Relationship: Looking inward
When we look at the word ‘relationship,’ we immediately think of someone or something outside of us. Krishnamurti said:
Life is relationship, living is relationship. We cannot live if you and I have built a wall around ourselves and just peep over that wall occasionally. Unconsciously, deeply, under the wall, we are related. (Krishnamurti, 1972, np)2
It seems as though we can only have a relationship with that which is outside of us. In school, one is urged to look inward, and that means to look within, to uncover and understand the truth of our existence in relationship to all of life.
The school is a place of relationship with nature, with the adults and students around me and most importantly with myself. If I do not recognize the importance of engaging with myself, then I can, at best, be someone who carries out tasks in a functional manner without ever truly understanding the meaning of why I do what I do. To be related, for me, is to be sensitive, aware, and attentive.
My mind captures images of everything and stores them as memories, adding to my knowledge. These often come in the way of my relationship with others as the mind tends to operate from these images. Thought gives its own description to what I observe, and I need to be aware of that, of that movement in my mind. A colleague once asked me as we were talking over a Krishnamurti text, “How can one stop thoughts from coming? It is impossible, isn’t it?”
At another time, during a retreat, when I asked the same question of another participant, the answer I got made me pause for a while and see if there was something that one could do. “Watch your thoughts and as they come, watch them pass you as you would watch the waters of a river flow. When it is passed, you know it is not there anymore.” These words have stayed with me, and though I have not been able to do it as often as I would like to, I have tried to watch my own thoughts and it has been a revealing experience. I see how caught up I am in defining my identity and holding on to it, for fear that without that identity, I will be nothing. I can only say that in my tryst with the Krishnamurti school and way of education, I have always been able to begin from where I am at that point of time. This is an opportunity to look inward and see how I relate to myself.
Krishnamurti has often spoken about cooperation and what it means to ‘come together’ as teachers in the work they do in the space of the school. This is not easy, as each individual is a different person, but if one were to look at the school and its work, then these individual identities somewhere melt into the background, leaving behind the purpose and intent of the school. Staff meetings are spaces that create the impetus to exchange ideas and discuss with an open mind about possibilities in school. Events that happen in school are usually organized without a ‘duty list’ that outlines specific tasks for each one to do. At such times, everyone takes charge of different areas of work and brings in their strengths to make things ‘happen’ the way they should.
Another example would be when the school relocated to its current campus a couple of years ago. All staff and students moved with the school to the new location, unmindful of the fact that the new campus is at quite a distance from the city. New schedules and structures had to be created, keeping in mind the variables that had changed. This might seem like an irrelevant detail for it is quite obvious that any institution, for that matter, has to work with change, and there is sometimes no choice in the evolution of these structures. To me, the move to the new campus is a reflection of the relationship each one has with the school, its spirit and what it has brought to individual lives in inexplicable ways. A mammoth task such as relocating a ‘living and working’ school is not possible without the fine thread of relationship that binds each one to that space.
Communication is not only the exchange of words, however articulate and clear those words may be; it is much deeper than that. Communication is learning from each other, understanding each other; and this comes to an end when you have taken a definite stand about some trivial or not fully thought-out act. (Krishnamurti, 2006, Ch.37, np)3
It is important to understand communication when one speaks of relationship. All relationship takes its birth in the bedrock of affection and respect. In school, we are in a relationship of learning with the student, with each other and the school itself.
There can be no relationship if there is assertiveness, authority, and mere acceptance of that. Krishnamurti has often said that relationship is the mirror in which we discover ourselves. He even says that without relationship one cannot exist. What does he mean when he says this? Perhaps it is to delve within and find out for ourselves, to be self-aware, to understand my pretences, fears, and motives. It is to uncover the ugliness that I do not wish to engage with. The true acceptance of oneself is the first step towards embracing another. When the ego dies, the self disappears and the ‘other’ becomes visible.
Life cannot be without relationship. If we can deeply understand the problem of relationship between oneself and another, then perhaps we shall understand and solve the problems of society, for society is but the extension of ourselves. The environment which we call society is created by past generations; we accept it, as it helps us to maintain our greed, possessiveness, illusion. In this illusion there cannot be unity or peace. As long as we do not understand individual relationship, we cannot have a peaceful society. (Krishnamurti, 2006, Ch. 67, np)4
Learning: A continuum
I write this paper at a time when the world is going through a crisis, the crisis of the pandemic. Never before have we been challenged like we are now. We need evolution. Krishnamurti said:
Learning is one thing and acquiring knowledge is another. Learning is a continuous process, not a process of addition, not a process which you gather and then from there act. Most of us gather knowledge as memory, as idea, store it up as experience, and from there act.
That is, we act from knowledge, technological knowledge, knowledge as experience, knowledge as tradition, knowledge that one has derived through one’s particular idiosyncratic tendencies; with that background, with that accumulation as knowledge, as experience, as tradition, we act. In that process there is no learning. Learning is never accumulative; it is a constant movement. (Krishnamurti, 1964, np)5
The absence of human contact, the fear and anxiety of getting affected by the virus and the reality of immeasurable loss, have had their impact on the physical and emotional well-being of all individuals. The school is like an oasis at this time, a place that has helped many of us just visit it to feel alive again.
The school, a place I have walked into every day, taking in the sights of children walking down the path as they get off the bus, laughing and talking as they make their way to their classes. I have often wondered what it is that they talk about and engage with in such delight. Sometimes, I have asked them too. The responses have sometimes led to questions around entertainment, pleasure, and how we understand them.
In the assembly hall as we sit down to sing together, songs of different languages, regions, written by poets over time, there is an energy that is felt, as it reverberates through the physical space into our very being. We all sit together, unmindful of who is next to us, singing softly or sometimes listening to others sing, but engaged in this act of coming together. Questions that are raised at this time are an attempt to bring to one’s attention, one’s responsibility to the school space. Discussions happen in this space, allowing for any question or idea that one may wish to examine. I remember in one assembly presentation a senior school student spoke about honesty and truth. At the end of that presentation, a ten-year old middle schooler raised his hand and asked, “Are you always able to speak the truth? I want to know because I feel that truth hurts and it is not easy to speak it.” The question was asked in all its seriousness and with the intent to understand the other person’s stance on it. The senior school student responded saying that it was not easy and maybe that is why it was important to speak the truth. Conversations are never conclusive and in the living quality of a moment when a question is asked, it always leaves behind it the trail of further questioning.
Truth is living, it is not static, and the mind that would discover truth must also be living, not burdened with knowledge or experience. Then only is there that state in which truth can come into being. (Krishnamurti, 2006, Ch. 26, np)6
Sitting together and having breakfast and lunch makes the simple act of eating so much more meaningful. Again, the table has students and teachers in a mix from across the school. To appreciate the effort of those who make the food for you is seen in the gentle reminders that students give each other if they see anyone wasting food. Likes and dislikes take a back seat, and the food is eaten because someone made it for you. Even food is used as an analogy to sometimes understand life. I remember this instance when a student pointed out that the beetroot always bled into the rest of the dishes on his plate making them all pink. To which a senior school student replied, “Don’t you think that’s something like life? No experience is independent in itself. It always has its shade from another and leads to another.” I still think of this student who passed out of school a long time ago, and this nugget of wisdom that he shared that day over lunch is something that has stayed with me.
A place that always sees action and vigour is the games field. This is the place where comparison and competition rear their heads often. Tears from a lost game often find their space in the classroom after games is over. A conversation to reflect upon questions of aggression, fair play and inclusion helps to understand oneself. To play well and play hard without feeling the pressure to meet others expectations and to give one’s best to a game is a learning that finds its expression in cooperative games. One such instance of a cooperative game that comes to my mind is of carrying a small cup filled with water by a group of students balancing the cup in the middle on a flat base to which varying lengths of threads had been attached with each end held by a student of the group. It took patience and slowing down for the group to figure out how to do this together. As one student remarked later, “It was just a matter of understanding each other’s strengths, Akka. Once we knew that, we knew how to go about the activity with ease.” Discovering for oneself and helping others see it too, there is immense learning there.
One is always comparing oneself with another, comparing one painting with another. There is comparison between the greater power and the lesser, between the timid and the aggressive. This constant measurement of power, position, wealth begins almost at birth and continues throughout life. This comparison is one of the many aspects of violence. The word more is always comparative, as is the word better. The question is: can the educator put aside all comparison, all measurement, in his teaching? (Krishnamurti, 2006, Ch. 26, np)7
Working together in the kitchen, making dishes or doing dishes, all of it brings to the fore the quality of ‘livingness’ to a classroom. One has to engage with the discomfort of doing things that one may not be used to doing. Breaking free of habit and paying attention to what needs to be done is a vibrant experience in itself. Cleaning the classroom, putting away things in their rightful places and doing something for the common spaces is a step away from the ‘self.’ Doing something for others, be it laying the table for lunch or putting away the chowkies (traditional Indian chairs) in class; all these create the climate for learning from doing seemingly insignificant acts.
Order can be brought about by watchfulness throughout the day, and then, before sleeping, by putting everything that has been done during the day in order. In that way the brain does not go to sleep in disorder. (Krishnamurti, 2006, Ch. 72, np)8
A middle school student once asked while doing the dishes, “Why do we have to clean everyone’s plates? Why don’t we just get a dishwasher, Akka?” I did not respond and waited to see if someone would pick the thread of conversation. Sure enough, there was a response, “A dishwasher uses too much water, do you think we should waste water?” I waited a little more and another voice piped up, “I think that everything we do in school is done together and this is one more such thing. I like it.” I had not intervened in this conversation yet and listened to see if more voices will express their understanding. A student who usually never talks surprisingly spoke and said, “If we don’t do it, the Akkas and Annas in the kitchen will have to do this job too. Don’t you think we all are responsible for the school?”
The washing continued after this with nothing more added. I smiled for I had not said a word and the students had themselves figured out the importance of doing something for another, of putting aside one’s discomfort and doing a task because it needs to be attended to and done. These are the moments when one sees how a Krishnamurti school is different in its approach to learning for it is about all of life, with all its beauty, challenge, and conflict. There is no running away from it all and the mere acceptance of something paves the way forward to engage and learn from whatever comes our way. It is not experience that is important but what it leaves behind in the mind of the learner, something more than the mere accumulation of knowledge, which can be limiting.
The school trips are a way of further seeing the world in all its colours. These experiences are not to tell the students that there exists a world ‘outside’ of school but to actually and closely examine the fact that the school is located very much in that world. These experiences are also not to create an idyllic setting or to define ‘ideas’ and ‘ideals’ that can be problematic in themselves. The intention is to appreciate life, to see the beauty in the ugliness, to be sensitive and sensible, to be accepting and non-judgmental and to see the immense possibilities that life holds for an individual.
I remember one of the school trips to Kotagiri, a small town in the hills of Ooty, where we had gone to study the Toda tribe and learn about their lives. As we went into the Shola forest, there was a quiet and silence that was almost physically palpable. When we neared the sacred space of the Todas, the person who was guiding us told us how the spirit of the forest took care of their needs and that this space was a celebration of the spirit. They had rituals and celebrations once a year to worship the forest spirit and only the men folk participated in these rituals. We were quiet as we listened to him. Upon our return the students had many questions. “Why do people believe in a spirit? Isn’t that also a kind of religion?” “How did the idea of god and worship reach a tribe that lives deep in the forest?” “Looks like we are all quite the same, whether we live in the city or far away from it. There is gender bias in a tribe too!” The discussion continued and there were further comments that appreciated the tribe, about how respectful these people were of their environment and how simple their lifestyle was. Observations and questions kept the group thinking and discussing their understanding of this hill tribe that was part of the larger world too. It was enriching to just listen and observe the earnestness of a group of young adults trying to make sense of the world, to see the nuances and identify how at a certain level all humans were essentially the same.
The pedagogies and the structures in a Krishnamurti school are created with the intent of recognizing the limitation of knowledge and engaging with each moment as it unfolds itself before us. I have said this earlier in my writing and I repeat: the school is a place of learning for both the student and the adult, for unless we examine ourselves in the light of all the knowledge we have accumulated, we will not engage authentically with the dynamic quality of learning.
As an educator, I have to engage with my fears, questions, and uncertainties even as I engage with those of the students. It is not that the former has to be resolved and then the latter can be attended to. It happens moment to moment, in our lives—of both the adult and the student. When Krishnamurti talks about learning, he talks about life. It is in the living of life that one learns. It is in the teaching of a subject that I engage with fear, anger, disappointment, and elation. If I do not engage with these questions, as and when they emerge, then my work as a teacher holds no meaning.
In closing
All the instances and experiences that I have shared in this paper are a reflection of my journey as a teacher and of my growth as a person. Every interaction and conversation that I have had in the space of the school has always left me with further questions and the urge to enquire. I have had the time to examine these questions around education and engage in dialogue with colleagues and others who are interested in this journey of ‘being’ and not reaching somewhere. There are those meaningful pauses that allow for reflection and each pause gives expression to a new question.
I have often heard from teachers who work in other schools that this approach to learning and to understanding life is only possible in a Krishnamurti school, that this space, this leisure, is not present in ‘nonKrishnamurti’ schools for adults to come together and examine with serious intent and reflect upon the essence of one’s living and being. That is my attempt in writing this paper, for educators everywhere, that as long as one is serious about one’s question, the path for its exploration emerges in that sincere attempt to inquire, and that many of these practices I have mentioned in my paper, can be followed and structures created for education to enable, as Krishnamurti says, the ‘flowering of goodness.’ It is also interesting that all these questions take their birth in a place like The School, abuzz with much activity and the daily humdrum of being with children! This is my tryst with Krishnamurti’s teachings.
There is no end to education. It is not that you read a book, pass an examination, and finish with education. The whole of life, from the moment you are born to the moment you die, is a process of learning. (Krishnamurti, 2018, para.152)8
References
1. Krishnamurti, J. (1972). Freedom, order, love and death: Public talk 3 Madras (Chennai), India. 16 December 1972. https://jkrishnamurti.org/content/freedom-order-love-and-death
2. Krishnamurti, J. (2006). The Whole Movement of Life is Learning (R. McCoy, Ed.). https://jkrishnamurti.org/content/whole-movement-life-learning
3. Ibid
4. Krishnamurti, J. (1964). Third public talk, New Delhi. 28 October, 1964.
5. https://hcloud.softether.net/kcollection/the_collected_works_of_j. krishnamurti_vol_14/1964-10-28_new_delhi_3rd_public_talk_28th_ october_1964.html
6. Ibid
7. Ibid
8. Ibid
9. The Krishnamurti Foundations (2018). Krishnamurti on Education. http://legacy.jkrishnamurti.org/krishnamurti-teachings/view-context.php?tid=43&chid=297&w=education&s=Context
Editors’ Note: This is the second part of a longer essay; the first part of the essay was reprinted in the Journal of Krishnamurti Schools Vol 26, 2023. This essay was originally published in ‘Other Education: The Journal of Educational Alternatives’, ISSN 2049-2162, Volume 11(2022), Issue 1, pp. 78-92.