Davina's Domain

This blog posting is excerpted from an article I wrote which was published in “California English” Magazine in 2003.   It’s not like my usual rather personal topics, but I think it’s an important thing to consider.

Several years ago I was assigned to create a remedial project focused on a    specific group of students, namely the ones who were “not making it.”  These were not totally unsuccessful students, but those who were in that zone of test scores which, if brought up just a little, would change the test profile of the school. So the purpose for the program was not only to help students, but also to make the school’s statistical profile look better to the State.

While my personal belief is that teaching for testing is a rather unsavory academic notion, it was my belief that these students could use help in their academic lives; it was my hope that they could be helped. So I devised a curriculum which would be both helpful and interesting for them.

Though there were records from many standardized tests the students had taken, they did not reveal just where these children fit into the testing picture. How did they test? Was it testing skill they lacked?  Information? The test scores told me the result, but nothing about the process each student went through to arrive at the result. What the test scores indicated was that these students were not able to understand material which others at their grade level did.

The first task was to give them a test with a vocabulary component and a reading section. The vocabulary became progressively more difficult through the test, with words ranging from first to twelfth grade level.  The reading passages were arranged similarly. This gradual change in complexity would enable me to chart each student’s level on a computerized scan sheet.

The plan was to have the students take the test, and then get them to go over the test to see why they had made errors. Lack of knowledge would definitely be one reason, but I was also interested to see how much of the difficulty stemmed from a lack of knowledge about test-taking itself. And so we began.

First came the vocabulary. In this section there were few surprises.  Most students scored fairly well on the first half, but on the second half the results were considerably lower. Overall, the scores were in the fourth and fifth grade range, with a few much lower and some higher.  There was no question that the vocabulary of these students was lacking, which of course was bound to contribute to their lack of understanding. The reading comprehension scores were also quite low for the whole class.

The graded computer forms – which had the correct answer printed next to any wrong answer – were returned to the students along with the actual reading test. They were paired with another student, and I told them to read each of  the reading selections again.  Their task was to find the evidence in the paragraph that led them to answer the questions the way they did. In this way they could analyze their thinking to see how they had arrived at their answers. If they got the question wrong, they had to find not only the reasoning behind their wrong answer, but also locate the evidence in the paragraph for the correct answer.

The students were animated and interested. But soon there was a bit of unrest, as a rather interesting situation developed. Many of the students were not sure that their answers were wrong. They defended their choices, despite the fact that they were “wrong” according to the computerized answer sheet.

Interesting dialogues began to take place.

“Miss Rubin, could you come here?”

“Yes, Juan, what is it?”

“Well, we have a question about the answer for this paragraph. See, the guy spilled the container of cream  in the back of the truck.  They ask what would happen next,  and it says  that the answer should be ‘he went back to his dairy’.  I know that’s what he would do, but wouldn’t ‘b’ – the price of cream would go up – also be true?

“Well, what would happen immediately next?” I asked Juan.

“Oh, yeah, I can see that. He would go back first.  But the price of cream would go up, wouldn’t it, because there’s less cream to sell. Right?”

Well, here is Juan, who can reason the law of supply and demand based on a small incident in a paragraph, and explain his reasoning. He definitely understood the paragraph, yet he is scoring poorly on the reading test.

Then came Lorraine. “Miss Rubin, could you come here?”

I walked over and she presented me with her problem.

“In this paragraph about the hunter and the lion,  it  asks  what would happen next. It says that the answer is ‘the hunter shot the lion.’ But that really depends on who the story is for.  I mean,  if this is a story for grownups,  yeah, the guy would shoot the lion.  But if it’s a story for kids, the answer would be ‘c, the lion ran away’.”

So Lorraine is analyzing the paragraph with respect to the audience for which the passage was written, and, based on her sound judgment, she writes an answer which is “wrong.” Her answer is not based on a lack of understanding, and is, in fact, quite sophisticated in its reasoning.  But her answer is based on thinking which is not taken into account by the test-maker.

Many of the students had this sort of problem. Their answers were “wrong,” but not because  they had just guessed wrong, or because they didn’t understand the passage. Their answers were considered incorrect because their ability to reason was still intact, and prevented them from thinking like the test maker. They had, in many cases, well-developed thinking and reasoning skills which rendered them unable to figure out the “right” answers. They scored lower on the test because they were thinking and reasoning too much, not because they couldn’t read or understand.

So my question is this:  Why are we devoting so much time to testing students instead of teaching them? We in the United States used to pride ourselves on our ability to go beyond the automaton answers, to think outside the box.  And yet the tests we give students force them more and more to function in the box, not reasoning and examining, but looking for the “right” answer according to the test maker.

It’s rather  ironic that Japan has recently been hiring American teachers to teach children how to think and reason creatively, because for so many years they were teaching them to simply get the right answer.

Some say we are testing children for accountability, so we can see if the children are really learning. This is a reasonable thing to expect.  But does testing tell us whether students are learning, or does it only tell us if we have managed to teach them what’s on the test, and how to take the test?   Are we making our students into glib learners who can answer the questions, but really know very little? And, if students begin to pass these tests in larger numbers, is that a good thing?

Testing is based on the idea that all students should be prepared to go to college. Yet there are many students who would benefit from a vocational education which could lead to a profession in graphics, auto mechanics, welding, furniture making or culinary arts; but there is no longer a place in most high schools for them to learn what they need. And, though they might be highly gifted in designing, or drama,  or in mechanical areas,  students who are not linguistically or mathematically oriented may do poorly on tests, and thus are labeled as “underachievers,” “slow” or worse. The result – students who can’t get into college, are not really suited to college, but who are not trained or educated for anything else.

We have lost a generation of craftsmen and artisans by trying to fit everyone into the college-bound mold.  I think we need a shift in the whole vision of school and its purpose. Our schools should provide students the opportunity to develop their skills outside the academic arena. Ultimately, schools should be places in which young people learn to be good citizens, and good humans.  They do this through having a knowledge of the world, and through finding the ways in which they can best use their gifts to contribute to the world. As we test our children to assure they fit the mold, and stifle all those who do not, think how much we are losing.

I had this quotation made into a poster many years ago;  it hung in my classroom along with a lot of others.  I have no idea who said it first.  Some people attribute it to Wayne Dyer, others to the author of a book with that title.  I don’t think it was either of them, but the thing is, if it’s the truth it doesn’t matter who said it, it’s still the truth.

When you first read or hear this statement, it sounds sort of like an in-your-face, “You don’t like it – tough!” sort of statement.  But in actuality, it is a deep assertion of the awareness that another’s perceptions do not constitute or determine our own self-worth.  And that our perceptions, the only ones we can judge by, do not necessarily see the whole truth about another person or situation.

I would explain this quotation to my students.  “If on the first day you meet me, not knowing me at all, and I remind you of your Aunt Effie, whom you hate, there is nothing I can do about it.  You can hate me, or you can find out who I am, and then realize I’m not like your Aunt Effie.  The second way is easier.”

When I was very young – probably about 6 or 7, I remember wondering whether, if I liked lime jello and my friend didn’t, was it because she and I tasted the same thing, and she didn’t like the taste and I did, or was it because we tasted different things?  We can’t ever know.  And we can’t ever know what aspects of a person’s experience and current mood and life situation form his decisions regarding who or what has value.  We never really see through another’s eyes, through his mind, or heart.  We can only judge by what we see, feel, or perceive.

I used to think that whenever I encountered someone who seemed angry or upset, that there was something wrong with me, or that I was in some way the cause of their displeasure.  I also remember the exact moment when the light dawned, and my whole viewpoint changed.  I was walking up the stairs in a school I attended at night, and my friend’s husband, a teacher whom I was friendly with, was coming down the stairs.  I said, “Hi, Mel.” Mel just kept on walking, head down, ignoring my greeting.

My first thought was, “He must be having a rough time tonight.”  And then I stopped in the middle of the stairs and experienced a startling recognition – that what was happening in his universe had nothing to do with me. This was a revelation.  It changed my life, because suddenly I knew that all my self-centered ideas about what people thought about me were just that – self-centered notions focused on what people thought of me, not what was actually going on for them.  It’s significant that much of the time I assumed they were thinking negative thoughts.  Which reflected back on…uh…me, and what I thought of myself.

So – as I said, this was life-changing.  I started to see other people more clearly, to notice when they were stressed or unhappy, and I was able to be a better friend, because I wasn’t thinking about what people were thinking about me.  And I also realized that what is most important is to be true to myself, to my values, ideals and ethics, and then I don’t have to worry about anyone’s opinion.

If someone doesn’t like me, or is having trouble being around me, and a work situation or life situation is being affected, I can sit down with the person and listen to what they are experiencing, without feeling at all threatened. Sometimes just listening, and saying “thanks for telling me,” without defending myself, is really, really helpful.  (I have done this, and usually it changed the relationship, if not to one of close friendship, at least to one of acceptance.)

I cannot be what others want in order to make them comfortable.  I can only try to live my life as consciously as possible, being present and being accepting of others.  I know that if I have a problem with someone, part of the problem always resides with me; I’m responsible for my half of the equation in any relationship.  As for me – I can be what I wish myself to be; it just takes work!

I’m writing about this because I realized the other day how many people I encounter in a given day, and how much I find I like most of them.  When I meet someone who seems curmudgeonly or unkind, I figure they’re having a bad day.  I smile, and if they can’t reciprocate, at least someone thought they were worthy of a smile.

Just a short note to let all of  you know that except for a small few (about 55) I have eliminated most of the comments on my blog.  I was getting nothing but spam from people, and it was so voluminous that is shut out my legitimate readers.  Thanks to my wonderful computer guru, that problem has been eliminated, and now all comments can go through.  I will be posting another blog shortly.

INTELLIGENCE and BRILLIANCE

Yes, yes, I know – it has been a looong time since my last blog.  I’ve been busy – fixing up my house, which came just before Open Studios.  Then more house stuff, then a brief break followed by acting in  a short play, which is now done.  So I apologize to those of you who have written and asked when I would continue, and my answer was always, “soon.”  Soon is finally here…

This may be a bit rambly, because I’ve been thinking about this topic for a while now, and had a lot of different angles that came up.  So I finally narrowed it down to looking at when intelligence crosses over into brilliance, and how to discriminate when calling someone “brilliant.”  A narrow topic, I know….

Intelligence, as I see it, has to do with what one does with knowledge.  You can have a lot of knowledge, or capacity, and still not be too intelligent, mostly because you don’t do anything with what you know, or with your potential.  To me the most important thing about intelligence is how it is applied, how it is used to create, to make something new, imagine a new idea.  We learn something and we build on it. That’s a real demonstration of intelligence.

Intelligence and knowledge are highly respected in this world. And in the developed world, it seems they are most respected as the means of gaining something.  Intelligence, that rare and wonderful gift humans are graced with, is often rewarded with money, fame, recognition and respectability.  Thus, it should be respected and honored most by those who possess it, and put to good use.

Lately I’ve been thinking about intelligence with regard to how we discriminate – or fail to discriminate – with regard to how intelligence is applied.  We often grant kudos to some smart people, but fail to take into consideration the effects they have created by using their intelligence.  I think it’s important that we look at this.

Take, for example, the highly intelligent (called brilliant by some) young (and some not so young) men of Wall Street, who consciously used their knowledge in order to cheat and deceive, bringing down not only the economy of the United States, but that of many other nations as well.  These men were really, really smart, but they used their intelligence and their knowledge to gain for themselves, and didn’t look once at the long term effect their actions would cause. Their knowledge was used without a thought to the destruction that would be wrought.  To me, not looking down the road at the effect one’s actions will have is not intelligent at all – it is the mark of unconsciousness.  Many people lost entire life savings, college funds for children, their homes, their futures, while these highly intelligent people were – to use their own words –  “making a killing” (an apt phrase) on Wall Street.

What a pity.  These men were – and still are, in come circles – called brilliant.  Amazing strategists.  The problem is, they were only thinking of themselves, their own gain, and not anything else. And they brought darkness into the lives of so many.  Think about what could have happened if the same very smart people had applied their knowledge, intelligence and consciousness to change the economic scene around the world for the better.  Then, in my opinion, they could be called brilliant.

I think there needs to be real discrimination when it comes to calling people “brilliant,” because brilliant to me has a completely different connotation.

What’s the difference?  Brilliance shines a light on others.  Brilliance illuminates, makes things brighter and better for everyone.  Brilliance utilizes not just intelligence, but that rare quality called wisdom.  One aspect of wisdom is the ability to use intelligence intuitively, so that the outcome is a positive one for all, not for a few.

When I think of brilliance, I think of a man like Muhammad Yunus, founder of the Grameen Bank.  His innovative approach to solving economic problems among the poor of Bangladesh is inspired.  And he didn’t just have the idea – he implemented it.  I think of a man like Dr. Depak Chopra, who uses his mind to illuminate the minds of others, and of architect Louis Isaac Kahn, about whom architectural teacher and critic Vincent Scully said, “Nobody ever gave off so much light.  It was a physical light that came from his imagination and the aliveness of his intellect.”

And when I think of brilliance, I also think of some of the unsung heroes in our world – those extraordinary  teachers who are so intelligent, and so bright that they shed light, not on themselves, but on their students.  The teachers who innovate, encourage, see the light inside their students, nurture it, and then send them on their way.

I know – this is probably such a narrow topic that it won’t make much difference to many, but I am really fed up with hearing people called “brilliant” when in fact they are simply really smart, but often unconscious.   I think it would be a good idea to apply the word brilliant with more discrimination, so that it comes to mean something that is tied to wisdom, and to future good.

The next time you call someone brilliant, think about whether they’re just really smart, or whether their intelligence contains within it a spark of wisdom that shines from them onto others, and whether that intelligence will affect the future by lighting the way.   Illumination is the mark of brilliance.

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A friend recently related a conversation with a colleague, who said, “I am so happy right now.  If only it would last.”  Well, chances are pretty certain that it won’t.

Now before you start thinking of me as a grouch, or pessimist, or simply bad-tempered, look at the comment realistically.  Life is not, for most people, a wonderful, happy, smooth ride.  There are bumps, ridges, difficulties, heartaches.  But those things happen in between the happy times – or maybe the happy times occur between the bumps.

What I’m trying to say is that happiness is fleeting – it isn’t a lasting condition.  But the good news is that sadness, difficulty, heartache and irritation are also impermanent.  And we have to remember that most of the things that occur in life are impermanent.  Storms pass over.  A day is sunny, and the next day is rainy, or cold, or way, way too hot.  Life is not a straight road.  And even in the little things – that sweater that you love so much will someday be a castaway; your close friend may move; a love changes and shifts.

So the thing is, we cannot expect to be happy all the time, though I have a sneaking suspicion that there are many who think that if they’re not happy, then something is really wrong with them. But if you remember that happiness is a temporary condition, you can also remember that the bad times are also temporary, and weather through them.

So all that being said, there is something that is permanent.  It’s called joy; it is similar to happiness, but it isn’t a temporary thing; it’s a thing of spirit.  Spirit is you.  It is not your body, not your mind, not your thoughts.  It is above, beyond, and all around you.  If you hold on to that in the middle of difficult times, you can remember that everything that is happening around you is not permanent; but you are.

In the midst of sorrow, failure, illness, distress of any sort – you are permanent.  Not the events, the outer shell of things.  Those are not permanent.  But you, and I, we are permanent.  Our bodies, the things we use to let people know we’re here, may get a bit run-down; our feelings may get hurt, or we may get angry, frustrated or feel alone; a loved one may be ill, or die, or leave.  These are events, and their effects are temporary.  But behind all that is the permanent part, the part that remains forever.

All of us live through many experiences, both good and bad, happy and sad.  And I have learned that though I may be happy at a given moment, or though I may be suffering at a given moment, I can participate in whatever is happening, with the certainty that it is temporary, and that things will change. And knowing that, being able to see clearly through all the temporary events, fills me with a different kind of peace and comfort.  That is joy.  That is spirit telling me that I will prevail through all things.

Before I post this blog, I want to mention a few “housekeeping” tips.  Some people have asked me to have a link to facebook, twitter, etc.  If you click on the title of the post, you will see only that post, with links  at the bottom of the page.  Responses with the same words as another reader’s won’t be posted.  And to those who are reading the posts, sharing with friends and adding them to social media sites, thanks!

“That’s Life.”  People use this phrase all the time, and always for unjust or generally negative situations.  A man loses his job. “That’s Life.”  Someone fixes up a house, gets ready to move in, and a flood hits.  “That’s Life.”

I have always found this a bit disturbing.  That’s not to say that negative situations aren’t part of Life, but they’re only part of the whole picture.  Birth is Life.  Winning an award is Life.  Feeling happy enough to dance around is Life.  My walks in the park show me Life everywhere – trees whispering in the puffs of breeze, birds chirping and fluttering between them, dogs chasing Frisbees or running up to say hello and get petted – all of it is Life.

You know, it’s rather interesting that we talk about Life as if we know exactly what it is.  And yet nobody has a firm grasp on what Life actually is, not even physicists or biologists.

The thing is, Life is an abstract.  When I used to teach my students about abstract nouns, I explained to them that an abstract noun names something that you cannot see, except if it’s in something else.  So, for example, you can’t see Love walking down the street, or sweetness, or anger.  Only when these qualities are embodied in something are they visible to us.

You can’t see Life all by itself, but Life is in everything – it’s in stars and starfish, pencils and pineapples.  Every atom, molecule, creature and plant is full of Life.  Life pervades everything.

When I plant a tiny seed, and green shoots rise up our of the earth, that’s a demonstration of Life.  And when I devour the fruit from those seeds, that, too, is Life.  Rain and rainbows, sun and sandstorms – all of it is Life.  Butterflies, snowflakes and slugs.  Life.  A young child crying her heart out for a pet who has died is full of life, even if it is not the part of life one wishes to manifest all the time.  Even Death is part of Life, and we don’t really understand that, either.  In fact, if we really understood what Life is, we might have a better grasp of what Death is, and not be so afraid of it.  And maybe even vice versa.

I was thinking about what it means to be “full of Life.”  Well, the trees in the park are full of Life.  Little kids playing soccer are full of Life.  I think a person who uses all of his allotment of energy during the time he has on Earth, who develops his mind, body and spirit and uses his faculties to create, and expand the lives around him, is full of Life.  Someone like that seems to create more energy wherever he is.  Clint Eastwood comes to mind. At 80, he is writing, producing, directing and starring in films, as well as writing the musical score for them.  Every actor in Hollywood and elsewhere wants to be in a Clint Eastwood film.  He creates a sense of joy, of accomplishment and cooperation, and each of his films is about deep truths.

People who are full of Life seem to bring Light with them.  (And, as physicists will tell you, we don’t really know what light is, either!)  Gandhi, Mother Teresa, The Dalai Lama, Barbara Marx Hubbard, Jesus and Mohammed, Byron Katie, Jean Houston, Carolyn Myss, Andrew Cohen and Craig Hamilton, – all are light bearers, and all are full of Life.  They illuminate, and Life is their most important product.  So I think being “full of Life” means one is full of light – uplifting, joyful, and illuminating.

Now, we can’t ignore the other side – darkness, fear, anger, sorrow and other such emotions.  They exist.  People who see nothing but their own need, and who will do anything to get what they want, seem to travel in darkness.  They breed fear and contraction rather than courage and expansion. And yes, they are part of Life.  They are using the energy Life has given them, but they do not bring more Life to those around them.   This is so, so sad.  These people seem to feel they have to suck the Life out of things, as if they don’t think there’s enough for everyone.  We don’t have to look far for these people.  They’re around, and in much evidence, thanks to all the news reports.

But despite what the media would have us believe, they’re only a tiny fraction of what Life is.  Life is everywhere; it’s impartial.  It doesn’t pick on one person to have a lot, and another to be in want.  Part of that is choice, and part of that is luck and circumstance.  But Life fills us with potential, with light, and with possibility for good.  Every day we get the gift of Life; how we live that day is our thank-you note.

So the next time you see a sunset, say to yourself, “That’s Life.”  The next time your child gets an ‘A’ on a test, tell him, “That’s Life.”  When you see a hummingbird flutter its wings right in front of you, whisper to yourself, “That’s Life.”  Affirm Life by giving it its due.  And if you read this and feel good, tell yourself, “That’s Life.”

This is my first blog in over a month.  Thanks to all of the people who have sent responses, and encouraged me to write more.  I have taken it to heart, and will write another blog in a week.  This has been somewhat hastily put together, so I apologize for any apparent rambling.

Several nights ago I had a dream.  I often don’t remember my dreams, so this dream was unique in that I remembered it very clearly.  In the dream I was speaking to someone, and telling him to remember that I loved him.  It was not a romantic event, but those were the words I spoke.

And then, in the dream, I was told – or perceived – that I wasn’t speaking from my authentic Self.  I found this very interesting, and in the dream I began to ponder what that meant, and what loving really was.

When I woke, this was still on my mind, and I thought about it for some time.  I actually think that maybe in the dream some Higher Self, or Intuition, was guiding me to look at this and come to some understanding regarding love and loving.

George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “You can only love others when you love yourself.”  That, or a variation of it, had been a well-known platitude long before Shaw wrote it.  Some might say that advice  is just an overused bromide.  But the thing about platitudes is that, while we may have a habitual response to them, there’s a reason they’ve been around for so long, and are so oft-repeated.  It’s often because they express a deep truth, and there is a great deal of value in the advice they offer.

So I looked at this truism. “You can only love others when you love yourself.”  I spent an hour in a meditative/contemplative state in which I went deeply into the question of self-love.  I took a walk in the park near my home, and on the walk every tree, rock, bird and all the other walkers (and their dogs) seemed full of love to me.  The birds were so happy to greet me; the trees were lush and full of life.  The dogs all wanted to say hello.  I was full of love, and I saw love in everything.

A small digression here.  Have you ever been an observer of an event, and then later heard someone relate the event in an entirely different way than you heard or saw it?  You observe an exchange between your friend and another person which seems pleasant enough, and then later your friend relates the exchange, describing the other person as totally rude and unpleasant.  You wonder whether you and your friend were in the same room when this event took place.  I think this kind of thing happens often, and it made me look at perception, and how it colors all we experience.

What I came to see with full clarity on my walk and in my meditation is that, if everything I perceive is  filtered through my perception, then it is all an aspect of my nature.  So in loving myself, truly and really appreciating all the aspects of myself, including imperfections and difficulties still to be surmounted, then I see the world as full of love, and I come to love everything else, or at least have compassion or understanding.

Our ideas about what this world is about are all our own creation, because those ideas emanate from our perceptions.  So each person, tree, animal, or rock we come across is viewed from our own lens, our own experience of it.  This made me realize I create everything from my image – or, perhaps more precisely, everything is as I image it.  It also means that everything is a mirror for me, to hold up to myself, and see.  If I dislike someone, then there is a mirror to look at, and learn from.  (This may be why experience is the best teacher, if we are willing pupils.)

Now I realize that this may sound self-centered, but I don’t mean that the world is all about me.  I mean that the world each of us lives in is the world each of us creates.  So every idea and perception in your life is created from your perceptions, and can be a mirror for you.  If you see a lot of unpleasantness, unkindness and negativity, maybe it’s a good idea to look at yourself in that mirror, and see how much of what you perceive is created by the lens you’re looking through.

“You can only love others when you love yourself.”   I could have repeated that saying a thousand times, and I have known it intellectually for years, but it became real and true from my heart on that morning a few days ago, and everything opened wide.

I will post a new blog topic in the next few days, but because quite a few people have requested information about the blog and my site, I am answering them here.

1.  The theme for the site is my own painting, “Cityscape” which is owned by Susan Schnebly.

2.  I am not interested at this time in guest bloggers.  This site is specifically for my own thoughts and ideas, and if you wish to comment on what I write, you may do so.  Many people who know me are sending comments to me personally, but I answer comments wherever they come.  I appreciate all of the comments except the spam and repetitive comments.

SILENCE
April 18, 2012

Before I begin this entry, I want to say something about the topics I write about.  I suppose it’s actually a form of caveat.  I write about things that I have struggled with, learned about and am still learning about.  I am not an expert, have not achieved as much as many others in many of these areas.  So I am really writing what’s on my mind with regard to these topics, and what I have experienced and learned about some things.  I don’t write every week simply because sometimes I don’t have much to say about anything, but when I do write, it’s not from the vantage point of an expert, but of someone who’s traveling the road and reading the signposts.

* * * * *

Silence.  To me it means more than just quiet; it means a sense of peace, of stillness, and of strength.  The silence I’m speaking of is not simply the absence of external noise.  One can always turn off television, close doors and windows, and rid oneself of outside noises.  But there is a silence that goes deeper than simply the absence of those sounds.  It is the inner silence that comes when we are able to still the mind.

The mind is probably the noisiest place of any we encounter.  It never seems to let up; it’s always chattering and blabbing.  You can turn off television, radios, phones – but turning off the mind is a whole different thing.  It takes work to still the mind, to reach that point of inner quiet that surpasses just the absence of sound.  And once one achieves that inner quiet, it is even more difficult to carry it with you into the noises of life.

Meditation is the only way I know of to achieve a deep silence that brings quiet, calm, and something more – something magical, which is the realization that I am not my mind, and I am not the thoughts my mind creates.

In meditation I become the observer of the mind; I learn that paying attention to the mind is not the same thing as getting lost in my thoughts.  The more I simply observe the mind, the quieter it gets, until I am alone, sitting in no time, no place.  Quiet.  From this vantage point behind the mind I can see the impermanence of anything that troubles me, because in the stillness it is obvious that those things do not matter.  They are temporary.  The stillness, the silence, has a permanence to it that endures past all the petty occurrences of the day.

Many years ago I talked to a Buddhist monk who was a Tibetan refugee living in India.  He came with a group of monks to my town, and one afternoon I said to him, “When I meditate, I have trouble keeping my mind still.”  He looked at me directly and asked, “Why should you be any different from the rest of us?”

Yet just because it’s challenging doesn’t mean I don’t do it; I meditate every day.  Some days are miraculous; the outer world disappears, time falls away, and there is a peace and stillness that is like a deep, deep well of joy.  Other days my meditation might be filled with chatter that takes a long time to die down; some days it never does,  But when the silence comes it is a blessing.  And the reason it is a blessing is because I realize that all my thoughts do not define me; I am the thinker of the thoughts, but not the thoughts themselves.  I am the observer of my mind’s meanderings, but I am not my mind.  I simply am.

In the silence of meditation, I know that I am the Knower, the Perceiver.  And I can change my thoughts, or ignore them, or use them.  The more I meditate, the more I come to see that my mind does not control me, I control the mind.

And if this essay gives you the notion that I’ve ever achieved Nirvana or its equivalent, please read the first paragraph above.  I am a work in progress.