both friends and family; some come from comfortable middle-class families and others have emerged from the margins of society where survival is always an issue.  All of them are driven by a passion to make things better for others, environmental and social concerns at the core of their lives.  One girl has made a film about the only female rickshaw driver in Udaipur; a boy is studying community theatre and is involved with a group of social activists; all are active with their own and often wider community.

‘Most parents unfortunately think that they are responsible for their children and their sense of responsibility takes the form of telling them what they should do, what they should not do, what they should become and what they should not become.  The parents want their children to have a secure position in society.  What they call responsibility is part of that respectability which they worship; and it seems to me that where there is respectability there is no order.  Do you call that care and love?’                J Krishnamurti

Some days later we are further north in a village in Rajasthan sitting in a small, dark room lit only by a single solar lamp.  There are two men and we are joined by a succession of young children who are here to learn to read and write; we have come to one of the night schools run by the NGO we are staying with.  These girls and boys aged from about nine to twelve years have been out in the fields, helping at home, looking after animals, taking care of siblings.  They are huddled in coarse, tired looking clothes as the evening is cool.  One of the children is the Prime Minister of the Children’s Parliament; she is a stern girl coming up to thirteen years old, straight faced and eyes that hold an understanding beyond her years.  We have a question and answer session: we ask of their lives and their concerns, they ask us about farming and land use in our country, showing what is really important in their lives.  Before we leave the children sing to us and we walk out into the dark having been part of another world, touched by sincerity and thoughtfulness often difficult to find in the prosperous parts of the world.

In her book, ‘Rabindranath Tagore: The Poet as Educator’, Kathleen M O’Connell writes about Tagore in the context of Western progressive-humanist education and describes this type of education as using ‘an organic model of education that emphasizes individual independence and focuses on the unfolding of a child’s personality in a non-threatening environment’.  This is the basis of self-directed learning: the preservation of natural curiosity, the exploration and expansion of individual interest, and a continuing sense of connection with nature and, thus, humanity.  Certainly this cannot take place in large authoritarian institutions based on hierarchical decision making promoting competition, conformity and uniformity of thinking.  So do we look to create different kinds of institutions or, perhaps, no institutions at all?


The young people we met outside Udaipur are part of Swaraj University.  Swaraj being the term used by Gandhi regarding not just self-determination for India, but self-direction for the individual.  More can be found out about Swaraj University at www.swarajuniversity.org .

The NGO that organizes the Children’s Parliament, night schools and many other things is Barefoot College.  Also much influenced by Gandhi’s outlook there is a policy of encouraging grassroots participation whilst actively discouraging the input of highly qualified experts.  Barefoot College website is www.barefootcollege.org .

Tuesday 8 January 2013

Tagore and Education: educating the spirit


For a second we stop and look upwards.  There in the tree are three small owls, their downy heads and piercing, unblinking eyes face us whilst their bodies are hidden by the dark branch.  It is late afternoon in Santiniketan in West Bengal and the sun is going down, easing us from the heat and bringing a crowd of bicycles and cycle rickshaws as students and workers begin their journeys home.  Even now there are mercifully few cars.  We are at the place where Rabindranath Tagore began his experiment in education which began with the School (Patha-Bhavana) in 1901 and then extended to the University (Visva-Bharati) in the 1920s.  They are both now Government run institutions on a heritage site attempting to cling on to the original influence of the remarkable poet and educator.  Having had their fill of us, the three tiny owls fly away noiselessly.

 ‘Where the mind is without fear and the head held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from depths of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way in the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, awake.’
This well-known poem was published as part of Gitanjali by the Nobel Prize winning poet and educator, Rabindranath Tagore, in 1910.

There is a distinction about the school set up by Tagore in Santiniketan, even now; and this is that all lessons are taken outside.  We have walked around the sprawling campus and watched the children sitting under the trees.  They sit in a semi-circle with the teacher facing them, birds sing all around them, dogs come and lie nearby, cows meander past.  There is ample opportunity for day-dreaming, for letting the attention wander from the teacher.  And when the lesson is over the children move on to another class, sometimes they stop and play, or they become involved in chatting or an individual might find her or his gaze caught by something that is much more engrossing than the prospect of another lesson.  In all this the teacher’s authority is significantly changed by the loss of the four walls to contain her or his students: there is an equalizing quality that happens when learning takes place outside in Nature.
In a conversation that Paramahansa Yoganananda recorded in his book, ‘Autobiography of a Yogi’ he noted that Tagore ‘fled from school after the Fifth Grade’.  ‘I could readily understand how his innate poetic delicacy would be affronted by the dreary disciplinary atmosphere of a schoolroom,’ stated Yogananda .
Tagore added,’ a child is in his natural setting amidst the flowers and the songbirds.  There he may more easily express the hidden wealth of his individual endowment.  True education is not pumped and crammed in from outward sources, but aids in bringing to the surface the infinite hoard of wisdom within.’ (My italics)

Certain aspects of freedom are beloved by the vast majority of children.  Watch them as they spill from their schools, as they race out into the open and metaphorically spread their wings in the relief of physical freedom. 

‘ Rabindranath believed in helping children realise the great potential human beings are born with… Freedom of man was the basic assumption and an interaction of man and nature; man and man; man and higher truth were considered the highest value.  Individual differences were not only respected, but were actually nurtured.  At the same time selfishness was condemned. Under these conditions competition was totally discouraged; punishment and stifling had no place in the system; stereotyped examinations were discarded….’
Supriyo Tagore  Principal of Patha-Bhavan for 22 years.

My wife, Maggie, and our youngest son, Josh, have made a short film based on interviews we held at Santiniketan and Rajghat-Besant Education Centre in Varanasi for a presentation at the Tagore Festival at Dartington Hall in 2011.  It contains a flavor of Tagore’s approach to education and extracts from two songs composed by him.  The link is  http://youtu.be/ZPilYWJ-ruY if you care to watch.


Is this the only way we can live? A brief reflection.


It is the beginning of a new year and one of those continuously grey days when the soft slate clouds seem to settle inside the head.  It is time for reflection; to nurture the seed that might flower in the Spring.

There has been some interest in this blog, some words of encouragement and my own sense that I am expressing something worthwhile.  The ‘Educating the Spirit’ work appears to be a seed deserving of good soil and gentle watering.  Similarly, the ‘Links with India’ project ( www.linkswithindia.com )  that Maggie and I have developed appears to be worthy of increased and continuing attention.  I have a feeling that with both of these their real potential has yet to be unearthed and we do not know what they will look like when fully in flower.

From India comes my stream of inspiration – not the place violence and hatred currently being so horrifically portrayed in the global media coverage of the rape of the young girl in Delhi, but that where the ancient thread of compassion and intelligence is found in quiet places and smiling faces.  Nor that place where men fight to maintain power over women, expressing their impotency through acts of appalling violence, but where women are so often the embodiment of courage, resourcefulness and understanding.  There is a very interesting quotation from Krishnamurti written down by Professor P Krishna in 'Krishnamurti as I knew him.' -

'Shall I tell you what is unique about this country (India)?  I have travelled all over the world, and I have watched.  This is the only country left where the poor still smile. ....  Then he added, ' Although we are losing that quality in our country, it is still there.'

So the writing will continue and I intend to extend the exploration into travel and discussion with young and old:  there is a seed of a plan to visit India in the summer.  There is more writing and many photographs.  I am embarking on the second year of the seventh decade of my life and can no longer stand and watch the world disintegrate around me – the lonely desperation of the old, the fear and insecurity of the young in a society where lies, greed and arrogance is rewarded whilst honesty and compassion are reviled as signs of weakness.  I have very little to offer – no business sense, no strident leadership with charismatic speeches to create a world changing movement and certainly no sparkling wit and clever use of language.  Maybe all I can do is to be part of that ever increasing river of reflection that is asking: Is this the only way we can live?