Anyway, the debate ended in a stalemate and we went on with the day. Later I realized the problem: rather than saying ‘people don’t learn’, I should have said, what usually passes for learning is actually mimicry. As is often the case, words got in the way of communication… ha!

I then made a short list of correlations to show Luke the point I was trying to make earlier. He studied it for a moment, nodded and said like “Ah yes, that makes sense”. The point I was trying to make earlier, and in vain, became obvious through correlations. Of course, that comes with its own downside cost;  clear and perfect communication eliminates the fun… the tug of war give and take. Here is the set I showed Luke⁽¹⁾. See if it makes any sense to you:

⁽¹⁾ A correlation’s view of issues may work better within our family because I introduced the correlation process to my sons when they were knee high to a grasshopper. They are familiar with this process of boiling issues down to fundamental parameters. While it never offers a final answer, it does point towards one, in a fuzzy kind of way.

Beyond words

Years ago I began to notice that I was incapable of really being in the moment when I was speaking – or even while I was thinking! In other words, when I’m speaking, I’m not reporting from an instantaneous state of knowing. Rather, I am passing on things I’ve already thought through some what. Speech references past experience, if even only a moment old. It is not of the ‘now’.  ‘Now’ is all I can truly know. The rest is only a partial view, after-thoughts, of the ‘nows’ dead and gone. On the other hand…

I speak (and think), to know what I know

Or perhaps I should say, I speak to understand what I know. How does this comport with one who knows does not speak; one who speaks does not know? In an ironic way these two are complementary, and follow each other. The knowing is that dimly visible essence we feel yet can’t nail down in words. On the other hand, speaking looses the deepest knowing just as saying “Oh look what a beautiful sunset” looses that magical moment.

That said, we need to speak (think or write) in order to understand what we know. By understand, I’m saying almost literally, to ’stand under’ in order to look up and see what we know. Certainly, much of the knowing is drown out by the speaking (thinking or writing), yet by giving our knowing a tangible aspect, we can cognitively play around with it. Like a carpenter sawing lumber and nailing it together, thinking what we know allows us to ‘nail something together’. And just like working with wood, the original tree, that uncarved block shatters and becomes vessels of which we can make use.

Keeping mindful of this tendency is invaluable. Conscientiously done, life turns out much better than otherwise I find. For me, chapter 14 speaks to this:

Hold fast to the way of antiquity
In order to keep in control the realm of today.
The ability to know the beginning of antiquity
Is called the thread running through the way.

So, what about the future. Shouldn’t we look ahead for potential opportunity or dangers which lie there? Actually, the real opportunities and dangers are found in the present. Being here in the moment is the best way to take advantage of opportunity and avoid danger. The future actually does take care of itself when I am fully engaging in the present. For me, chapter 64 speak to this perfectly:

It is easy to maintain a situation while it is still secure;
It is easy to deal with a situation before symptoms develop;
It is easy to break a thing when it is yet britle;
It is easy to dissolve a thing while it is yet minute.
Deal with a thing while it is still nothing;
Keep a thing in order before disorder sets in.

Looking out to the future actually robs from the present, and besides:

Foreknowledge is the flowery embellishment of the way, and the beginning of folly.

Speaking of foreknowledge, I tried my hand at foretelling it for awhile. In the 70’s I learned to read palms, cast horoscopes, do the I-ching, Tarot cards and a few other things. The most fascinating part of it was how people reacted to me telling them their past, present and future. Those that had faith from the start in what I was doing not only bought every word, but often amplified it. They believed!

Those who didn’t have faith from the start were less than convinced and neutral at best. It only went to show how our expectations play a huge role in how and what we see. Anything that seems to support our expectations reinforces them, and anything that doesn’t we usually discount heavily or ignore.

Never-the-less, cultures place great importance on the teacher, so what makes for a good teacher? Usually the answer centers on how capable the teacher is, and their command of the material. However, after home schooling my kids, I discovered the more important, yet under-recognized, side of teaching lay deeper.

Home schooling turned out well for my children. This was obviously not due to my command of the material. Sure, in some areas I have sufficiently knowledge, in others just minimal. Either way, I never really ‘taught’ them much of anything, at least overtly. The key to my ‘teaching’ success was simply not getting in their way! That allowed them to follow their curiosity. However, that doesn’t mean total laze fare. I was ‘right there’, but in a shadowy presence kind of way.

For example, Luke was learning computer programming, and whenever he ran into ‘insurmountable’ difficulty he would come to me. I know next to nothing factual on the subject; I would just be a sounding board, occasionally asking questions, or offering observations, based upon my overall life experience. It is amazing how well this approach actually works. The only true requirement was being patient and connected (i.e., generally curious and interested).

In fact, I reckon my sons have learned what they know more through what I didn’t say than anything I said. Does this have anything to do with the teaching that uses no words? I suppose, though even calling it that can become misleading.

Knowing when not to say something (teach) is most important, by far. That allows one to stumble as a child, which is how we all learn to walk and talk! Just imagine if your parents had hovered over you correcting every misstep as you learned to walk or to talk? Not fun! Not helpful! Not efficient! Doing it ‘wrong’ is essential part of finding how to do it ‘right’. Robbing them of that opportunity, while it might have felt helpful, I knew would actually hinder them.

I only set the overall tone of the environment, and refrained from micromanaging anything. This, allowed them to take on as much responsibility as they wished, no more and no less. This let them fulfill whatever innate potential they had. As our good book says, do not constrict their living space; do not press down on their means of livelihood. It is because you do not press down on them that they will not weary of the burden.

All things considered, I reckon that the social component accounts for 99% in teaching, while the teacher’s command of the material just 1%. This makes sense if you accept the proposition that one can only understand what one already knows intuitively. Granted, that is an impossible pill to swallow in a culture, like ours, that sees students as empty vessels into which knowledge can somehow be poured. Rather than pour knowledge in, the trick is to have conducive social circumstances which draw on a student’s thirst and intuitive knowing. Objective understanding and know-how come in due course naturally.

Finally let’s go back to the question of thirst, and whether a person truly wants to learn, or is thirsty for something else. They say it is better to teach a man to fish than give him a fish. But, what if he rather be given a fish than be taught? The former, being given a fish, is perhaps far more common, 99% to 1% more common in fact. Giving and receiving fish is a far more socially achievable relationship than giving and receiving a teaching. Furthermore, our deepest need (thirst), bar none, is for social connection, not for knowledge per se. Yet knowledge is held in the highest esteem; knowledge is power! All that is needed to bypass this kink in the way is sufficient cultural hoodwinking to make receiving of fish appear like receiving of teaching. Yep, a lot of hoodwinking goes on in human social interactions.

Back in the late 70’s I began teaching yoga. I soon noticed how many of my students began to see me as their guru. I was trying to teach them the yoga equivalent of teach a man to fish. Most weren’t thirsty for that; they wanted the yoga equivalent of being given a fish, and seeing me a their guru was one way to get that. I’m not saying this was intentional on their part. Far from it; it was simply innate social (tribal) dynamics. Personally, I couldn’t oblige them, and couldn’t help but do what I could to discourage it. Alas, I wasn’t thirsty for that type of teacher/student relationship⁽¹⁾. I suppose I am drawn to neither ‘a leader or a follower be’; ‘neither a hood-winker or hood-winkee be’. Perhaps…

I alone am foolish and uncouth.
I alone am different from others
And value being fed by the mother.

⁽¹⁾ That changed some with my own family and kids though. As a father, I naturally fell into the role of leader and teacher, albeit in a shadowy presence kind of way. I imagine that civilization is just too ‘mega’ for me to feel connected. A small hunter gather group around 20,000 b.c. would have been more my speed.

Background
Memories become dimmer as the years fly by. Many are even too misty to write down without filling in the voids with poetic license (fiction). Still, I’ve set out to fetch what memories remain before they fade any further. See: The Further One Goes for background on this ‘Times of Yore’ series.

A magazine's back cover c.1945

Today is my 67^th year here on earth.  The picture is a magazine’s back cover of me, at a lake in Arizona, in my birthday suit⁽¹⁾. From then until today, fate has been fortunate; I should have bitten the dust quite a few times by now. (I wrote about the first time in the blog Suicide Just Doesn’t Work.) As to my health, wealth and family, I couldn’t ask for more. Indeed, there are so many things to be happy for on this birthday, and every day. Don’t worry though, I’ll find a problem somewhere it that. Hmm, let me see…

Most striking too me is how easily we notice and dwell on what is ‘wrong’.  I’d say the cup’s half empty gene is more dominant than the cup’s half full gene. This is one of the more poignant, if not tragic, sides of life, in my view. Of course, Nature can’t abide any other way – we need to see the cup half empty more than the reverse to keep busy at the task of survival. We are but servants of survival.

Being told to smile?

I’ve found the most effective counter measure to this trap is knowing nothing! I guess this corresponds to the  Japanese proverbial ‘three monkeys‘  (三猿) — “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”.  Although, for me knowing Nothing suggests far more.  In my early years I fought ignorance by pursuing knowledge. The road to happiness, I felt, lied in knowing and doing things, the more the better. How else could I keep the half empty cup from draining away entirely.

Through experience I’ve gradually found the opposite to be so. More specifically, thinking that I know will always lead to difficulty. On the other hand, to know yet to think that I do not know is best. In practical terms that means being as hesitant and tentative about certitudes as possible. Patiently keep judgments fuzzy. Does my actively thinking that I don’t know arise out of a deeper knowing that I really don’t know? It is odd; it is ironic.

In papa's arms

It also gives meaning to the view, One who knows does not speak; one who speaks does not know.  Knowing I don’t know is knowing something. Yet saying (or writing) that I don’t know implies I don’t even know that much. It is all a bit confusing. Little wonder we say, to use words but rarely is to be natural. I think it is time for a margarita, with an extra shot of tequila for good measure.

⁽¹⁾ I don’t know what magazine this is from. As my parents were photographers, my brother and I did a lot of ‘modeling’ throughout childhood. The only difficulty I remember  about those years was being asked to “smile for the camera”. It always felt odd and forced. Years ago I did zazen in Japan. Afterwards, they took a group picture, and not a soul smiled for it. Now that’s my kind of photo shoot!

Here is another photo at that lake, and the text on the photo from the magazine:

Let Your Child Go Native

Such moments are rare but when it is possible, let your child come close to nature.

My, what a big head you have

Within a reasonable distance from most people’s homes there is a meadow, or a spot like this where, under supervision, children can open the pores of body and spirit to sun and air.

We can’t know just what it means to a child to feel that he’s on his own, even though you are nearby — and most of all, to feel that the world is his, and he is part of the world. He can’t know, but our common sense tells us it must be good.

Give your child his chance this summer if you can!

Background
Memories become dimmer as the years fly by. Many are even too misty to write down without filling in the voids with poetic license (fiction). Still, I’ve set out to fetch what memories remain before they fade any further. See: The Further One Goes for background on this ‘Times of Yore’ series.

'Dead men's words'

What is the difference between understand and know? Chapter 70 alludes to it perhaps when it states, ‘My words are very easy to understand and very easy to put into practice, yet no one in the world can understand them or put them into practice‘. Our cleverness at understanding is not matched by a comparable ability to know. The first, understanding, is theoretical. The later, knowing, is visceral. For example:

What do people and dogs have in common? They know what they know, and act accordingly. Dogs smell good food and eat; we smell good food and eat. Dogs see something they want and chase after it; we see something we want and chase after it. Dogs see something fearful and avoid it; we see something fearful and avoid it. This is visceral knowing, a teaching that uses no words.

The difference between dog and people is that dogs don’t understand. Only people understand which, absent deeper knowing, often leads to unfortunate consequences, e.g., Irag, Wall Street , obesity, etc. In a curious way, words and names permit understanding and this enables us to think that we know. You could even say that understanding is a form of ‘pseudo knowing’.

Or to put it another way:  We can only truly understand what we already know. If such knowing is absent, the understanding is only ‘pseudo understanding’. If that sounds radical and crazy, apply this observation to your own examples and ponder carefully. Chuang Tzu’s wheelwright story (below) illustrates this nicely. Here now are a few personal examples of differences I’ve noticed between the understanding and knowing:

Wall Street

In 1980’s I studied the stock market until I understood it, theoretically at least. I didn’t actually buy and sell stocks. Now, 30 years later came the opportunity to put understanding to work. I understood the importance of ‘buy low sell high’, patience, diversification, being bold when others were fearful (and visa versa). Most of these come under the heading ‘in action it is timeliness that matters‘. So, six months ago I began to act. Not surprisingly, it has taken being involved over these months to begin to actually know what I previously only understood. Also, not surprising, are the inevitable bruises and scares I incur as I descend down into the belly of knowing.

Gardening

While living in Japan I studied agricultural books. My ex-wife and I were planning to settle down on a 100 acres or so, either back here in the USA or in Australia. Divorce spared us that experience. I say spared because I’ve spent the last 30+ years gardening a few thousand square feet, not 4,000,000 (i.e., 40,000 sq.ft. = 1 acre).

By now I’ve forgotten much of that agricultural knowledge I understood. And yet I know much more what I’m doing. The understanding was word based; the knowing is experience based. Actually, I reckon that it would be impossible to write down what I know. There is a wonderful little story, ” Duke Huan and the wheelwright” by Chuang Tzu, which speaks to this essential difference between understanding (knowledge) and knowing.

Duke Huan and the wheelwright (excerpted from Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings)

Duke Huan was in his hall reading a book. The wheelwright P’ien, who was in the yard below chiseling a wheel, laid down his mallet and chisel, stepped up into the hall, and said to Duke Huan, “This book Your Grace is reading-may I venture to ask whose words are in it?”

“The words of the sages,” said the duke.

“Are the sages still alive?”

“Dead long ago,” said the duke.

“In that case, what you are reading there is nothing but the chaff and dregs of the men of old!”

“Since when does a wheelwright have permission to comment on the books I read?” said Duke Huan. “If you have some explanation, well and good. If not it’s your life!”

Wheelwright P’ien said, “I look at it from the point of view of my own work. When I chisel a wheel, if the blows of the mallet are too gentle, the chisel slides and won’t take hold. But if they’re too hard, it bites in and won’t budge. Not too gentle, not too hard-you can get it in your hand and feel it in your mind. You can’t put it into words, and yet there’s a knack to it somehow. I can’t teach it to my son, and he can’t learn it from me. So I’ve gone along for seventy years and at my age I’m still chiseling wheels. When the men of old died, they took with them the things that couldn’t be handed down. So what you are reading there must be nothing but the chaff and dregs of the men of old.”