I yell at autorickshaw drivers...

A few Tamil lessons under my belt and I'm dangerous...who is this crazy person? Chennai as home.

Woken up the past week or so and this city feels like home--routine, rhythms, known in my new neighborhood (the people at the grocery store asked if I lived at the serviced apartments down the street--the owner of the apartments also owns the grocery store). I don't feel like a visitor--I can cross the street like a local (for anyone who visits, this is an act of courage, faith and sheer attitude). I finally secured Tamil lessons so I can communicate better here, and this helps feel more at home; however there was an incident to make sure I don't get a big head about this. More about that below. Suffice it to say I wish someone had caught it on video.

If you read the guide books, they warn you about the autorickshaws. I've been taking the autorickshaws since I arrived and feel pretty comfortable with the negotiations--I've walked away from plenty, I've been followed by plenty "Saar, saar--70 rupee...saar, saar--60 rupee). I usually get a good deal judging by my friends' negotiations, but I'm probably still getting fleeced. The whole not getting a good deal used to really get under my skin at times--felt like if I were a true Chennaite I should be able to haggle with ease and get the driver down to the lowest possible price (the iron law of autorickshaws tariffs?). I've softened since I drove past where many of the auto drivers lived on my way to the airport. I don't sweat the 10 rupee here or there. I'm sorry if I'm making it harder for people who live here permanently but my pale complexion makes me an automatic target for a rip-off. This isn't the typical Westerner position--I have much, therefore I can lose some here or there. It's more of the human-hearted compassion thing. Instead of seeing the drivers as the scourge of the city--rats with wheels--I try to see the man and empathize (not pity or sympathize--these are value-laden). I smile more when I approach a driver and talk with them, pay attention to the scenery, try to laugh a bit. It's dumb but why make the world a harder place? My experience here by-and-large has shown that a smile and laugh opens more doors and lightens my world as well.

So back to the incident--what exactly happened? I had one Tamil lesson under my belt and I was ready to use it. In class we went over how to negotiate with a taxi driver and I went home and memorized the dialogue. I was on my way to my gym and then to work. I had my bags slung over my shoulders, Sambas, sunglasses, Adidas basketball shorts--all I needed was a hamburger and an American flag draped around my shoulders to be more of a stereotype. I made a bee-line for a driver outside the Park Sheraton (posh Western hotel here) and upon making eye-contact I fire off "auto veruma?" and he looks at me and says "do you need a ride?" Not to be deterred I keep plunging ahead with my Tamil "Isha Life, Nageswara Park ponum." He continues "Mylapore? By Nageswara Park?" I come back with "evallavu?" and he says "150 rupees" with a broad grin (an outrageous price for a 2.5 km ride--its about a 30 minute walk). "Jastee--40 rupees" I say and he comes back with "No, it's a very long way and I have very good service..." The two of us were going to use the languages we needed to practice and neither one of us would be deterred. I'm sure the people around us were getting a laugh out of all of it--the American persisting in Tamil, the driver continuing in English. I was the first to break--I had run off my map--and I lost it. "I go this way everyday it's 2 km, the rate is 14 rupees per km!"--then I storm off and find another driver. Yeah, I'm the lunatic yelling guy on TTK Road. Kind of a bad couple of days with the autorickshaw--the following day I was going to the Krishnamutri Foundation for a seminar. I got an auto and had an agreed on price. As we were getting up to speed, the driver looks over his shoulder, smiles and ups the price by 20 rupees. I grab my bag, mutter that I'm outta here, and make to jump out of the taxi. The driver freaks and says "okokokokok, I'm not in this for the money. When do you want me to pick you up?" What have I become? Life is weird but fun sometimes if you just stop and look around.

Rotary Speech--October 26, 2010

Dr. Ranganathan asked me to speak about my capstone project to her Rotary Club. Here's the speech if anyone is curious about the project and my motivations.

Introduction and DAT program
Namaskar, Vanakkam, Hari om--
En per Douglas Kennedy. En oor Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States. Enge veede Alwarpetle, Chennai irukke. Enakku Tamil konjambadhaan theriyum.

My name is Douglas Kennedy and am a Distinguished Fulbright Award in Teaching grantee based here in Chennai. My capstone project is entitled “Theory of Knowledge as a Bridge for Cultural Understanding.” I come from Minnesota, where the snow will be flying in a couple of weeks and will be hip deep in a month. Here are some pictures of my town—it’s a very green place with lakes both in and surrounding the city, lots of walking and bike paths (later ski trails in the winter). People live outdoors in the summer—mainly because winter lasts for six months—you’ll see families boating, biking and playing sports together. The Mississippi River runs through it as well. I’m as you can see a proud family man. My wife and I have been married for 14 years and we have a 5 year old little girl who is crazy about animals, books, dragons, beautiful dresses and swords. My family will be joining me here very soon. We’ll be pulling my daughter out of her International Baccalaureate school and my wife will be taking a leave from her job to come and experience south India. My daughter Madeleine is particularly excited about seeing elephants and a beach.

A little background on my program and we’ll get into the project—the Fulbright program I am part of is new and is only in its second year. For the 2010-11 school year, 12 highly qualified US teachers were chosen to undertake research projects in India, South Africa, Finland, the UK, Argentina, Mexico and Singapore. 17 international teachers were also selected and are presently studying and housed on the University of Maryland campus. Projects for all of us range from the use of toys in physics instruction, application Vedic mathematic principles to my project on cultural understanding.

Background
This project is a crossroads on a journey that started 6 years ago with a novel. In my Theory of Knowledge classes, the students read Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance—a popular book in the 1970s that many of their parents read. The book is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, the author wrote the book in Minneapolis and his many motorcycle rides took him around the lake where most of my students live—they recognize the landmarks. Second the book raises some interesting questions about knowledge—the differences between the artistic mind and the scientific, Eastern vs. Western, emotion and intuition as opposed to reason and rationalism. Many of the students have not questioned the bases of knowledge—for example, the science that the learned from their elementary years was Truth, with a capital T, timeless and unwavering in its certainty. They read this book and suddenly their world is in flux. It’s like the solid ground under their feet suddenly started to shift. Most students find the book a challenge and intriguing, especially after we dissect and discuss it. All these questions are now swimming through their heads and they see that this class is going to be different. Two questions really stick with them.

The first question deals with identity and I start every year with it. On day one of class I ask “Who are you and how do you know it?” The course is often referred to as intellectual narcissism—perfect for 17 and 18 year olds, they get to think and talk about their favorite topic, namely themselves. However this question stumps them. The body and mind they’ve owned or inhabited for their entire lives now is being looked at in a different ways. They talk about their physical characteristics, their gender, their birth certificates, parents. By and large the responses are pretty shallow—they haven’t had to think about this topic. I up the ante by following it with “Why should you care about this question if at all?” Now the quizzical looks begin, some stock answers and borrowed wisdom (a couple say “Know thyself” of “To thine ownself be true” but can’t really say why it’s important). We turn to the text for guidance. In the book, two narrators lodged in the same body compete for the reader’s attention and control over the narrative. The students begin to question: who is the narrator? Is he sane? How would he know? Who deems whether an individual is sane or not? Which voice is credible? The pieces start to click together.

The other question that arises is about culture and knowledge—the baggage that the we all carry around with us but may not necessarily be conscious of until we travel abroad. The author studied Oriental philosophy at Banaras Hindu University in Varanasi. The experience had a tremendous impact on the author and it marks the beginning of a transformation in his thinking (quote on p. 141). The passage later goes on to talk about how these ideas would stick with him. The narrator who was dominated by logic alone starts to wonder about the roots of his knowledge and the limits of it. In essence he is questioning the underlying assumptions and beliefs of his knowledge, the cultural components. How can different views exist about truth? Why is reason so entrenched in the West? This questioning, according to the narrator at least, leads to him being deemed insane. The personality or the side of the narrator that sought to find the limits of reason and reconcile Eastern and Western knowledge is eradicated by electroshock therapy. I don’t want to ruin the book for anyone, there are a couple of interesting twists and turns in the rest of the novel, but you’ll have to find out what happens next on your own. I know they have the book at Landmark (an engineering friend of mine just purchased a copy two weeks ago). The students at this point start to wonder about what ideas and beliefs they haven’t examined, and why they see the world the way they do.

It was my students who pushed me. I wanted to do a better job teaching this novel so I started to read—first a companion to the novel, then Eastern philosophy. The students wanted to know more about the local connections and many of them had seen the Zen Center on one of the lakes in the city and had questions about connections to the novel. I sent out e-mails asking if anyone knew about the context of the novel or would be willing to be a community expert on the book or Zen beliefs and practice. A former college professor answered my query. Erik it turned out was Pirsig’s friend and one of the founders of the Zen Center along with the author. He knew the book well and many of the stories associated with it. He comes each year to speak to the classes about the author, its context in history and then takes them through a Zen meditation session. From conversations with Erik, I pursued a course in Zen meditation and philosophy and even began to meditate at his house. I learned a lot, but still I felt like I could do better at walking the walk as we say. Had I really examined what I knew and what lay behind these ideas and concepts? Had I modeled appropriately the curious mind or what it means to critically examine ideas?

Wondered about the course as well—what was the purpose? What were the outcomes for this international curriculum and why put a course like ToK in the center of it? I had my own opinions about it, but I knew that perhaps these were laden with some assumptions. As these questions, both from the novel and my, I guess we could call them meta-thoughts, thoughts about my thinking and teaching craft the idea for this project were devised. I wanted to see how the course was taught in a setting much different from mine, if possible in settings where cultural values were explicitly part of the mission or curriculum. I wanted to talk to teachers and administrators about how they saw the course and its purpose. More importantly I wanted to connect my students to the experience so they could learn. This latter part also stemmed from my students’ lack of knowledge about India but also a more idealistic place as well. I believe it is far more difficult to misjudge or misunderstand someone if you know them. Hate is built out of ignorance and peace is a product of understanding and the ability to empathize with another. I see my students as the future leaders in the world—they go to Ivy League schools, emerge as business executives and researchers. The world, as Thomas Friedman has successfully penned, is flat and our students will come into ever increasing contact with people different from themselves. I wanted to help ensure that the future would be in good hands—even if it was in some small way, I wanted to do something. To not, given my capacity, was ethically irresponsible.

The project
The project has 3 components: site visits, online platform for discussion and assignments or the curriculum piece, assessment of learning. Ideally, and this is still in the works, an exchange program between schools will result. For the American students this would take place in the late summer or early fall, and for the Indian students this will take place in May (they thought this would be a great time to be in a cooler climate).

The site visits are to gather data about other IB programs and their approaches to teaching Theory of Knowledge. While at the sites, I interview principals about the nuts about bolts of their program, their vision for the role and placement of ToK. I also interview the ToK teachers about more curriculum specific items such as how they address self-knowledge and culture. For some of these schools, like Chinmaya, the cultural component is an explicit part of the school vision and program. The question then becomes, what is the outcome of the program and how do you balance seemingly competing interests? While at the schools I also conduct teacher training sessions on Theory of Knowledge, writing workshops, teach and observe ToK classes and interview groups of students about their ToK experience. The site visits help formulate a spine of sorts to my project—models for how different schools approach the curriculum. I also visited non-IB schools that address the cultural issue or that utilize alternative approaches—schools like The School and the Isha Home School. I have also met with teacher training programs to see how Indian teachers are prepared. Again, all of these provide a grounding in the structure and variety of education in-country.

The next component is the work being conducted right now with the students at M. Ct. M. Chidambaram Chettyar International School. In conjunction with the Theory of Knowledge teacher at M. Ct. M., an online platform was set up to connect students here with my students in Minnesota. Each student has a profile post with their picture and a short writing assignment to introduce them to the rest of the group. The website also has a place for students to post photos, links, an online assignment drop box and a discussion board where they can respond to questions and each other’s writings. Right now we are incorporating themes about culture and cultural adaptation to our classroom work in order to get the students to think about the things that make them who they are and how these influence knowledge claims. The students will be responding to questions like:
• Examine the ToK diagram—the knower is in the center, why?
What can we know about ourselves?
Sources?
Types of evidence?
Is the knowledge reliable? Why/not?
Are the sources reliable? Why/not?
• IB is an international curriculum—what does that mean?
• How do societies value the individual?
What about groups, like families or tribes?
What are the gender roles?
What about familial roles?
What is the relationship of the individual to society?
• How does the past influence the present?
What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they
fit into the consciousness?

Additionally, the students will be working on readings and participating in seminars to help them push their thinking about what can be known and the influence of culture such as Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “In a Grove” (and the film by Akira Kurosawa “Roshomon”) and an excerpt from Pirsig’s novel about ghosts. Periodic smaller assessments will be added to help the students identify knowledge issues and to shore up weaknesses.

Their final assessment will be a knower’s profile. This consists of a paper or portfolio (could also be a presentation) that answers the following questions
• What are the sources of our knowledge?
May consider parents, culture, race, school, friends, books,
media, authorities…
Sources must be explained—what knowledge do they give us?
• Why do we trust them?
Responses require explanation for why we consider the source trustworthy
• Where do these sources get their knowledge? Where does it come from?
And by extension, this implies my knowledge
May want to consider traditions, beliefs, prophets, holy books, primary
sources, teachers, the media…
• What are some of the knowledge issues that arise?
The assessments will be graded based on the level of reflection that goes into their responses and attention to the implications of their points. The papers and the online responses will be analyzed for changes over time in the students thinking—how well do they see themselves at the beginning of the unit, versus the end, for example. Ideally, the connections that the students build up over the year from the online component (discussions and presentations over Skype will be undertaken after I return to the US) will facilitate an exchange of students where they can really interact. Meeting face to face is different than writing on Facebook or our site. Just the amount of time together provides an opportunity to continue the discussions and really get to know the people who were on the other side of the Internet connection. There’s something profound about breaking bread together or the pride that comes in sharing your home that deepens the connection and understanding between people.

To close this evening, I wanted to share two quotes with you that helped motivate me as I’ve encountered stumbling blocks and doubt along this journey. Both were cited in a book I just finished, AJP Abdul Kalam’s Ignited Minds—

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.” (Goethe)—from the chapter on Visionary Scientists and Teachers

“Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something, it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it even if I didn’t have it in the beginning.” (Mahatma Gandhi) –from the chapter on Role Models

I dream about a world for my daughter where conflict, poverty and disease are handled by a community of individuals who can put understanding first and divisions second. This is a starting point for my contribution to that vision. Thank you for letting me speak with you this evening. Pranams. I believe we have some time for questions.

Culture questions and self-knowledge

Incomplete thoughts--October 14, 2010. Heading to Coimbatore again...

Phone is sick and in surgery in Bangalore, spent 4 hours (plus one other person doing the same) with customer help, felt sick—no sleep for weeks, night sweats—still not much help on the ground here. I feel fine now.

Culture
What is it and what defines it? Can talk about the easy stuff—the institutions, the food, the traditions. However, the role of it inside the individual and how it affects their outlook and life is a wholly different matter. We usually see culture when it is in collision—trying to understand why the standard for punctuality is different, for example—but rarely do we take a look at our own culture as the source or at the very least a contributor factor, of that collision. It seems that this lack of awareness of our selves leads to conflict, but we lack the ability or practice to see what we are and then make reasoned and clear-minded comparisons. Perhaps this is best seen as the difference between a reaction and an exchange or conversation. The latter leads to understanding—there is a reference point (the self), the ability to or platform to ask a question (conversation), and perhaps then an implied openness to see difference and experience it—the former, misunderstanding and confusion or frustration and even aggression.

So here’s the problem—where do you get the self-knowledge? Where do you learn to understand who you are and what makes you you? We are taught in social studies classes about our history and government, but that seems to be without the necessary reflective component. Sometimes values are talked about, but how is this made to be personal—where does the culture meet the person and how does it resonate or fill them?

When we travel and live abroad, we encounter things that are different and our colleagues look at our behavior and mannerisms and try to make sense of them (is this a boor or just an American—where does the culture end and the person begin?). It’s in this collision that some of what makes our culture apparent—the housekeeping staff’s horror at my reaching for the trash bin under my sink or fetching towels out of my bathroom, my hosts insistence that I sit at the table and not move an inch and allow myself to be waited upon, my reaction at how societal superiors treat those beneath them…

The value that all men are created equal resonated with my sense of justice when studying the American Civil Rights Movement, but I didn’t realize how ingrained it was—a part of my culture and identity—until I came to India. This value of mine bumps up against some cultural and historical obstacles—but I had to think about why it was painful or confusing to see. This reflection—thinking about what it means to be an American—helped me to digest what I was seeing rather than just being horrified or repulsed. It is neither good nor bad--this is not for me to decide--it is different and needs to be understood. It’s the value judgements--repulsion or rejection--that leads to problem like stereotyping (“such and such culture is barbaric…look how they treat x!”) and even conflict. I've started reading more about India--Abdul Kalam's autobiography and Ignite Minds, Sen's The Argumentative Indian: writings on Indian culture, history and identity.

So what makes a culture? What can we take away from situations where we react to differences? How do societies value the individual? What about groups, like families or tribes? What are the gender roles? What about familial roles? What is the relationship of the individual to society? How is property viewed? How are guests to be treated? How does the past influence the present? What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they fit into the consciousness? Which subjects are taboos? What about behaviors?

Stuck between two—range of things have been said to me: we’ll make an Indian of you yet, you are already mostly Indian, now you see the India beyond the exotic, my countrymen fall over themselves when they see white skin (present company excluded for insight? Am I “in” so you can tell me this, or is our friendship suspect?). So what does this mean?

Fulbright experience
Read an article about Greg LeMond today--was waiting for a haircut. He's a local guy in the western suburbs of Minneapolis (I see him occasionally skiing) who just happened to be the first American who won the Tour de France. Forgot that he had been shot in the back and won his second title with 37 shotgun pellets still in his back (including several lodged in his heart lining). This hunting accident also was followed by two surgeries to fix other issues like tendonitis in one of his legs. He was expected to maybe place in the top 20, but he won that year. I think that article was there for a reason--it's not the hardship that makes the person, it is the recovery. Even the small mishaps in our daily lives like a crap day at work or fender-bender or an argument with a loved one—it’s how we recover and what we do differently to show up for those that we care about and be the person we which to put forward. I really think this is what makes us happy—you really live for those whom you care about and must respect who you are. Human beings have an incredible capacity to remake themselves and to control their happiness to a large degree. I was worried about barking at a couple of friends as well as focusing on the negatives of this journey. I got so bogged down in the immediate problems and the stresses that I lost perspective of what was really important both for me personally and for this project. I had a steak and mango ice cream for dinner, then in the morning I made sure I meditated, a worked out, and had some talks with a couple of friends to apologize for being jerky. Recovery attained. The issues that had me bent out of shape were over (one is at least manageable—I hate Vodafone), my friends are still my friends and I am grateful for them, my trip has been an amazing experience. I learned. As a friend pointed out in an e-mail—remember, you are here which also means that someone else did not get the experience. One of my other friends commented that he lives sort of vicariously through my updates. It’s not that I have an obligation to these others to be superhuman, but it did help pull my head out of the mud and really look at the big picture. My wife has commented to co-workers about the conversations that have happened as part of this journey—they are stunned and amazed by them. I’ve seen temples and stunning wilderness, met interesting people, dined on amazing food and learned so much in such a short period of time. How can I be blue over the trivial? Ah, yes—life lesson learned.

In one a text message frenzy today a friend wise friend who has been my guru and patient listener wrote “…if the big things feel like they are not happening, the emptiness and small things have a lot of potential.” When I was in Pondicherry I went through a bout of pretty profound traveler’s melancholy and could feel myself withdraw. This experience in India has had frustrations with housing, some isolation (I arrived, made friends, set up a routine and then we had a 3 week vacation), some issues with my grant and difficulties getting access to research sites. So what do I take away from this experience so far? Well, maybe not to sweat the small stuff as much. I have a choice—explore and realize my time is limited here or hide in my routine and miss out. With the small stuff, I can’t let my irritation get the best of me—I know that I was not good about this at MHS especially as department chair. I let other people’s issues weigh on me and I ruminated over and over about things. I really only hurt myself. I’ve learned to be a lot more outgoing—not really an issue before, but being several thousand miles from home does bring out the more gregarious side for some reason. Found that I am much more of a people person than I thought I was—and I’ve been much more open to others and what they have to offer. Some of this is probably from finally being able to emerge from the stress I had put myself under for the past 10+ years. Really thinking I don’t need to race anymore. I like the competition and maybe I’ll enter a few tris or ski races for that reason, but I don’t really have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t think it made me a better teacher or a better husband or a better dad. It just made me busier and added some stress. Why add more? The other thing that has been made very apparent is how this trip has solidified my place in teaching. In an unfamiliar place, the students are the constant or the connection to what my life in the US was like—they are familiar and grounding. My best moments here have been when I have been with kids or see a student of mine on the street. I’ve been welcomed by other schools and recognized for good work—this helped ease some of the self-doubt and pressure I had been putting on myself for a long time. Teaching last year—especially the ToK classes—was fun. But this feels different. It’s a lightness of being. It seems to hit the big aspects of my being and the work or extra time is not effort it is just done because I can do it. When I was in Pondi, I heard about a former student that was having a rough go with homesickness. This was the time that I was experiencing it myself—traveling by myself, missed my daughter, just coming off some drama, needed routine—and I had just had an amazing conversation with my sister about how she dealt with the same symptoms when she travels alone on research. I sent the student and e-mail talking about my experience and extended an offer to talk if she wanted it. It was not a question of time; it was not a question at all. I had the capacity or ability so it is done.

I seem to have come half-way around the world to learn more about myself as I study how others teach others about learning about themselves (deliberately scrambly). There are a couple of people reading this blog who are probably grinning (do I detect a smugness?) when they read this. I am different now. I’ve perhaps got a better sense of my identity, the meaning of fulfillment and the ability to let go.

Pondicherry--October 11

Hot in the former French colony on the Bay of Bengal--October 2010, vacation away from Chennai, heat came with me.

Took a break from scrambling on building connections for my project and destressing from a housing incident--the second one since I got here. I have moved to a different place and hopefully everything will work out. May have been an innocent mistake, but my trust and privacy were violated--had to leave. I have wonderful friends here, though--they really rallied around me and helped. The saying is that "the guest should be treated as a god" and I can't believe the outpouring of support and help that people I barely know offered. India can be a difficult place to experience--the travel books mention it, but really nothing can get you ready for this country of contrasts. Beautiful one minute, brutal the next, but it's the people who make the experience. I think as Westerners, and I include myself in this, we get really hung up on the material things. I have a friend here whom some of my other friends refer to as my "Madras Mom"--but she's the perfect exammple. Usha and I know each other based upon an initial e-mail exchange to Fulbright alums living in Chennai and a friendship was built--we've had dinner, gone to arts perfomances. But the difference is that she checks up on me all the time--when I get on a travel she checks to make sure I am ok on the train or bus (she even wished me a good night), she offers advice when I experience "traveler's melancholy" and homesickness for my family, she listens to my stories about my project. For what? Alot of people have said that India changes you--and I think this could mean a lot of different things based on your experience. To me, I've see the poverty, I've learned alot about spritituality (different than religiosity--big difference) and I've seen places of amazing beauty, but the thing I've learned most about is friendship. Here in Pondi there are a lot of Westerners (mind you this means I've seen more than 2 in a given span of time) --we see each other walking down the streets by the cafes and shops or by the beach. Sometimes there's a nod, but little conversation--a reserve or coldness that I think is just us (big exception is the French restaurant owner I keep bumping into--Franciose--we just had lunch today and a long conversation over tomato salads, camembert sandwiches and Indian coffee). Maybe it comes back to the people here wanting to make guests feel comfortable so they really try to reach out to strangers, but I think it goes deeper. Maybe this comes back to a conversation I had with a man about the Indian mindset--there are so many problems that differences like religion matter less than finding another good person. It's these people that you rely upon to get through the day. I think my "Madras Mom" takes it even further. At the yoga retreat we had to think about what qualities make up the divine, and how we've seen these manifested in other people. I immediately thought about my wife of course--she's been my rock for 14 years, the rational part to my emotional personality (ok, I know any of my former students will laugh when they read that, but guys I have to tell you, your teachers may be different away from the classroom--we'll meet for coffee and discuss it some day) and the person who takes me for who I am, warts and all. I also thought about physical therapist
who didn't just treat my injuries this last year but got the mental side of it. I thought of myself as an athlete and when I couldn't train, when my body was not behaving as I wanted it to, a sort of depression set in. This part of my self was taken away and this was terrifying. So Molly came in at just the right time, when I was so low at times it was frightening, and helped heal my mind (through some amazing conversations that I will never forget) as well as my injuries. Things turned around--I was uplifted (salvaged? saved?) in a time where things looked pretty bleak to me. I learned alot about identity and self as well--don't pin too much on the external things, whether they are material or performances or relationshiops, because they can all be taken away from you in an instant. You really need to look in and see what you are all about and then find joy in that. Strive for excellence in what is true to yourself, but know what really matters and nurture that--the rest is just stuff. Now my friend here gives more to this friendship than I can possibly ever repay--she does it because it is who she is and that she can offer this type of support. She can look into this mind or heart or whatever of mine and relate to it--she's been in the same position when she studied in Minneapolis. Perhaps as she sees it there is a need here, and her responsibility (not in a covnentional prescribed duty sense, but in an opportunity sense--a human-hearted, compassionate sense) to help. She can do this and does this; few other's could relate in the same way, so she does. She could turn away, she could have never answered my initial e-mail, but she didn't and that has made all the difference. I am learning alot.

One comment about Westerners and India. Being in Puducherry (Pondi) has opened my eyes. After my housing issue, I spoke with the owner of my guest house. Besides these two incidents, this man has talked with me at length about India--it's intricacies and politics, culture, spirituality. After he apologized profusely for the what happened, he said something that really stuck with me. Westerners, they see India as exotic, but you know the reality. I've thought about this for days now. It has been in the forefront of my mind as I visit Pondi and Auroville. I'm going to indulge in some stereotyping now. I'm hypersensitive to the men with long hair and flip-flops in that skinny yoga build on mopeds with their girlfriends--women in flowing pants and tank tops, loose ponytails (ready to drop into an asana in a moment's notice!). They see the ashrams and the yoga culture in India. They pass the poverty and the people, but pull up to their modern hotels or sojourn in an ashram. This is the exotic. Now I can't say that I'm different--I live in a modern apartment, I have my Wi-Fi and access to Western food if I want it, and I've been to an ashram for a yoga retreat--but it just kind of irritates the crap out of me now. I am probably coming across as a complete jerk and I shouldn't be so judgmental--seriously, who am I? I've been here for a month now and have worked in a traditional Indian school and lived in a neighborhood where Westerners are as common as snow but that hardly puts me in position to condemn anyone else's choices. Maybe this is the acculturation period--sort of getting used to India and it's rhythms. I guess without the harshness it's just a milestone in my journey here. Live and let live. Converse and share the experience--that's probably all I can do. The ethical dimension of knowledge? Back to ToK land again... Certitude this way, visitiors' center that way.

Land of Butterflies and Dragonflies; Kingdom of the Elephant and the Mansion of the Snake

Reflections on my time at the Isha ashram, Velliangiri Hills--September 30-October 3. Writing after the downpour. A lot to think about.

I am blown away by the staggering beauty of this place. The mountains rise up sharply from the plain, you can see waterfalls descending hundreds of feet--white cuts in the lush green. It is so quiet here. The air smells so fresh--everything seems both calm and alive, vibrant. The drum wakes us at 6 to begin our practice, but I feel so rested despite finishing at 10 the night before and of course then talking with friends and my roommate for at least another hour or two about all that we've thought and experienced during the day before turning out the light. The food has been amazing--fresh, local, made by volunteers. My appetite is voracious and I relish each meal of Keralan dishes and Southern Indian classics. One meal was served on the floor, banana leaves set before us. Sublime. I began to not even miss my daily dose of filter kappi (the delightful strong and milky filter coffee of Chennai). The volunteers strike me as truly remarkable--they do everything here with such care, happiness and selflessness. Every time I go up for another plate of food I'm met with a smile. If I have a question they are present and listen. On the last night, our feet were bathed in hot water infused with flowers. They carried bucket after bucket of very hot water to refill our tubs filled with flower petals and river stones. Cheerfulness the whole while. I know that a several day retreat cannot change the world but I do see some changes in me and I certainly have learned things--even if they are not the explicit topics covered by our instructor. I don't think that I ever want to go back to Chennai. Part of this is completely understandable--no work here, no responsibility except to learn, do yoga, be pampered and take in the scenery. However, maybe I need to listen to what my heart is saying, maybe I'm still a country boy--as silly as that may sound. I really like the Cities and the roots we've set down, but I do feel so much more at peace with the world and my self when I'm in these natural settings.

So what to make of all of this? Good question--and it will take a bit to get my head around this. I'm sure as I continue my meditation and yoga practice I'll perhaps have a better sense. Initially here, the delivery really got to me--can't turn the ToK brain off. I have a difficult time with yes and no, either-or types of statements. I prefer a conversation--let me see the reasoning or thinking before I accept. The Latin root of conversation is conversarii--which means to turn around in one's mind. This is my preferred method and I know I get hung-up when I am just presented material. I know that I bucked a lot of what was being presented--I wanted to know more, wanted to talk about how it fit with other traditions if only for the basis of comparison (my own brain kept coming back to Zen, the Dalai Lama, my own experience as an athlete or having to wrestle with concepts of identity and truth. This internal questioning and curiosity--which I could shut off when I was in session, but kept coming back when I was out--finally seemed to evaporate on the last day during the last session. Up to this point, I sometimes felt like I was missing something--seeing Nivas in his revelry I felt like such an outsider beyond my obvious outward appearance, culture and traditions. During that last session I think I finally got it. The dots connected, I was ready to let it in and just be. No divisions, just existence in the moment. It felt wonderful. I'm still a skeptic and a seeker, but I can't discount this experience, the conversations and my experience here. Theres' been such a common thread to it all--a unity of thinking. One reader will certainly want to talk about this issue I know, I don't know if I buy into gurus, but I really thinking about this unity, the oneness and the now. I see the limits of a world that is all reason or one that is all emotion and I see how yoga combines the experience them. Like meditation, this brings you into the present, into consciousness. The other thing I take away is how seriously the concept of self-knowledge is taken here. So many people look inward for meaning, connection and the capacity to act with integrity not just to themselves but to the human family.

I think that the retreat was valuable for a lot more than the curriculum and practice--they intertwine but they were not the sum of the experience. We trekked into the hills one morning to a waterfall that we could see from the terrace at the ashram. The trek would take most of the day and the volunteers packed lunch for us. Before we left out we were warned about wild elephants and what to do if we see them and, of course, to watch out for snakes. Thousands of miles from home, heading into the forests with cobras, kraits and vipers--elephants took a distinct backseat in my worries. What was I thinking?

We head out from the ashram gate along a road and make it to our first river crossing. My thoughts start to be less about what might be under my feet and I can't help but look at the granduer all around me--my photos don't do it justice. I get talking to a couple of the kids on the hike--they and their parents are part of the retreat. They are talking about Justin Bieber (one hates him, the other thinks he's brilliant). It's just my curiosity as a teacher but I have to ask about the music they listen to. They look at me weirdly and I tell them I'm a teacher working in Chennai and I am interested what they listen to compared to my students in the States. We have a brief conversation, but now I'm an object of curiosity. As the retreat continues, the kids announce any sighting of me with "Helllooooo, Mr. Kennedy!"--it's every meal, every time I'm spotted walking to my room. My friends get named as well--Nivas becomes "Best Friend" and Pravin is named "Bad Boy." The attention is adorable mostly, and they made a very nice going away card for me on the last evening of the retreat complete with flowers. For me the interesting thing happens on the hike, though. The kids are skittish about everything that moves--everything to them is a snake. After our initial conversation they've placed themselves with me for the duration of the hike and a transformation takes place in my mind. My fear disappears--it's immediate responsibility mode, the parent mode, the teacher mode. My whole being relaxes. I become the calm "re-assurer" or the role model--I have no choice but to be brave and put my own fears aside for the kids. Think I got some awareness of my self on this hike. It's easy to gripe about teaching--there are alot of things that can be so frustrating--but it does feel right. Maybe I had to come to the other side of the world to get that. Maybe I needed to throw off the baggage of my current setting to really get what I'm about. Once the noise settles, you can really listen.

One last piece and it came in the way of a challenge. We talked alot about responsibility at the retreat--your response that you are able to do. After the trek a friend asked point-blank, ok now you've seen all this, the poverty, the poor living conditions and the kids, what will you do? Will you turn your back on it and forget it? These questions ate at me all the way back to Chennai--in my bunk on the train, I couldn't help but think about it. In a few months I go back to my quiet street and suburban home, my comfortable life with expensive sports gear, gourmet food, Costco, pure-bred dogs, etc., etc. Can I just take what I learned here and leave it? This is not to say that I need to impose my own values or standard of living on anyone. Who am I to say that my own life is superior to anyone else's or what makes anyone happy? However, I can think about preventable causes child and female mortality, educational opportunities, medical care and improved agricultural techniques that don't destroy the soil or harm those that are working in the fields. This is within my ability and I can respond to it. I can't shake the question--I can't go home and turn my back. Call this ethics, call it personality, call it what you will but it feels right and clear.

Barefoot in the ashram

September 30, 2010--outside Coimbatore, Isha Yoga Center, early afternoon

I arrived early--sped by car from Coimbatore to the ashram for a retreat that my friend has just said needs to be experienced without expectations. Checked with another participant here and he said he was told the same thing by his cousin. Seems to be pretty common--no answers, no reactions, don't set up expectations. Find this just piques my curiousity. Maybe that's the point. To learn you have to want it--there must be inquiry and desire.

The setting here is just startling--we're in the Velliangiri Foothills, spiritual territory. I have never seen land like this--lush green mountains, coconut palms (forests of them), thousands of dragonflies and butterflies everywhere. Their flight is mesmerizing and I watch them for long moments, captivated with the dance, rhythms and colors. Find myself just breathing deeper here. It's so quiet compared to Chennai (many things are quieter than Chennai mind you), so fresh an green--lotus flowers scent the air all around me. In my homesick moments India gets to me--the noise, the chaos, not entirely understanding the rules--but here I feel so at ease and like my head can just let go. It's the green, the hush of the breeze, the scent of the air--flowers, wet earth. I may never want to go back to Chennai.

A trek outside
We explored the temples at the ashram this afternoon and then headed outside into the surrouding countryside. I wish that I'd brought my camera--palms, farm land, ancient trees, huts, cows with painted horns...beautiful. We forded a stream and as we walked a few meeters downstream we saw three snakes fighting to get out of a pool created by a dam. and A few more meters away two children played in the grass outside their house. Each person reacted the same--protect the kids. This raises some questions about the role of the individual and their responsibility to act. As we were thinking about what to do and getting increasingly uncomfortable in our inaction, the sky opened up and we were hit with the type of rain that only falls in the tropics--sudden, furious and long-lasting. Our road turned to thick red mud. A few people had umbrellas, I had a rain coat and became the mobile phone porter. One of my friends shared an umbrella with another hiker. Soon his companion offered to hold it for him. Then his companion disappeared. Poor Ravi was left to hike back without shelter and wondering if he'd ever see it again. We took a shortcut through a farmer's path, and as we headed back on to the ashram property the roads were all under inches of water--they looked like streams. They feed us well after the trek and we all start to get to know each other--mix of old and young, singles and families. Only two westerners besides myself. One has lived at the ashram for the past 3 years. The other is Indian, but lives in London. My best friends so far are a spiritual-seeking engineer and a skeptic who is about to start work in California. Not sure what to expect. I'm getting a little hung up on the delivery. Lots of either-or statements and some misrepresentations of science. I can't exactly turn off the ToK side of me that gets all alert when I hear these types of things. It sort of is getting in the way--ironically enough--of trying to hear the message. Want to be receptive, but this might be more of an effort than I thought. Need to put aside the Zen filter, the ToK filter, the western filter and listen. If this is a part of the great conversation about spirituality or my own journey I'll need to put aside some things and be present. Judgment can always come later, but you can't rebuild the present moment. If you can't be in that moment, you just may miss something.