Okay, okay - I admit it. I am finally disgruntled. How come people visit my blog but leave no comments? The posts aren't that abstruse or nonsensical, even if I say so myself.
Why won't anyone post some comments? Is there nothing to be said? The last post that received a decent number of comments (of course half of the comments were my own!) was the one on exams!
I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. First just "write for fun and because it's almost like meditation, and so enjoyable anyway." And five days down the line, "Why won't anyone say anything?"
Oh, the irony of it!
Anyway, I'm going back to writing my wugga-wugga Statistics paper. Maybe it might "talk back to me."
-----29th April 2008
Wrote that above bit about a week ago. Today's the 3rd Of May. And I'm still feeling disgruntled. Not as much as before but I was quite smugly convinced that I would reach absolute "equanimity" regarding "non-responses" by this week. What a hope! There'll be more posts in the coming week. Well, at least one fresh one, which is jostling with another one to get "published" first.
Well, cheerio folks. Have a happy weekend….
Here it looks like a travelling tornado might go by any moment now. And yes, we apparently had an earthquake last week, on Friday. Somebody at the bus-stop said it was 6.2 on the Richter scale, and I had looked away embarrassed (in my head I'd said, "We wouldn't be standing here buddy, if that were a 6.2) but held my tongue. I slept through the earthquake though. Didn't feel a thing. Having gone to sleep really, really late - maybe half an hour before the earthquake hit (the ground rumbled and trembled at 5.37 a.m or so I heard, and read) - but I slept like a baby. Heard from Joe that he'd been having frightful dreams, and had been dreaming about a huge rumbling, hooting train, and he shot up awake, and felt the rumbling, and the trembling, and he was struck with horror thinking that a train was coming hurtling through his window (I think that's what he said). Namrata, when she felt the earthquake had greatly desired to go running outside, and feel the earth trembling beneath her feet. Ehren sounded just as excited about the earthquake. In fact he hollered across the road asking me whether I'd felt it, and I'd asked him, "Felt what?" Of course everyone was glad that it hadn’t been a “real” earthquake.
Apparently when I was 11 or 12 there had been an earthquake in Durgapur. But I had slept through that one as well.
As for the tornado warnings. We get them like clockwork every summer and spring. At least once. One thing I've never figured out is why they tell us to run down into the basement and stay there. Well - I get the "practical" side of it. But who's to say that anyone will be found after and if the rubble is ever cleared once a tornado does indeed fly by this sleepy town? Maybe one will be buried under the rubble and have to stay there with no smokes or drinks and no (terror of terrors) loo. Of course I don't know what I'd really do if a tornado did hit - but in the house that I now live (It is the best-est house on the best-est street - and this is the Absolute Truth) - the basement is certainly not a place to stay. The whole house (which is pretty old) will definitely collapse if a serious tornado does a pretty whirldance through our street. My whole street has pretty old houses...and most of them will probably disappear alongwith most of their inmates - because somehow I think almost all the eccentric inmates on our street will probably come charging down into the streets instead of staying down in the basement if indeed a tornado does come flying through. Or we might all get orange cones, and place caution signs all over - so that the tornado decides to leave us alone. I do think some of the inmates on the street might just do that…
I remember some 5 years ago – ‘round about the same time (almost exactly) a tornado warning had come through. I was staying in a delightful studio apartment at that point in time – having moved out of a Black Hole of a Dorm room where I’d spent the second year. My studio apartment was a little “sunken” into the ground, had huge French windows – which I never locked, and a porch. And since it was sunken – I could see the grass, the pretty flowers that erupted from the grass, the trees which had sprung lovely green shoots through the late Spring, and the early summer that had set in. And as I said, the door was always kept ajar when I was in the apartment, and was never locked even when I was out. In fact I had made it into a habit to make my exit and entrance by climbing out of the porch or leaping in. The studio had a bathroom the size of a royal Basket-ball field (well, almost). And a bath-tub (but obviously). And it had a walk-in closet where I did spend a considerable amount of time every now and again. It had a mini kitchen, and all the kitchen paraphernalia. It was a very well-kept apartment, and rent was cheap, and I’d done it up well, and after the previous Fall, and Spring which were rather ghastly – the apartment itself was enough to keep my head out of water, and the greyness which had been sweeping around.
Anyway, to get back to the tornado. So a tornado warning had come through. Outside the weather had really cracked up. Huge gales were blowing and howling. It was hardly past noon, but the sky, if it didn’t look black certainly looked ominous. Rain jets spurted through – but quite obstinately I refused to shut the Glass door. I sat there with my coffee and music and cigarettes, and my notebook – when the thought hit me that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go walking near the river. And without wasting another second, I slipped my sneakers on, a long black raincoat (which belonged to my mum, and was some 20 years old – but as good as new. It makes me look like a detective or straight out of The Matrix when I wear it – even now. I always find myself wishing I were a few inches taller when I put that raincoat on), grabbed my packet of cigarettes, and a lighter, and made my way out of the porch.
Off to the river it was!
And the wind blew. And the rains blew into and across my face. Some folks whizzing by in their cars gave me “looks” and I grinned my toothy grin at them or gave them my blank impassive stare or glare as the fancy and mood caught me. I don’t know what scared them more – the grin or the glare. And I walked on. By the time I got to the Walkbridge over the river, I wasn’t really wet but fairly damp and soaking. Every now and again – I had felt that I would be blown away – but that didn’t happen. I, of course poo-poohed the idea of a real tornado ever coming through.
So there I was walking along the overbridge. The river looked nicely swollen. Not too much. And not too little. There were pretty currents whirling around in it, and the banks were covered in fresh, sprightly lime and laughing green grass stalks and shrubs, and the huge trees rose just a couple of feet further along, and completely overtook the landscape. That bridge and the river and the trees and the little train station across – makes this part of my town look almost European. Especially if you look across and catch sight of all the church steeples, and the famously Ugly but Grand County Court House. I surveyed my surroundings – only the rain sprays shooting into my face made it sort of difficult to keep my eyes open. At one point I remember thinking that I’d lost one of my contacts – but it had merely been dislodged with the rain jets. By this time of course my hair was completely plastered all over my head – so at least my hairmop wasn’t obstructing my view.
I lit a cigarette after some moments, and it got rather drenched in barely 17 seconds – but I didn’t care. I still puffed at it valiantly, and it didn’t go out on me. Finally after maybe a little over 33 minutes or so – I got up. The wind was still lashing around. But there really wasn’t much rain, or so I kept telling myself. It was just that the rain sprays were getting swept around in the gales. I walked around on the bridge for another some seconds, and finally walked back home. Not so much walked to be honest as much as forcibly pushed, and prodded, and hastily bumped along by the wind.
So I made it home pretty quick – even though it was uphill from the river.
As soon as I got near my porch to make my entrance – I spotted a head bobbing up and down near the stairway. And it looked like a familiar head. I was just about to go in from the proper entrance – when the head along with the body came out. And there was Beth.
“Where in heaven’s name were you?”
“Taking a walk by the river. Why?”
“Don’t you know a tornado warning has come through!”
“Ah…you don’t say.”
(And of course these were the wonderful days when I didn’t have a phone. I was quite relieved not having one, until my bro’ sent me his old phone through the mail!)
Beth and I walked back into my studio. I dropped in through the porch. I guess she did the same or walked through the proper door, down the stairs, and left turn. I don’t remember. I made some more coffee, and we had some cookies (biscuits. Biscuits – for crying out loud!). I put on some music. The rains were coming down without too much wind whipping around. At least that’s what I remember. I sat right near the Glass Door (French Windows/Glass doors – they’re the same thing) of course , looking outside, and steadily smoking and sipping my coffee. Beth was seated across near the foot of my bed or on a chair. And she gurgled with, “Shilps. It may not be the best thing to be sitting right in front of the window you know…”
“Ha-ha…maybe we should go and hide in the dryers or the washing machines.”
At that we laughed some more. There was some quiet conversation that bounced off the silence, some faint glass-bubble music playing in the background (I have the feeling it was Beth’s Jack Johnson cd), and then some time later Beth made her exit through the proper doorway. I went back to pottering around.
And the tornado went off to sleep.
29 April 2008
27 April 2008
In connection to Magical Teachers
I received some interesting questions from Sayan who took the time to write in his comments for the post "Magical Teachers Through the Centuries". There seems to be some general confusion regarding my post on 'Magical teachers...' While answering Sayan's questions, I went into long explanations - and I think the questions and the comments may as well be another blog-post.
Dear Sayan,
First off, I’ll thank you for taking the time to post such a carefully thought out comment.
I’ll answer your questions as best as I can. And I will say at the onset that this is how I ‘see’ it; this is what I have learned through time and space: given that I’m looking at the world with the lenses that I wear – and my lenses make me see the world in a particular way (the notion of the ‘lenses shape the world that we see’ is from Steven Covey).
In addtion: One point I should clear out is that my focus ultimately was not so much on Teachers and Students as isolated islands but on the interactive and circular nature of certain Teacher-Student relationships. By "Interactive" and "circular" I essentially mean that love, trust, respect, admiration, and much more and beyond are mutual sentiments, experienced by both the Teacher and The Student for each other in these relationships, and these sentiments cannot be categorized by the label of "how much" and "who respects/loves the other more". Thus my focus was on these relationships that are created, these bonds that are co-established, these connections/this communion that is shared - sometimes inarticulate, sometimes inexpressible, and sometimes voiced, but always unique, and inordinately precious between certain "Magical" Teachers and some "Mystical" Students through the centuries.
Having said that, I’ll take up your comments point by point.
1. “This absolute trust for a teacher that you are talking about - does it imply blind trust?”
I am very wary of using the term ‘blind’ trust; although I will call it an ‘intuitive trust’. I do not believe in completely discounting my own experiences and my own lessons – no matter what. I take what comes from a teacher (any teacher) –and I take in the teachings from teachers I respect, love, and trust – with both more and less resistance. I know that sounds contradictory – but that’s the way I work. I swallow a lot of my pride and let my ego rest a bit but at the same time there is an increase in my stubbornness. While I don’t completely discount and throw away ‘my’ own experiences – I still pay and keep on paying close attention to what is coming from My Teacher, and keep weighing out the scales.
In this context I will say that personally, I have in rare encounters experienced Absolute Trust. The funny thing is that I have noticed that Absolute Trust too has qualitatively different textures to it. But about this - some other day. But yes, I have experienced absolute trust, which comes from somewhere very deep inside.
2. “…it seems to me that it ultimately boils down to the honesty of the teacher and the student towards themselves first and then towards each other. But are there not instances when two highly knowledgeable and honest people look at the same thing and see it differently?”
a. It’s not about ‘knowledge’ and honesty alone – although these are definitely important. Knowledge could refer to book-knowledge; it could refer to ‘how much’ an individual knows, it could refer to how much ‘information’ an individual can remember over the years, it can also refer to the interconnections made through one’s readings and experiences.
b. But there are other extremely essential components, which to me are those of wisdom, consciousness, sensitivity, spirituality, and awareness. All these are not identical although interrelated terms, and these terms mean something specific to me. The way for me to sense these in a teacher (or in anyone for that matter) is not through my analytical and logical skills (although these help in certain specific situations) – but come to me in an intuitive flash. I know; I sense, and I feel these although I may not have any ‘rational proof’ of the same in the first instant.
Once again a) and b) are most definitely inter-related – at least for me. Both a) and b) in a teacher brings about balance in my mind.
3. “For instance many great people have been known to be unbalanced and whimsical, sometimes to the point of being destructive and yet, it must be agreed that there is a very close connection between their unbalanced ways and their creative genius.”
I happen to have read (and still read) a fair bit on the interconnections between creativity and genius, and had been extremely intrigued about these interconnections for the longest time. (The substantive area of “Creativity/Genius and what is currently known as ‘Bi-polar’ disorder” made up for awhile my main readings for my Masters). While it is a humongous area to wade through in some ways, and there are seeming contradictions and paradoxes in the understanding of the issue, I can (in brief) for the time being present my understanding of it.
My understanding is that while the ‘whimsical and unbalanced’ geniuses did indeed create fine works of art, and MAY indeed not have produced these had they not been thus; I would say that there is still the higher probability not to mention possibility that had they been able to ‘stabilise’ themselves and ‘balance’ themselves, and ‘integrate’ themselves – they would have lived longer for one thing, (instead of killing themselves or simply dying young through repeated fits of frenzy), and they would’ve kept producing fine pieces.
Also, if you dig a little deeper you will find that the most ‘productive’ geniuses were the ones that were ‘stable’ and ‘balanced’ and ‘integrated’. I can cite the standing example of Tagore. This does not mean that he did not experience enormous highs and lows, nor does it mean that he lacked sensitivity or fineness – it simply means that he did not destruct other lives around him nor did he self-explode in a massive fit of destruction.
Yet another fine example is that of St. Francis of Assisi, who as the ‘story’ goes, had fantastic visions and was hearing the Voice of God. Finally came a day when he was running down the roads stark naked, yelling and bellowing “we must build a church on the end of this road. God told me to…!” He was pelted with stones and driven away.
He left for the forest. Meditated. “Calmed himself down”. Regained/reconnected to his Sense of Balance. Reached “Enlightenment” (or call it what-you-will). He left the forest after re-integrating with His Self, His Spirit, His God, and the rest of course is History.
So personally I have come to the firm conclusion that there is nothing good in being ‘wayward and unbalanced’ (being whimsical in moderate doses is actually fine, at least in my book). Yes, possibly the merit of ‘creative genius’ might do a bit to dampen the pain and the agony that these individuals go through. Yet channelized creative passion is the only form that really ‘works in the long run’.
Also, it needs to be understood that even Van Gogh - emotionally and mentally unbalanced as he was, was certainly not "unbalanced" when he was painting. So one thing is clear: Unbalanced as one may be - in order to DO anything 'well' or in order to be "outstanding" one must be FIRMLY balanced while engaged in that creative act (be that painting, composing, sculpting, what-have-you).
Also, my additional tuppence thoughts on this is that most scholars and practioners (with very few exceptions) who have brought our attention to the interconnections among The (Un)Holy Trinity of "Creativity, Genius and Madness" have not made a clear and important distinction between balance and repression. And THIS according to me has been the problem in our comprehension of the "Mad Artist". The "Mad Artist" too can lead a perfectly balanced, creative, passionate, and fulfilling life. The key is to not "repress" the "Mad Artist" but to lead him/her to a state where s/he can engage in a balanced but no less creative state of being and doing. This is of course a topic, about which much much more can be said, but my ‘relatively' short answer would be the above.
4. “Hence in situations where the student realizes that the teacher, with all his knowledge, honesty and wisdom is strait jacketing him on a front, which he (the student) associates with his very survival; what path must he follow then?”
Ha!Ha!Ha! The student must follow The Path of HIS/HER CHOICE. Where is the dilemma here? But remember there are other aspects apart from knowledge, honesty, and wisdom. Also there is the art and science of balance. But certainly – all said and done it is the student who makes certain choices (if not all of them!). As has been said – even the greatest teachers can only point to The Path(s). The rest is upto the student/disciple.
5. “Lastly, they say that the task of a teacher is to help his student look at things with clarity, cognition and equanimity and learn to trust himself- rather that inner voice within.”
First off ‘cognition’ itself means either ‘the process of knowing’ or the ‘end product of knowing’. So I’d say that a teacher helps his/her students cognize with clarity and equanimity, among other things, and I will say a resounding ‘yes’ in relation to ‘trusting and listening to the Inner Voice.’
6. “But when a student reaches that state he doesn’t need the teacher anymore. Now, when both the teacher and the student have elevated themselves to both moral and intellectual profoundness; is it possible that their ideals won’t match, even be sometimes exactly opposite?”
Insofar as ‘need’ is concerned: possibly, possibly not. This really and fully depends upon how one understands and what one means by the word ‘need’.
I, for one will. As I understand ‘need’. Yet I cannot make generalizations from my own perspective. But true enough – the form and the content of that need changes through any meaningful ‘teacher-student’ interaction.
As for your last question: I can’t give you a pat answer. That is, once again – I can forward my own views and in connection to what I’ve seen around me – but I cannot say ‘yes, of course’, or ‘no, of course not.’
But I will once again stress that ‘intellect’ or even ‘basic goodness’ alone are not what are of absolute importance to me. Intellect at least as I see it – is much too bound and constricted. Even basic ‘good’ morality is not what makes for ‘profound’ spiritual experiences, unique lessons and crucial teachings. Therefore I would have to go back to my tenets of spirituality, awareness, consciousness, sensitivity, and wisdom – which lead to the fine and final balance.
Would Ramkrishna be seen as a man of ‘intellect’, for instance? You see, there is more to being a Teacher (at least the kinds that I am concerned about in my essay) than being ‘honest’ and intellectually gifted.
Thus, I would say that in ‘intellectual’ matters, students and teachers may certainly experience a complete rift. No doubt about that. Jung and Freud, for example had parted ways.
However, in the most profound sense – true teachers and disciples most likely will not be at complete loggerheads regarding the truly cardinal ‘ideals’ (whatever that be: whether it is the belief in Work, Life, and Love as being sacred or whether it be the belief in the Unity of Self or what-have-you).
7. “I couldn’t figure out who was right and who was wrong – it seemed to me that both were right in themselves. So in cases where right and wrong overlap and merge to become obscure (or seem to be so) what is the way out?”
This is a very interesting question (as were all your questions) because there are a couple of ways to answer it. I will answer it in immediate terms. In some ways I’ve already hinted to it. The personal lenses through which I view my world indeed do make a difference.
Not knowing though exactly what the ‘dispute’ between the fictional characters was – I can’t give you a very definite answer.
But no matter. I will still articulate a method that I have found useful in different ways and at different times.
In cases where ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ do seemingly merge – one has to ‘see’ the problem. And I can’t stress this enough. One must see it as hard and as long and as intensely as one is able to within one’s mind – if one is serious about getting to the bottom and the top of the answer that satisfies one’s Spirit/Soul/Self. Sometimes the answers may jolly well come across as contradictions or paradoxes. But once one gets beyond that – one is able to ‘see’ a little more clearly than before. The other point to remember is that not each and every ‘problem’ or dichotomy needs to be understood, and ‘seen’. The key is to look for abstractions alongwith specifics. The key is to be able to cluster and divide and then cluster up all the apparently related issues, which one is trying to understand or resolve.
There, I’ve reached the end of your question list. And no, I didn’t for one moment think that you were nit-picking or trying to pose as a ‘know-it-all’. I hope some of my points may be of some help.
Once again: Thank you for raising the questions that you have!
Take care.
Shilpidi
Dear Sayan,
First off, I’ll thank you for taking the time to post such a carefully thought out comment.
I’ll answer your questions as best as I can. And I will say at the onset that this is how I ‘see’ it; this is what I have learned through time and space: given that I’m looking at the world with the lenses that I wear – and my lenses make me see the world in a particular way (the notion of the ‘lenses shape the world that we see’ is from Steven Covey).
In addtion: One point I should clear out is that my focus ultimately was not so much on Teachers and Students as isolated islands but on the interactive and circular nature of certain Teacher-Student relationships. By "Interactive" and "circular" I essentially mean that love, trust, respect, admiration, and much more and beyond are mutual sentiments, experienced by both the Teacher and The Student for each other in these relationships, and these sentiments cannot be categorized by the label of "how much" and "who respects/loves the other more". Thus my focus was on these relationships that are created, these bonds that are co-established, these connections/this communion that is shared - sometimes inarticulate, sometimes inexpressible, and sometimes voiced, but always unique, and inordinately precious between certain "Magical" Teachers and some "Mystical" Students through the centuries.
Having said that, I’ll take up your comments point by point.
1. “This absolute trust for a teacher that you are talking about - does it imply blind trust?”
I am very wary of using the term ‘blind’ trust; although I will call it an ‘intuitive trust’. I do not believe in completely discounting my own experiences and my own lessons – no matter what. I take what comes from a teacher (any teacher) –and I take in the teachings from teachers I respect, love, and trust – with both more and less resistance. I know that sounds contradictory – but that’s the way I work. I swallow a lot of my pride and let my ego rest a bit but at the same time there is an increase in my stubbornness. While I don’t completely discount and throw away ‘my’ own experiences – I still pay and keep on paying close attention to what is coming from My Teacher, and keep weighing out the scales.
In this context I will say that personally, I have in rare encounters experienced Absolute Trust. The funny thing is that I have noticed that Absolute Trust too has qualitatively different textures to it. But about this - some other day. But yes, I have experienced absolute trust, which comes from somewhere very deep inside.
2. “…it seems to me that it ultimately boils down to the honesty of the teacher and the student towards themselves first and then towards each other. But are there not instances when two highly knowledgeable and honest people look at the same thing and see it differently?”
a. It’s not about ‘knowledge’ and honesty alone – although these are definitely important. Knowledge could refer to book-knowledge; it could refer to ‘how much’ an individual knows, it could refer to how much ‘information’ an individual can remember over the years, it can also refer to the interconnections made through one’s readings and experiences.
b. But there are other extremely essential components, which to me are those of wisdom, consciousness, sensitivity, spirituality, and awareness. All these are not identical although interrelated terms, and these terms mean something specific to me. The way for me to sense these in a teacher (or in anyone for that matter) is not through my analytical and logical skills (although these help in certain specific situations) – but come to me in an intuitive flash. I know; I sense, and I feel these although I may not have any ‘rational proof’ of the same in the first instant.
Once again a) and b) are most definitely inter-related – at least for me. Both a) and b) in a teacher brings about balance in my mind.
3. “For instance many great people have been known to be unbalanced and whimsical, sometimes to the point of being destructive and yet, it must be agreed that there is a very close connection between their unbalanced ways and their creative genius.”
I happen to have read (and still read) a fair bit on the interconnections between creativity and genius, and had been extremely intrigued about these interconnections for the longest time. (The substantive area of “Creativity/Genius and what is currently known as ‘Bi-polar’ disorder” made up for awhile my main readings for my Masters). While it is a humongous area to wade through in some ways, and there are seeming contradictions and paradoxes in the understanding of the issue, I can (in brief) for the time being present my understanding of it.
My understanding is that while the ‘whimsical and unbalanced’ geniuses did indeed create fine works of art, and MAY indeed not have produced these had they not been thus; I would say that there is still the higher probability not to mention possibility that had they been able to ‘stabilise’ themselves and ‘balance’ themselves, and ‘integrate’ themselves – they would have lived longer for one thing, (instead of killing themselves or simply dying young through repeated fits of frenzy), and they would’ve kept producing fine pieces.
Also, if you dig a little deeper you will find that the most ‘productive’ geniuses were the ones that were ‘stable’ and ‘balanced’ and ‘integrated’. I can cite the standing example of Tagore. This does not mean that he did not experience enormous highs and lows, nor does it mean that he lacked sensitivity or fineness – it simply means that he did not destruct other lives around him nor did he self-explode in a massive fit of destruction.
Yet another fine example is that of St. Francis of Assisi, who as the ‘story’ goes, had fantastic visions and was hearing the Voice of God. Finally came a day when he was running down the roads stark naked, yelling and bellowing “we must build a church on the end of this road. God told me to…!” He was pelted with stones and driven away.
He left for the forest. Meditated. “Calmed himself down”. Regained/reconnected to his Sense of Balance. Reached “Enlightenment” (or call it what-you-will). He left the forest after re-integrating with His Self, His Spirit, His God, and the rest of course is History.
So personally I have come to the firm conclusion that there is nothing good in being ‘wayward and unbalanced’ (being whimsical in moderate doses is actually fine, at least in my book). Yes, possibly the merit of ‘creative genius’ might do a bit to dampen the pain and the agony that these individuals go through. Yet channelized creative passion is the only form that really ‘works in the long run’.
Also, it needs to be understood that even Van Gogh - emotionally and mentally unbalanced as he was, was certainly not "unbalanced" when he was painting. So one thing is clear: Unbalanced as one may be - in order to DO anything 'well' or in order to be "outstanding" one must be FIRMLY balanced while engaged in that creative act (be that painting, composing, sculpting, what-have-you).
Also, my additional tuppence thoughts on this is that most scholars and practioners (with very few exceptions) who have brought our attention to the interconnections among The (Un)Holy Trinity of "Creativity, Genius and Madness" have not made a clear and important distinction between balance and repression. And THIS according to me has been the problem in our comprehension of the "Mad Artist". The "Mad Artist" too can lead a perfectly balanced, creative, passionate, and fulfilling life. The key is to not "repress" the "Mad Artist" but to lead him/her to a state where s/he can engage in a balanced but no less creative state of being and doing. This is of course a topic, about which much much more can be said, but my ‘relatively' short answer would be the above.
4. “Hence in situations where the student realizes that the teacher, with all his knowledge, honesty and wisdom is strait jacketing him on a front, which he (the student) associates with his very survival; what path must he follow then?”
Ha!Ha!Ha! The student must follow The Path of HIS/HER CHOICE. Where is the dilemma here? But remember there are other aspects apart from knowledge, honesty, and wisdom. Also there is the art and science of balance. But certainly – all said and done it is the student who makes certain choices (if not all of them!). As has been said – even the greatest teachers can only point to The Path(s). The rest is upto the student/disciple.
5. “Lastly, they say that the task of a teacher is to help his student look at things with clarity, cognition and equanimity and learn to trust himself- rather that inner voice within.”
First off ‘cognition’ itself means either ‘the process of knowing’ or the ‘end product of knowing’. So I’d say that a teacher helps his/her students cognize with clarity and equanimity, among other things, and I will say a resounding ‘yes’ in relation to ‘trusting and listening to the Inner Voice.’
6. “But when a student reaches that state he doesn’t need the teacher anymore. Now, when both the teacher and the student have elevated themselves to both moral and intellectual profoundness; is it possible that their ideals won’t match, even be sometimes exactly opposite?”
Insofar as ‘need’ is concerned: possibly, possibly not. This really and fully depends upon how one understands and what one means by the word ‘need’.
I, for one will. As I understand ‘need’. Yet I cannot make generalizations from my own perspective. But true enough – the form and the content of that need changes through any meaningful ‘teacher-student’ interaction.
As for your last question: I can’t give you a pat answer. That is, once again – I can forward my own views and in connection to what I’ve seen around me – but I cannot say ‘yes, of course’, or ‘no, of course not.’
But I will once again stress that ‘intellect’ or even ‘basic goodness’ alone are not what are of absolute importance to me. Intellect at least as I see it – is much too bound and constricted. Even basic ‘good’ morality is not what makes for ‘profound’ spiritual experiences, unique lessons and crucial teachings. Therefore I would have to go back to my tenets of spirituality, awareness, consciousness, sensitivity, and wisdom – which lead to the fine and final balance.
Would Ramkrishna be seen as a man of ‘intellect’, for instance? You see, there is more to being a Teacher (at least the kinds that I am concerned about in my essay) than being ‘honest’ and intellectually gifted.
Thus, I would say that in ‘intellectual’ matters, students and teachers may certainly experience a complete rift. No doubt about that. Jung and Freud, for example had parted ways.
However, in the most profound sense – true teachers and disciples most likely will not be at complete loggerheads regarding the truly cardinal ‘ideals’ (whatever that be: whether it is the belief in Work, Life, and Love as being sacred or whether it be the belief in the Unity of Self or what-have-you).
7. “I couldn’t figure out who was right and who was wrong – it seemed to me that both were right in themselves. So in cases where right and wrong overlap and merge to become obscure (or seem to be so) what is the way out?”
This is a very interesting question (as were all your questions) because there are a couple of ways to answer it. I will answer it in immediate terms. In some ways I’ve already hinted to it. The personal lenses through which I view my world indeed do make a difference.
Not knowing though exactly what the ‘dispute’ between the fictional characters was – I can’t give you a very definite answer.
But no matter. I will still articulate a method that I have found useful in different ways and at different times.
In cases where ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ do seemingly merge – one has to ‘see’ the problem. And I can’t stress this enough. One must see it as hard and as long and as intensely as one is able to within one’s mind – if one is serious about getting to the bottom and the top of the answer that satisfies one’s Spirit/Soul/Self. Sometimes the answers may jolly well come across as contradictions or paradoxes. But once one gets beyond that – one is able to ‘see’ a little more clearly than before. The other point to remember is that not each and every ‘problem’ or dichotomy needs to be understood, and ‘seen’. The key is to look for abstractions alongwith specifics. The key is to be able to cluster and divide and then cluster up all the apparently related issues, which one is trying to understand or resolve.
There, I’ve reached the end of your question list. And no, I didn’t for one moment think that you were nit-picking or trying to pose as a ‘know-it-all’. I hope some of my points may be of some help.
Once again: Thank you for raising the questions that you have!
Take care.
Shilpidi
26 April 2008
"Look"
I've been meaning to put up a post for awhile now, but have been hustling and bustling through the last couple of weeks of my semester (not to mention) procrastinating more than usual apart from doing a fair bit of 'real' work. So the essays that I've been typing out need some more work and editing before I can put them up.
For now, I'm putting up the following, which is something that I wrote a couple of years ago for a rather unusual Anthropology class that I took.
The incident 'happened' somewhere inbetween, in some time-space continuum, when I was in a different country...
When I was about 5 or 6 years old I had wandered out of the class once. The teacher had turned her back for an instant to write on the blackboard and I had with a rather dazed expression on my face simply trotted out of the class. I had for some reasons (or maybe none), very badly wanted to see the green hills covered with the rising mist of the early spring rains. And so I had wandered out. I don’t remember whether I had ever previously felt the inclination to do something similar – I don’t even remember whether I had known that walking out of the class was something that was ‘not done’, I don’t quite remember whether the notion was somehow somewhere rooted in my subconscious mind that it was indeed something that children did not do – otherwise why would I have waited until the teacher’s back was turned?
But I did walk out.
I went on my solitary ‘strike’.
I wanted to see the hills. I had felt musty inside the classroom and so I had walked out. I plodded through the corridor, took a left turn and walked straight out of the glass doors. And then I crossed the playground and stood in the middle of the field with the sun dancing around in bands, the wind streaming down my back, and the green hills in the front. It could not have been more than a minute or two but I still remember the intense feeling of ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’ sweeping through me. The next thing I heard was the sound of fast falling footsteps and my slightly harried teacher looking at me from above.
“What are you doing here?” She asked me, and a little icily too.
I looked back at her and answered, “Looking. Look.”
So saying I pointed towards the hills and I can swear I saw a light in her eyes which chased across her face and soon enough she was smiling down at me while she gently tucked my fingers into hers and said, “Yes, I see…” We walked back then to the classroom while she whispered to me, “But don’t walk out of the classroom again…”
For now, I'm putting up the following, which is something that I wrote a couple of years ago for a rather unusual Anthropology class that I took.
The incident 'happened' somewhere inbetween, in some time-space continuum, when I was in a different country...
When I was about 5 or 6 years old I had wandered out of the class once. The teacher had turned her back for an instant to write on the blackboard and I had with a rather dazed expression on my face simply trotted out of the class. I had for some reasons (or maybe none), very badly wanted to see the green hills covered with the rising mist of the early spring rains. And so I had wandered out. I don’t remember whether I had ever previously felt the inclination to do something similar – I don’t even remember whether I had known that walking out of the class was something that was ‘not done’, I don’t quite remember whether the notion was somehow somewhere rooted in my subconscious mind that it was indeed something that children did not do – otherwise why would I have waited until the teacher’s back was turned?
But I did walk out.
I went on my solitary ‘strike’.
I wanted to see the hills. I had felt musty inside the classroom and so I had walked out. I plodded through the corridor, took a left turn and walked straight out of the glass doors. And then I crossed the playground and stood in the middle of the field with the sun dancing around in bands, the wind streaming down my back, and the green hills in the front. It could not have been more than a minute or two but I still remember the intense feeling of ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’ sweeping through me. The next thing I heard was the sound of fast falling footsteps and my slightly harried teacher looking at me from above.
“What are you doing here?” She asked me, and a little icily too.
I looked back at her and answered, “Looking. Look.”
So saying I pointed towards the hills and I can swear I saw a light in her eyes which chased across her face and soon enough she was smiling down at me while she gently tucked my fingers into hers and said, “Yes, I see…” We walked back then to the classroom while she whispered to me, “But don’t walk out of the classroom again…”
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