It all felt a bit conceited, preparing my outfit for a seminar that was supposed to be full of non-judging, organic friendly, meditation gurus. My hair was long enough to appear "out of step" with society, but kept clean enough to give the appearance of sanity. My Steven Biko T-Shirt, made by a traveling artist in South Africa, would surely show my interest in philosophy or at least human rights... Should I wear the poncho? No, the poncho would be too much; the poncho would give it away. But the French-pressed, local, fair-trade coffee in a travel thermos - that was a must.
It was a Saturday, the day before my birthday, and I had wound up signing up for a "progressive thinking" seminar under the guidance of one of my professors. There was a suggested donation, but the instructors (who personally knew my professor) assured anyone coming that the experience, not the money, was what counted. The suggested donation was twenty-five dollars...I had ten to spend, fifteen for "laundry". I felt like such a fake.
After trudging through several dusty alleyways, running into a few early risers and a handful of typically grumpy townies, I found the place. It was fairly unassuming location - a plaza with lawyers' offices, dental practices, physical therapy, and on the third floor, "Mindful meditation center of Keene." The eagle had landed...
The name of the seminar was "Awakening the Dreamer: Changing the Dream" and had gained some critical acclaim around the world. I was expecting something huge: a gathering of international environmental pundits, yoga gurus, and ethical entrepreneurs perhaps, all hoping to "change my ways." Instead, I found a room full of about ten folks in loose fitting clothing, floor mats, a projector, and endless smiles. This was certainly different.
What unfolded was one of the most unique, restful, and inspirational experiences of my life. Each hour of that day was full of new ideas, fun activities, and novel ways of looking at the crises that face our generation and the generations ahead of us. Even if momentarily, it transformed a cynic into an activist, a skeptic into an optimistic go-getter. To ensure we maintained this positive state after the seminar, we were asked to write a self-addressed letter about our feelings at the end of the day. So I wrote, and for the most part, forgot about it. Six weeks later, a few days before the seminar would return to Keene, I got the letter in my school mail stop box. This is what was on it:
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What I want to remember most 6 weeks from now:
- Hope and optimism
- I want to feel alive
- To feel healthy
- To feel comforted as I do now.
- Love is the uniting force, separation is an illusion
- "Refuse to participate" (This is in reference to mainstream corporate agendas)
- The power of eye contact
- Feeling out of step with society is a good thing, so is local food
- Don't be afraid to think with the heart
- The eagle (technology & human creativity) will soon fly together with the condor (wisdom & love)
- Bliss and connectedness can be found without mind altering substances.
- Each person has an amazing capacity to connect, share, and love with others. We all long for that.
- "Green Media Guru" (In reference to what one of my teammates suggested I would become)
- If everything is connected, anything I do to the world I do to myself.
Kevin B. Malicki
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For me, this is proof that spending six hours in a meditation center with the same ten people, organic food, quiet music, and conversation is capable of yielding some interesting facets of the human subconscious. Whether these words should be interpreted as wisdom or insanity is for you to decide, but whenever I read this letter I can't help but smile.
Greg Mortenson:
This guy wrote Three Cups of Tea, started the Pennies for Peace fund, and has done immeasurable work in the name of educating the impoverished people of the middle east and around the world. He's built over 90 schools and raised millions in the name of global education. He spoke at our school today and if there's anything I can say about his cause, it's this:
1.) If you educate a boy, you educate and individual. If you educate a girl, you educate a community. Bringing equal education to women is the single most crucial element of building a healthy society. If you want to cure hunger, help reduce disease, reduce cases of abuse, and lower population, educate the women.
2.) If the world came together and pitched in one billion dollars each year for fifteen years, global illiteracy would be completely eradicated. If you want to help that, don't send the money to Washington, send it to NGO's that are already in the places needing help.
3.) The military is not as clueless to the middle east as media would like us to think. In the past 15 months, General David Howell Petraeus and other leaders have been to Afghanistan over three dozen times to talk with village elders about working together. As put by Dr. Mortenson, you don't have to like diplomacy, you just have to show up and listen.
4.) The culture in the United States is one that has abandoned its elders. If you want to know how to change the world, if you want to go forth and make a difference, it wouldn't hurt to talk to the people who've seen two world wars, a economic fluctuation, changing times and eroding values. American culture is one of the only cultures world wide that generally disregards the wisdom of the elderly. This is not to say that all elderly are infallible, but they deserve a prominent role in our society.
5.) Change is possible now more than ever. Ten years ago there were only 800,000 kids in schools in Afghanistan, most of which were boys. After Dr. Mortenson's work, there are over 5 million, 2.4 of which are girls. If we want progress on this planet, we need to see the humanity in other people, treat them with respect, and listen before we act.
Squirrel Communication
I've been involved in a class called "Opening to Other Ways of Knowing and Being" this semester, and it's a mind-trip. It's integrative studies, looking at the failures of certain aspects of Western thinking, particularly our education system. We've also worked on meditation practices, Buddhist understandings of the world, and Native American culture. The course is jam packed with life-altering material, much too much to list all at once, but one of the more interesting aspects of the class is Native American child psychology...
It was common practice in many Native American traditions to teach children about life by making them watch a certain creature for a week. Observe their behavior, track their movement, see how they operate in the world. Watching different animals gave children a sense of mastery and belonging in the world, which in turn, gave insight to living sustainable lives in co-existence with nature. In many Native American ideologies, our planet is one giant, living, breathing organism. Everything is connected. We are all one, and each part of this planet offers something else to learn.
So today when passing a squirrel on my way to the dining commons, I just stopped. Instead of trying to coax the squirrel over, or chase it, or catch it, I just stopped. I stopped and watched and listened. The squirrels are fairly tame on campus, but only within reason. Any attempts to approach a squirrel is usually met with a burst of scurrying grey fur, up a tree, and out of sight. Not today.
As I watched, wind blowing both my hair and the squirrel's in each direction, I waited for the squirrel to notice me. We made eye contact, and the squirrel stopped. Assuming it was a male, he stood up and looked at me. We spent the remainder of that minute looking at each other, wind tugging on his tail and my hair. A part of me wondered what he was thinking. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been fear.
He inched closer to me, lackadaisically sniffing the ground. As soon as I inched forward he inched back. I must appear quite big to him, I thought. So I stepped back; he stepped back. I inched left; he inched right. We had rotated about 45 degrees from our original position at this point - our circle-strafing had guided the squirrel to a flood lamp on the lawn, which he eagerly hopped up on. I stood still; he stood up on his hind legs. We stared at each other for another minute.
This nature tango went on for about 5 minutes, briefly interrupted by curious passersby, to which the squirrel responded by fetching an acorn from beneath the dirt and retreating to a birch tree. I walked carefully to the tree, completely unconcerned with how foolish I looked. I waited until the squirrel was on a branch just higher than my head. I assured the squirrel that he was safely out of my reach and out of harm by bowing my head as I walked forward. Much to my delight the squirrel sat up again, gleefully munching his acorn atop his throne of white birch and studying me. I must have appeared quite unusual to him for a human. We were feet apart - I could see his little pink inner cheeks working around the acorn, piece by piece, efficient as ever. I studied the subtle coloration of orange on his fur, wondering if I would spot him again.
Neither of us were sure what was to come next, and it was getting late, so I simply bowed my head and walked away. Just before I turned the corner, I looked back to the birch tree - happy to see I was still being watched...
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