STEPHEN SMITH IN CONVERSATION WITH ALOK MATHUR
Steve: It seems to me, increasingly, that we are only touching the surface of our ever-mounting problems: the roots of our unhappiness lie much deeper. And nothing we are doing in the contemporary world—the prodigious advances in technology, for instance—does anything to alleviate—indeed, it exacerbates—the isolation both existential and immediate that hangs about us like a cloud. We have abdicated the field of education—what one might call true education —for measurement, averages, point scores and placings, leaving the vast terrain of the psyche untouched. What we need is access to this vast terrain, some tentative yet quietly balanced exploration of the hidden depths that control our behaviour. Without that, invent or expand as we will, we shall remain barbarians at heart, with a cultivated coating of knowledge and sophistication. Nor will our problems be solved by wealth, that ‘pot of gold beyond the sky’ which, materially or spiritually, everyone is looking for. We must turn inward to find true wealth—but how?
Alok: I deeply feel what you are pointing to. With the explosion of social media and more recently the seductive advance of Artificial Intelligence, we seem to be getting increasingly immersed in a self-generated technological space, and quite out of touch with actuality. This is a recipe for a highly fragmented relationship with the world…a sense of alienation from others, from nature, and from our own human nature. And it is evident that education, as it is conceived and largely practised today, has been captured by the frameworks of measurement and economic compulsions that you allude to. How can we even begin to circumvent these compulsions that so distort the psyche? Does this not demand a more mindful approach in schools, one that engages the different dimensions—biological, social, intellectual, emotional and much more—that makes us human?
Steve: There is much talk, and some implementation, of what is called ‘mindfulness’ in various schools, which seeks to calm the wandering mind and bring it back to a point of focus. In terms of raja yoga, it has been going on for centuries: take one strong thought and use it like a stick, to beat down and beat away any would-be intruder. Hold the fort! There may be other so-called meditative practices which are at times introduced. These may have some value as far as cleansing the mind is concerned, but they do little to heal the psychological rift between one part of the brain (the observer) and that other vast terrain (the observed). For, however far one travels with this paradigm, sooner or later it is revealed for what it is: inherently conflictual. There is no thought other than thought itself—no grander, finer Supermind. To bring it back to Krishnamurti, the observer is the observed. Absolutely.
Alok: You are jumping to an insight that is not at all evident to our everyday minds. Could you say something more?
Steve: This is not the description of a static state, for thought itself is constantly moving, but rather an indicator of its pliability and swiftness. And, as in any relationship, the onus is on us to get to know ‘the other’ (the observed) with its secret promptings of heart and mind. One cannot do this from a sit-back position: it requires what Sartre calls engagement (commitment). The stream of consciousness flows inevitably, and we learn nothing unless we immerse ourselves. Curiously, however, this ‘immersion from the bank’ is not an act of self-willed bravado but, if anything, one of ‘let’s wait and see’ as, tentatively, one explores the depths. Iridescences are here, little miracles for the taking, as the cloud of obscurity gradually lifts and we find ourselves in a different world or, rather, the same world at a different level of perception. The dreadful monochrome cast is thrown and what is left is what is in all its splendour. The firm, beautiful body of the world is starkly revealed in its nakedness. There is a sense of the infinite . . . the beginning of meditation.
Alok: Is ‘meditation’ something one might touch through such an exploratory engagement? Clearly, it is not something like a daily practice or a technique to be taught.
Steve: It is not something one strives for but is given to one, as it were, ‘on a plate’. It is not the fruit of one’s endeavours, however well-intentioned they may have been. It is, as the German philosopher puts it, in Ding an sich: something by, for and in itself. It is non-comparative, and it has no equal. And yet, it is an Open Field.
Alok: Are you suggesting that the psyche may reveal its depths when ‘you’ are not pushing at anything, not striving in any direction? Does the psyche, that is our consciousness, then have space for ‘getting to know itself ’? Perhaps in letting go of the surface layers of thinking one senses deeper connections within oneself, and with the world as it is, and not as something apprehended or filtered through concepts or mental models. Would you say this is the preserve of a few mature and sensitive adult minds? Or can anyone—I am thinking of a teacher in a school, or for that matter, even a young child—come upon this movement…or non-movement? I do believe that many children, when they are very young, are alive to the world in qualitatively different ways from most adults: they perhaps relate to things much less through the layered thinking of the intellect and more through bodily senses and unspoken intuitions. And yet, could older people too, along with the young, have a feeling of this ‘immersion’, of awakened senses and inward knowing? Are you, in fact, suggesting that this form of engagement with an ‘open field’ is something that education needs to be concerned with?
Steve: The field of education has been impoverished because, too quickly, we have put blinkers on it: we know where we are going, and that is the problem. The categories of knowledge inherited from the Greeks allow us to work assiduously—to experiment, to invent, to discover and have insights—but they lack a deeper coherence, what David Bohm, presumably, was searching for when he wrote and talked about the implicate order. It is something at once whole and not of separate parts; indeed, nothing exists outside of it. From the tiniest particle to every living being, to the most monolithic structure, it accounts for everything—without being accountable! Both the is and the is not of existence. It defies definition: it is the Whole in action. The swiftness of perception, when the observer is the observed, allows for no half-measures, no backsliding. It is like a precious jewel, given in trust. One cannot—indeed, one dare not—hand it back.
Alok: You’ve said a lot there and I wonder if I am getting something of what you are alluding to… Let me try and put it in my own words: over the centuries our intellectual heritage, deriving from the Greeks as well as other traditions, has parsed the world and our human existence into categories and concepts. This has allowed us to increasingly gather knowledge of different sorts, and we feel compelled to pass on some of this to our children; but this essentially separates us from a deeper living reality. All our endeavours collude to maintain this separation, self-created ‘observers’ confined within our self-generated mental mappings. You are suggesting that the universe, including all that lies therein, may in truth be an unbroken wholeness… to which it is our deeper human calling to respond. Instead, we are moving further into our own techno-bubbles. And yet, if this separation were to be dissolved—one really doesn’t know how—there is no going back! Are you saying that this would bring a complete shift in perspective, in the meaning of life itself? But what has all this got to do with learning, with education as it might be approached?
Steve: Well, quite simply, everything! It is not that we should try to align it with our categories, well-intentioned as they are, for this is the moment of true revolution, when the Old Order is broken and a new one shoots forth. There is no way one can put the ‘new seeing’ back in place, like putting the genie back in the bottle, for the genie is screaming to be watered. In other words, what is being challenged is the nature of the ‘seeing mind’ itself. We have taken it for one thing and now we find it is another. Can one live with such a mute mutation? Can one live with its many implications?
Alok: Are you suggesting that such a ‘true education’ might enable a ‘mutation’ in our very being? Here, I am totally stumped! … But to begin to think it out as a possibility: as a starting point I visualize an educational space, a school, in which adults are not simply out to impress their worldview or their inherited categories of knowledge and prejudices on the young. They encourage children to relate to and learn about the world using their perceptual faculties: observing, listening, sensing, feeling, doing… which means being in contact with soil, rocks, plants, insects, birds, and other life forms. And, to the extent possible, in this more direct way, with people and the built environment that makes up their surround. However, we cannot deny that language and symbol systems are as much a part of our human culture. And the push towards literacy, numeracy and various forms of knowledge are an inevitable necessity for engaging with the complex environments that we have constructed. I wonder whether it is possible for our senses to remain open, quietly attentive to things as they are? Can we learn to relate with others and with the natural world with a certain simplicity, a certain openness?
But, Steve, just to invoke the huge challenge in all of this: children also come with their own early conditioning and, as they grow older, the pressure of social relationships and the need for belonging to some group or the other, to have some kind of identity, seems to become paramount. This is accompanied by the rapid accretion of the layered and constructed ‘self ’, which, while identifying with some, separates us from others. The approach of adolescence often triggers an even greater rise and fall of emotions—there are the reactions of pleasure and pain, with their contradictions and confusions. These factors may very well continue in some form through one’s life. The ‘self ’, assuming multiple identities, rides on the surface wave of time, with its past, present and future preoccupations, and this occludes what might have been the relatively innocent perceptions of childhood. The unknown depths of our being remain obscured. I think this is where the greatest challenge lies for the psyche. What are the young or the old to do with this compulsive movement that has its own momentum?
Steve: What if the confusion we live with daily were not just mine, or mine alone, but the manifestation of a universal phenomenon, something we all share in, part of the Stream? Would that not make a whole lot of difference? Seen this way, our own personal neuroses would be seen not as some local aberration, but as arising from a universal current, the ‘stream of consciousness’ we call ourselves. Here, surely, is a richer source; here we might with uncluttered vision find the origin of what men call sin, the missed mark, the grievous fault embedded.
Alok: I think I see what you mean… you are suggesting that our so-called individual ‘streams of thinking’ continually arise from and contribute to that hugely aggregated phenomenon that is the ‘collective stream’ with all its content. This manifests as the fragmented and divided world that each of us experiences. Paying attention to this ‘stream of thinking’ that shapes us must then be a vital aspect of education. The teacher and student are both in it. Even as we relate with each other, if there are occasions for bringing this stuff of our inner lives to the surface, we may begin to uncover its contours. This could perhaps happen in an atmosphere of affection and care—in conversation, in sharing, questioning, listening, observing, feeling each other out. In moments of quietness, we do become aware of our responses and reactions. If we are sensitive, we may notice that others too have these inner movements. Rather than quickly categorizing emotions and behaviour into ‘good’ and ‘bad’, ‘pleasurable’ or ‘painful’, we may learn to pay attention to these movements of thought-feeling and sense that others too are subject to desire, pleasure, envy, anger, and fear in its various forms. This lessens the sense of isolation and separation. It could also awaken empathy and give room to look anew at oneself and others.
Could we then also tentatively probe the shared roots of what you call ‘sin’? I now sense that this so-called ‘original sin’ in our psyche arises from this split between the ‘observer’ and the ‘observed’. I wonder what makes possible the ‘uncluttered vision’ that is necessary to even begin to sense this split? Being mindful of our ‘stream of thoughts’ by itself is not sufficient. It begs the question: ‘who’ is it that is ‘being mindful’ and of ‘what’? And with what impulse? It brings us back to the ‘observer’ and the ‘observed’. I wonder, what then is ‘meditation’?
Steve: Mindfulness is a palliative, meditation a revolutionary event. Meditation is not an outcome; it is not in a posture nor is it a reward. It doesn’t depend on Time at all. Nor, strictly speaking, is it anything one can practise. It comes upon one, bursting forth, the fruit of many hours of close observation. No amount of talking will do it, nor will breath withheld, nor chanting of a mantra. For ‘the work’ takes place in the minutiae, in the detail, in the patient watching, hours by hours. Only thus can we build the necessary stamina to take us through the inevitable ‘hard times.’ In a sense, it isn’t something one does at all, but rather something that comes to one, that drifts in on the wind when the window is open.
Alok: So, it is not contingent on introducing some forms of ‘mindfulness’ practices, or ensuring some leisure during the day, or even a time for dialogue, however beneficial these might be. What is needed is to let this seed of ‘inward looking’ take root…allow it to be nourished whenever and in whatever way possible, in ‘hard times’ and ‘easy times.’ If there are some non-directed, natural spaces for teachers and students to simply be attentive during the waking hours, could it not be that something else happens—without premeditation, unexpectedly. Could this open up a silent space beyond the stream of thinking, allowing in a fresh breeze that heals this primordial split and awakens a feeling of renewal? Perhaps this might happen—at least for some—during occasions such as the evening gathering atop a hillside that we used to call ‘asthachal’.
Steve: It happens whether one wants it or not and, in this sense, it is totally impersonal. The circumstances may be replicated, but this will not bring about the sought-for breakthrough. Nothing that is sought-for will. The flower bursts through in its own way, in its own time, and that is its beauty. It is an organic process from first to last. The Journey ends where it begins—with oneself.
Alok: But does this mean that watering the soil of inward looking, of observing the self-movement, is the only key, and that there is no role for study and inquiry, for probing our inherited knowledge and our human condition? One could very well ask: what is the purpose of the school curriculum, of teaching and learning in classrooms, which takes up so much of our time and effort?
Steve: To speak of inquiry in this context may seem spurious, too much part of the ‘movement of measure’, which we are trying to replace with something more holistic. But, seen another way, it is part of the Journey, a necessary, articulated putting-into-place. For our disorderly minds certainly need a houseclean; there needs to be order in the realm of thought. Logical, coherent thinking is required, as also close examination of our convictions, quirks and foibles, before an accurate picture—and it is but a picture—can come to present ourselves to ourselves. In this sense, the reflected light (chidhabasa) must be turned on and functioning properly. As K said frequently, ‘We must put the house in order.’
Alok: Here, I feel that engagement with knowledge needs to be given its proper place. Not just the accumulation and regurgitation of received subject knowledge, but more an inquiring approach, an engagement with concrete realities as well as wider human perspectives. This develops a capacity to question, uncover assumptions, form connections, apprehend the big ideas and logic of the disciplines, and relate these with oneself and the phenomenal world. This surely builds some intellectual ‘muscle’ and clarity, a capacity to think logically, coherently, as well as intuitively. This could be applied not only to apprehending and solving the messy problems of the world, but to one’s inner life as well. One’s inner life is often full of beliefs, assumptions, biases and contradictions, and to be able to examine these and clear up at least some of the mess the intellect must be an aid in self-understanding. This, I feel, would help in some measure with an inner sense of ‘order’.
Steve: Ultimately, this is a task that no one can do for us. And, if we stumble, we must pick ourselves up. There is no help anywhere—except in ourselves.
Alok: Isn’t this ‘stumbling’ too a part of our human condition? For in our everyday lives and relationships, we are subject to a plethora of influences, pressures, choices…divisive factors that arise and evoke reactions from within. The ‘self ’ seeking its own security tends to channel energy within narrow grooves, with its conflicts and contradictions, ever pushing us ‘out of sync’ with the Whole. While the ‘self ’ remains tenaciously in operation, can we ever deeply feel our own limitation, our self-created boundaries? To many of us there might seem to be no way out.
Steve: This does not mean it is a lost cause. Ultimately, it is a matter of maturation: what begins as a seed is bound to grow. Even at the level of thought, this is true. The universe is engaged in an expanding trajectory and, similarly, our minds are bent on expansion, which is one—but not the only—explanation of striving for the more. We want more—financially, societally—and our minds travel in pursuit of these goals. It is the same with non-material objectives, getting to the top of ‘the pile’, being the master of note or paint. They are all driven from below. And spiritual goals are no different: the search for a position of superiority is what drives many to seek ‘the top’.
Alok: The self ’s urge for expansion is, of course, behind this striving for material, intellectual or spiritual wealth. This inevitably takes us out on a limb, distorting the psyche. To become acutely aware of these pitfalls, and sidestep them, would that not be the act of an awakening intelligence? Much of what we have said so far suggests that education, when it touches deeper layers of the psyche, prepares the ground for being able to help ourselves skirt this tendency, even as we traverse the inevitable seesaw of our lives. It needs intelligence to allow that seed of inward knowing to deepen its roots in the darkness and stretch towards light. Perhaps the seed might blossom as ‘insight’ into the essentially ‘empty’ nature of the self.
Steve: These are not necessarily insights but the fruit of clear thinking, which can and must be cultivated; otherwise, our inquiry is lopsided and the balance we spoke about earlier is missing. For the universe, as Professor Carlo Rovelli has pointed out, is fundamentally about relationship: it begins and ends with relationship. The subtle realm of quantum physics is increasingly underlining this fundamental feature of the universe. Strange, then, if on the way—obscurely, darkly, one must say—it ran out of relationship with itself, which, incidentally, human consciousness seems to have done. What a tragedy would be there!
Alok: What you are saying is that the imperative of ‘true education’ is to respond to this tragedy as it unfolds on our Earthly realm. Not only is this needed to discover our deeper relationship with each other, with nature, but it also urgently points to the way the universe seeks to restore harmony with itself. The possibility of coming upon ‘true meditation—where the ‘observer’ is the ‘observed’—would be integral to this.
Steve: Harmony is the balance of all the parts equally. Nothing is extraneous, everything coheres. This is so, right down to the tiniest particle. There is order where there is no ‘self ’, when all its devious twisting and turnings have worked themselves out and there’s nowhere else to go. For where there is nothing, there is everything.
Alok: Thank you, Steve, for this conversation. I hold these jewels of clarity close to the heart. May these shine through and find expression in the field of education. And may coming upon this field of ‘nothing’ that is ‘everything’ bring the possibility of harmony and grace to our human lives.
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A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.
—Albert Einstein