A Broken Cup

Recently, I've been taking the time to read the entire California Content Standards for Kindergarten through Third Grade.  My intention was to find creative ways to present this material to A. throughout the year.  I thought that she needed to keep up with her peers and feared that I would somehow be putting her at a disadvantage if she wasn't learning what the Joneses were learning.   

On September 12th, we hit the books pretty hard and, unfortunately, I was hit with more resistance from A. than I ever imagined possible.  She is a bright cookie and understands just about anything you put before her... but, quite suddenly it seemed, she wanted nothing to do with anything I gave her.  Of course, this was a huge red flag that we were doing something wrong... so we just s-t-o-p-p-e-d doing everything. 

We've taken a few days off for emptying our cup and I'm hoping that here, with a beginners mind, we'll discover something altogether new.  In fact, if I had to take the cup analogy even further, I would say that we've thrown the damn cup on the floor, stomped on it and shouted, "to life!"  Maybe here, amidst the broken [deconstructed] pieces, we can find a new perspective. 

Meanwhile, I've been plodding along at John Holt's classic, How Children Learn, and having quite a few light-bulb moments about my approach to our studies.  It seems that I've created a little version of public school at home again.  I'm so conditioned by my own education that I unconsciously fall back to this paradigm again and again!  Un-leanrning, it seems, is more difficult than learning!

Yesterday, I gathered all of the content standards together and set out to organize these several hundred pages into a three-hole binder.  Today I've discovered a better use for them and a better use of our time.  Instead of stressing about how to teach what the state of California has deemed necessary, I'm spending the next week paying attention to my girl and re-discovering what amuses her mind.  It was after all, a great mind, one who did not attend a factory-model school, who said this:

“Do not train a child to learn by force or harshness; but direct them to it by what amuses their minds, so that you may be better able to discover with accuracy the peculiar bent of the genius of each.” - Plato

Our Ever-Evolving Pedagogy

I finally got my hands on a copy of John Holt's classic, How Children Learn," and I am loving it.  His observations take me right back to when A. was a toddler and my own fascination with her innate ability to learn.  I'm about a quarter of the way through and will try to post some of my thoughts and favorite excerpts as I go.  

If you've followed our blog for very long, you might have noticed our ever-evolving methods.  In preschool, I fell for the "more-faster-better" mindset of early education.  I was so mesmerized by how fast A. learned that I thought the best thing to do was set up a little version of school at home, teach formal lessons, and keep spreadsheets of what was learned.

By Kindergarten I'd seen the error of my ways, began slowing down, and became more conscious of the need to nurture A. as a complete human being and not just a mind to be filled with information.  We began exploring Waldorf and Montessori methods and incorporated both into an eclectic style of home-education.  

For First Grade, we used the complete Oak Meadow curriculum and, while we both enjoyed it, I felt as though my own creativity was being squashed a bit by my conflicting desire to go by the book.  I also noticed that A.'s natural pace is pretty fast and that she, like I imagine all children, becomes board when she's not challenged.  I learned that I needed to balance nurturing with inspiring.  The beauty of home-education, of course, is that we can curtail each day to keep interest high and encourage that innate passion for learning.

For Second Grade, we're flying without a net for now -- although I am considering purchasing the Oak Meadow Second Grade Syllabus and using the lesson plans for inspiration.  I'm also reading the California Content Standards through Third Grade and thinking up ways to reach those goals without worksheets or too much desk time.  I'm not married to the standards, however, and do plan to take great liberties with them.

I'm discovering that, if left to her own devices, A. will draw, paint, read, observe nature with her binoculars, write and illustrate little books, play piano, invent games (she's particularity fond of creating board games with intricate rules and pieces), and, of course, engage in imaginative play.  I'm trying to cultivate a more relaxed attitude and trust that learning takes place naturally; however, I am also admittedly so conditioned by my own education that, for me, it's essential that we stick to a flexible schedule and work towards specific goals.  I guess you could say that we're eclectic, partially child-led homeschoolers still slightly fearful of taking the leap into purely orthodox unschooling.

We're studying Homer's Odyssey right now.  We found a great edition titled, The Adventures of Odysseus by Barefoot Books and we're using this myth to inspire inquiry into all of the other subjects -- including math.  We're working with fractions right now and have had some great discussions about how fractions, like myths, are small parts of a greater whole. 

We made salt clay yesterday and worked with fractions -- slicing the "pie" into half, quarters, eighths, and sixteenths, looking at equivalent fractions (two eighths is the same as one quarter, etc.) and exploring the four functions with fractions.  I gave A. some informal instruction in this last week and made a point to compare fractions to the musical notation with which she's already so familiar.  A. is keeping a Main Lesson Book and has drawn circles and pies and toyed with some simple equations (If 1/4 plus 1/4 equals 1/2, then 1/2 divided by 2 equals 1/4).  

Later, we used our salt clay to make Greek-inspired "pottery" and spent the early evening painting our creations with geometric shapes and black silhouettes (we'd planed to paint scenes from the Odyssey but quickly discovered that painting on clay is much more difficult than we'd imagined).

Every year I ponder the same questions, explore the same fears and worries --- mainly, can we do this without that formal institution called "school?"  Every year I come back to the same answer.  That answer is yes; however, it does require, as Holt explains, faith that children can and will learn on their own.  I'm working to loosen my grip a little each day -- while still encouraging self-discipline.  I think Holt said it best when he called it faith:   

"Call it a faith. This faith is that man is by nature a learning animal. Birds fly, fish swim, man thinks and learns. Therefore, we do not need to "motivate" children into learning, by wheedling, bribing, or bullying. We do not need to keep picking away at their minds to make sure they are learning. What we need to do, and all we need to do is bring as much of the world as we can into the school and the classroom; give children as much help and guidance as they need and ask for; listen respectfully when they feel like talking; and then get out of the way.  We can trust them to do the rest."

New Journeys

I've decided to start a new blog where I can explore and process the birth and death of our boy, Julien.  I'd like to invite you all to join me there.  The blog is titled Two Simple Happenings and I hope that it will be a help to anyone who has experienced loss or suffering.  

Om School isn't closing it's doors... in fact we've been hard at work all week preparing our classroom for the new year.  Getting back into a rhythm feels great.  We're practicing piano twice per day, reading two chapters per day, working with the calendar to track the moon, clouds, and temperature, and putting our heads together to choose this semester's subjects.  We've decided to step completely outside the packaged-curriculum box this year and I'm excited about the journey ahead of us.

Just Being Present

Me - 38 weeks

I've been in prenatal la-la land and absent from the blogosphere for quite some time, haven't I?  The months have flown by -- relatively discomfort free... and I'm feeling truly blessed.  

Growing a new life within me turned out to be personal business though... so my writings found their way to a good old fashioned paper journal -- one that I've dedicated to Baby Om.  Big Sister has even taken to decorating the margins and adding her own loving notes for her baby brother.  I'm not sure what it is exactly, but my reflections feel better suited for that journal than the blogging world.

Maybe it's because this pregnancy feels so deeply spiritual.  After all, I'm right at the center of the universe creating itself -- and that is both empowering and humbling.  Throughout my pregnancy I've felt more inclined to simply be present for the experience than to publicly write about it.  I also think it's because we're planning a natural home-birth.  While I am confident in our decision, I haven't felt like debating with the naysayers. 

Big Sister and Mama

So what's been happening on the school front?  For our April mindfulness until, we looked at ACCEPTANCE.  We listened to the rain and learned how our resistance to our experiences often creates more discomfort than the experience itself.  For May, the month or flowers and of mothers, we're revisiting LOVING-KINDNESS.  You can read about last year's unit here.  Loving-kindness is the unconditional love that a mother feels for her child; a friendliness and warmth that reaches out and embraces others.  It's the feeling we experience when we hold our new baby in our arms.  Cultivating loving-kindness means holding ourselves and others this way too.

We wrapped up our formal academic year the first of May and are unschooling now.  While we've loved incorporating Waldorf methods into our routine, we're both relieved to have finished the curriculum and feeling a new surge of expansion and creativity now that the weekly lessons are completed.  I hope we'll be able to hone our unschooling skills this summer and continue with that approach in fall.  Only time will tell.

Until then, I'm due May 27th.  The baby is in a great position, fully engaged, and feels like he could come any minute.  Pregnancy causes us to slow down and take inventory of our lives.  Each breath, each drop of rain, each wildflower is an opportunity to connect more deeply.  Just being present often reveals the everyday blessing that might otherwise go overlooked.  This pregnancy has certainly unveiled the abundance in my life... and I am so very grateful.

I'll try to post again soon.  Many blessings to all.

Trusting Our Inner-Wisdom

Amelie's Sunset Heart

Stepping outside of the mainstream takes courage.  Once you're there, staying there takes both a commitment to your own ideals and trust. But how do we learn to trust our inner-wisdom?  The first step is by paying attention with moment-to moment awareness.

Our decision to homeschool didn't come easy.  We had all of the same questions and doubts that everyone else has.  Can we really do this on our own?  Will she really get the best education we can provide?  How will we create positive socialization?  What about college?

Now that we're doing it, I find that those same questions still arise... but so do their answers.  We began our homeschooling journey in preschool.  A combination of disappointment with the available choices and love for learning together with our little one brought us here.  Now it's four years later and we're two and half months into first grade.  What's keeping us here?  A commitment to paying attention and trusting in the process.

I recently attended a debate for County Superintendent of Schools.  While neither candidate seemed to have the same vision for our schools that I would like to see, one of them possessed a perspective that stood in stark contrast to my own.  In support of standardized testing and basing teacher's wages on their student's performance, she said in a slick voice, "Data makes the invisible visible."  I wholeheartedly disagree. 

What makes the invisible visible is not data but relationships.  No multiple choice examinations or collection of processed figures can replace what the human heart is capable of perceiving.  We don't need more "measurable" results.  We just need to listen more closely to our children. 

If you think back to when your kids were very small, you'll probably remember all of those early milestones -- stacking blocks, sorting objects, gripping crayons, drawing circles, naming shapes and colors... first steps, first words, hopping, skipping, and jumping.  As parents, we're naturally tuned into our children and we see each of these little miracles as they unfold.  Then something happens.  They turn five and we stop trusting ourselves.  We send them off to school and forget that we - more than anyone else - are equipped to understand them. 

Our cat has a debaucherous habit of waking us up in the middle of the night by knocking over anything and everything in his reach.  Last week, he jumped up on Am's dresser and startled her awake.  I actually didn't hear a thing until she came in to tell me about it.   

"I was scared and my heart was beating really fast, mama," she said.  "So I sat up and listened to my breath... and my heart slowed down again!"

If you've been following our blog, you know that mindfulness and breath awareness are essential elements in our core curriculum.  Hearing her say those words was the sweetest little gift -- more measurable than any test result or report card.

Whether you're educating at home or just committed to engaging in your child's education, paying attention moment to moment can help you stay connected to their inner-world.  When we when bring this level of awareness to our parenting, we see the little miracles as they unfold.  Often, the little things we notice are the greatest gifts of all.  They enrich our lives with joy and help us build a strong foundation for trusting our inner-wisdom, trusting the process of parenting, and trusting that life is the best teacher.

Finding Center

When my little one started talking at eight months, I was mesmerized and quickly got on the "more-better-faster" cultural bandwagon of early childhood education. 

By the time she was one, I'd filled the bath tub with foam letters and began forming three letter words during bath-time.   At bed-time I'd read slowly while pointing to the words on the chunky cardboard pages -- emphasizing the sounds of the letters and their place on the page.  I made everything I could into a learning game, "one ladybug plus two ladybugs equals three ladybugs!"

Before she was two, I'd bought mountains of books and and turned "playing school" into a game.  I prefaced everything with it's color, "hand mommy the green ball," "I like Daddy's red shirt," "that's such a pretty brown dog."  I mentioned numbers everywhere I saw them, "look at the five-petaled flower," "see the four birds on the fence." I counted the beans on her high chair tray as she ate them, "seven beans minus one bean is six beans!"

When she learned her shapes and colors before her second birthday, I was thrilled by her capacity for learning.  By the time she was three, she was reading and our homeschool was taking form as more than a game we played.  Learning together had become our way of life.  Each new day was an adventure in learning. 

We went on like this for some time.  The more she learned, the  more work I gave her.  (In hindsight, I think this is where we went wrong.)  I bought all of the workbooks I could find and sat her down at her desk each morning with phonics and math worksheets while I made breakfast or did dishes.  Before she was five, she'd completed all the workbooks for Kindergarten and First Grade phonics and math.  Before Kindergarten was through, she'd mastered the entire Fry's 300 sight word list and was, according to an assesment tool at Hoagies, reading at a fourth grade level.

But at the same time, I couldn't help but think that this wasn't the the best path.  As Kindergarten pressed on, I began to slow down... I began to ask myself, "where does this path lead?"  What was I really trying to accomplish here?  Isn't there more to nurture in a child than their intellect?  How much stress is this causing her?  And do I really want my girl sitting at a desk filling out worksheets all of the time?  I thought back to the fun we had when she was a toddler -- learning as we went about our day... rather than sitting at a desk with her tiny fingers cramped around a pencil.  It was about this time that I really got down to reading about different methods of education and discovered the wonderful world of Waldorf.

Waldorf's hands on learning approach seemed similar to what we'd been doing in the early years.  I liked the "how" -- the method of learning -- but I wasn't sold on the "when."  (Waldorf asks us to hold off on the academics until the child is six or seven years old.)  I was certainly ready to give up the worksheets -- but I wasn't completely ready to give up on the standards.  Waldorf asks us to do just that -- to let go of our pre-formed ideas of how, what, and when our children should be learning and, at least in the early years, embrace a softer, slower pace.  In this fast paced world, how does one let their child "fall behind" their peers in school?  To answer that question, I had to take a long, hard look at the system and the standards.  I had to question why traditional schools were teaching what they were teaching and how they were teaching it.  What I found was a strange history and a barrage of voices crying out for an education revolution...

Voices like John Holt, an early proponent of homeschool who argued that children do not learn in school because they are afraid of failing... voices like John Taylor Gatto who writes, "school often acts as an obstacle to success. To go from the confinement of early childhood to the confinement of the classroom to the confinement of homework, working to amass a record entitling you to a “good” college, where the radical reduction of your spirit will continue, isn’t likely to build character or prepare you for a good life..." 

... voices like Sir Ken Robinson who argues that the absence of music, art, and dance in our institutionalized schools is educating the creativity right out of our kids... and voices like Lawrence Williams who writes, "We continue this sad charade generation after generation, crushing the boundless potential of billions of children, yet we never consider trying another approach, an approach which would permit those infinite resources to flow abundantly into the world for the healing of us all."

When I look back at these six years, I regret pushing the worksheets and putting so much emphasis on keeping ahead of the standards (without first questioning the origin of those standards).  Those were the things that caused tears, worries, and took the fun out of learning.  Those were the things that I think disrupt a child's balanced growth by forcing the intellect too soon -- and this quickly became apparent to me.  But the other things we've done (looking for organic learning opportunities in everything we do together, immersion in archetypes, mindfulness, yoga, etc.) worked.  I think it's time for all of us to re-evaluate the "more-better-faster" model of education.  We should take care not to push too hard or neglect the arts in favor of strict academic achievements.  Our pendulum needs to swing back to the middle.  

For First Grade we've gone beyond the standards, beyond the books, slowed down, and embraced childhood more fully.  We're using the Oak Meadow curriculum, keeping it fun, looking at the big picture, and giving A. every chance to express herself artistically in an environment that nurtures more than her mind.  Our first nine days have included finger-knitting a dress-up scarf and headband, wet-on-wet watercolor painting, learning Mary Had a Little Lamb on the soprano recorder, beeswax crayon drawing, an array of archetypal stories, a review of the four processes of math with a story about The Four Gnomes (named Plus, Minus, Times, and Divide), nature walks and setting up a nature table, pressing flowers, watching the moon and learning about its phases, making a September calendar for our classroom, playing memory games with the contents of our CSA Veggie Box (while learning about eating locally, organically, & seasonally), and making time for plenty of imaginative play with natural toys and playsilks.

With the Autumn Equinox taking place this year on September 23rd, our mindfulness unit this month is Equanimity (or upekkha in the Indic language of Pali).  Equanimity is the capacity for experiencing whatever is happening with composure of mind and heart.  It is the ability to resist extremes and balance gracefully in the middle-ness.  As the days become equal to the night, we are practicing becoming aware of our own dark and light moments and learning how we can experience both with equanimity.  

I hope to make time for writing more about our Equanimity Unit  soon.  In the meantime, I'm continuing to find my own center and come back to it again and again.

Autumn is Calling

We've had beautiful weather the last few days -- cool and breezy with the scent of autumn in the air.  The leaves even sound different now... more crisp and crackly as the days grow shorter and summer comes to a close.

I love this time of year.  The cooler temperatures pull me into contemplative mode.  We're starting school on Wednesday and while I'm eager to hit the books, instead we're taking it slow.  Our first week back will be a short one -- just welcoming the school year and setting up the classroom with warm colors and textures, natural materials, and symbols of the season.

I'm delighted to announce that Oak Meadow is sponsoring Om School this year.  We're using their full First Grade curriculum (check out a sample here) and I'm looking forward easing into the year with artistic projects including knitting, drawing, painting, music, and cooking.  As always, we'll integrate our studies into the natural flow of daily activities... but this year I'm less eager for A. to display her mental talents -- and more excited about giving her opportunities for expressing herself artistically.

Like a lot of parents, I accepted the idea that an early start at education was the best thing for my child.  I rushed into reading and writing thinking that stimulating her mind early on was a healthy developmental choice.  But as time went by, I began to see that just because she could grasp the phonics and early math didn't mean that she should.  In the last year, I've come to agree with the sentiments expressed by OM, "a child is more than an intellect... and it makes a great difference in a child's balanced growth if the mind is forced into development too early." 

As always, our objective is to cultivate a wise heart.  This year I'm hoping to honor that pursuit in an even more nurturing environment -- one that supports an imaginative spirit and is "closer to the heart of a child than a more intellectual approach."  I'm grateful for the support we've found on our journey and looking forward to sharing our adventures with you here.  Autumn is calling!

Om Gnomes

Five little gnomes went out one day...

... over the hills and far away.

Mother Gnome said, "Om, Om, Om, Om."

But only four little gnomes came home.

 Four little gnomes went out one day,

Over the hills and far away.

Mother Gnome said,

"Om, Om, Om, Om."

But only three little gnomes cam home.

 

Three little gnomes went out one day,

Over the hills and far away.

Mother Gnome said,

"Om, Om, Om, Om."

But only two little gnomes came home.

Two little gnomes went out one day,

 Over the hills and far away.

Mother Gnome said,

"Om, Om, Om, Om."

But only one little gnome came home.

One little gnome went out one day,

Over the hills and far away.

Mother Gnome said,

"Om, Om, Om, Om."

But no little gnomes came home.

Mother Gnome went out one day, over the hills and far away.  

Mother Gnome said, "Om, Om, Om, Om...."

... and all of Mother Gnome's gnomes came home!

Gnomes by LittleRedWhimsy on Etsy

... a little shop for little people with big imaginations!

A Wise Heart

We've been infusing our studies with the dharma since preschool.  Along with trips to Green Gulch Farm Zen Center and Spirit Rock Meditation Center we incorporate gathas, mantras, mindfulness exercises, the Eightfold path, the Brahma Viharas, and the Pāramitās into our studies.  We've worked out a pretty elaborate system over the years and it's been a real joy.  A. will be six on Thursday and she seems to truly enjoy this aspect of our home studies.  

At present, I'm writing a curriculum (based on our home studies) that follows the changing seasons and invites parents to engage in their child's inner-world.  Each month, we look at a virtue (compassion, loving-kindness, joy in others, equanimity, patience, generosity, wisdom, etc) and explore how nature is the best teacher.  I thought I'd share a bit of our routine here for all of you who are considering homeschooling or wondering how to incorporate your spiritual path into your daily schedule.

We start each day by lighting a candle and making an offering of incense in the kitchen. Then we listen to mantras and cook together.  A. sets the table and we eat quietly to set a focused tone for the school-day.  She either draws or plays while I clean up -- but not with anything noisy, digital, or electric.  I encourage stillness in the morning and have found that the less riled up she is before we start our day, the better.

Next it's Circle Time.  We sit on our zafus facing one another in the classroom and start our day with this gatha:

We are the leaves of one tree

We are the waves of one sea

The time has come for us to live as one

After the morning verse, I say a cheery little prayer such as, "Mother Nature, Universe, gods and goddesses, buddhas and bodhisatvas, ancestors, and fairies -- we're calling on all of the energies of the earth to be present in our classroom today... help our hearts grow wise so that we may know peace within and create peace here on the earth.  Blessed be, so be it, and let it be so!"

Then I say, "let us enjoy breathing together," ring our little gong, and we sit for a few breaths to focus and really arrive in the classroom.  I encourage A. to listen to all of the sounds, feel her breath in her nostrils, and notice all of her feelings.   Sometimes we'll lay on our backs with stones on our bellies and watch the stones rise and fall with our breath.  Other mornings, I ask her to listen to the gong and raise her hand when the sound has completely vanished.

Next, I invite A. to go to her "Creative Infinity"  -- the creative center of our being where the universe comes from.  Here, we look for a virtue in the form of an animal totem to "bring back" to the classroom and keep with us all day.  Some of A.'s favorites are the Cheetah of Loving-kindness and the Deer of Compassion.

After Creative Infinity comes Sharing Time.  We pass a basket of sticks and stones between us - each selecting one as a "talking stick" or a "stillness stone."  I invite A. to share anything she wants -- a difficult feeling, a story, or a favorite toy.  I usually share the calender and then use the rest of my share to introduce, review, or expand on a dharma or mindfulness unit.

Then it's time for the Main Lesson.  For Kindergarten we alternated between Language Arts and Math and I usually used an archetypal story to introduce new letters, words, phonics, numbers, or math concepts (i.e. King Plus and Queen Minus).  After drawing the story in her Main Lesson Book, singing the spelling of new words, or marching out the math facts, it's time for a little movement.

One of our favorites is a chant that we've added asanas (yoga poses) to:

Earth my body (mountain pose)

Water my blood (five pointed star pose)

Air my breath (standing prayer/pranam)

And fire my spirit (clap hands and wave them above your head)

Then it's lunch time.  While I prepare our food, she has playtime inside.  We usually set the table and recently started a new ritual of setting our food down by the kitchen alter for blessings before we eat (that's Saraswati, the goddess of creativity and learning, in the picture frame).  

Here's a great little gatha to make lunch more mindful:

Earth who gives to us this food

Sun who makes it ripe and good

Dear Earth, dear Sun

By you we live,

Our loving thanks

To you we give.

After lunch it's outside time.  I try to incorporate some Earth Science into our outside time but sometimes A. just plays.  After an hour or so, it's back in for an afternoon lesson.  I use this time for art, music, dance, yoga, science, or social studies. We alternate through these subjects throughout the week and I'm always amazed at how they integrate so naturally with the morning lesson.

We end each school day with a verse that I found in the Oak Meadow Kindergarten Syllabus.  I've expanded it and added yoga poses:

I can be as small as a small, small seed (child's pose)

I can be as tall as a tall, tall tree (tree pose)

As strong as a mountain (mountain pose)

As brave as can be (warrior III)

Because I'm a Goddess (goddess pose)

Can't you see!

One of the greatest things about educating at home is making it personal.  Incorporating our spiritual path into our studies with gathas, mantras, and mindfulness exercises has helped us strengthen our connection with one another (and with the earth) and deepened our awareness about the larger context from which our lives emerge.  What's more, this holistic method of incorporating core subjects with our spiritual path sets a framework for keeping our minds and hearts integrated.  I believe this is a path to cultivating more than intellect... it is a path to a wise heart.  

The Art of Non-Doing

Sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves and for those we love is put down the to-do list and let go a little.  For many of us, the results-driven world makes that a difficult task.  One place I can usually cultivate a little mindful non-doing is in the tub.  The bubbles, the warmth, the calm of the water all have a way of restoring balance.  Yesterday's art project taught me that we don't even need to get our whole body in the tub to reap the benefits.  

We began with an afternoon walk and collected stones that were round, semi-flat, and stacked easily.  We brought the stones home, washed them, and then I filled the tub with warm, soapy water.  The girls wrapped their stones tightly with wool, then dipped them in the bubbly tub.  When wet, the wool shrinks around the stones.  The process of dipping, squeezing, and swirling the wool-covered stones in warm soapy water might calm even the most cantankerous kid.  It didn't take long before the girls were immersed fully in the moment.  Anything can be an exercise in mindfulness.  

We started with solid colors.  Then we went back and added little wisps of additional color.  I reminded the girls that this project was about the process more than it was about the end result.  As they worked, they learned that they couldn't force the wool to take the shape they wanted nor could they try to create too specific a design with the colors.  The best results came from letting go and allowing the result to manifest in its own time.  This is the art of non-doing.  When we let go of our attachment to the results, we are free to enjoy the process.

As Jon Kabat-Zinn writes in, Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life, "Non-doing doesn't have to be threatening to people who feel they always have to get things done.  They might find they get even more "done," and done better, by practicing non-doing."  

Too often, we sacrifice the joy of this moment for some distant objective.  We are already half way into the next moment before this moment ends.  Yet, enjoying our life requires that we are present for it.  Our striving, our constant doing, stands between us and our joy.  Non-doing may be a lost art in today's world; nevertheless, it's an art this home-educator intends to keep in the classroom.

Lovebugs of Compassion

Today was the first day of our summer home school co-op.  Our July mindfulness unit is compassion and we kicked off our studies with a discussion about what the word means.  The girls did a great job naming examples. They said:
 
Understanding
Loving speech
Caring
Feeling other people’s feelings
Comforting others when they are sad
Empathy
A soft heart
Saying Namaste!

After circle time, I read the story of Kuan Yin from The Lady of Ten Thousand Names: Goddess Stories from Many Cultures retold by Burleigh Muten.  Kuan Yin is the goddess of compassion and her name means, "She Who Hears the Cries of the World."   

In this telling of her story, Kuan Yin starts her life as a princess who wants nothing more than to spend her days praying for the sick and nursing underfed animals back to health.  When she chooses a life in a nunnery over her father's wish for her to marry, her father burns the nunnery to the ground.  When she escapes the fire, he orders her execution.  The princess wakes from the sleep of death in the land of the gods where she earns her name, "She Who Hears the Cries of the World" by looking down to Earth and assisting those in trouble.


One day, she hears the cries of her own father and, despite his treatment of her, she goes to his rescue.  Because her heart was full of nothing but pure love, she is able to heal the king of his malady by sacrificing herself.  The Earth trembles, rainbow-colored clouds gather over the palace, the scent of lotus blossoms fill the air, and flowers rain down on Earth.  Kuan Yin rises into the sky like the round golden moon, spreading her glowing light all over the Earth.  From that day forward, the king shared his wealth with the kingdom, no one ever went hungry, and healers were always available for the sick.


The girls took picture notes while I read the story.  We talked about practicing to have a heart that holds nothing but love and how letting go of anger softens our heart and brings peace into the world.  Then they shared their pictures and answered a few listening comprehension questions.


Next it was time for a little movement.  The girls declared themselves "love bugs of compassion" and proceeded to buzz around the house giggling.  After a little silliness, it was time for some yoga.  With gratitude for her life-giving energies, we giggled our way through a few rounds of sun salutations.


For the last part of our day, we put our compassion into action with a little community service project that I'm organizing through Children Creating Change.   I'm connecting kids with nursing home pen pals at the local home where A. gives piano recitals twice per year.  The girls know that they may never get a letter in return but they're sending pictures and notes to bring a little cheer into the lives of some special grandmas.  If your child would like to adopt a grandma or grandpa, please post a comment below and I'll happily facilitate the connection.

The girls just finished eating fresh raspberries from our favorite local farm... and were convinced this one was a heart-shaped raspberry of compassion.  Now they're back in the classroom giggling and coloring.  Their little squeals remind me that compassion comes in many colors and is as essential as knowledge.  The Dalai Lama once said, “Each of us in our own way can try to spread compassion into people’s hearts. Western civilizations these days place great importance on filling the human 'brain' with knowledge, but no one seems to care about filling the human 'heart' with compassion."  I couldn't agree more and look forward to nurturing a little more compassion with these lovebugs this summer.

Life is the Best Teacher

Inn at Schoolhouse Creek, Mendocino, CA

Summer always reminds me that life is the best teacher.  During the school year our minds lean towards learning through books and curriculum.  We focus on all of the things we are "supposed" to know; on achieving the prescribed academic and developmental milestones.  In summer, as poet William Carlos Williams wrote, "the songs sings itself."

I love this time for letting go and organic learning.  When we listen to our life, we see that it is the best teacher.  Summer is the perfect time for slowing down and cultivating this mindfulness.  With our kids out of school, we have an opportunity to learn from them, to cultivate more closeness with them, and to focus on matters of the heart more than report cards and test scores. At the same time, it's easy to feel overwhelmed by this change in the rhythm of our lives and sometimes September, when they go back to school, can feel like a relief. 

How do you cultivate closeness with your kids during summer?  Have you taken a camping trip lately?  Have you been to the beach or the lake?  Are you noticing the little things (like bugs and butterflies and how the leaves have all grown dark green and full since spring?)  Have you found the transition into summer difficult?  How do you manage this change in your schedule?

How can we use summer to help life be the best teacher?  I'd love to hear from you, mamas.  All replies are welcome!

[Originally posted in my new group for moms, Everyday Mindfulness: Raising Conscious and Compassionate Kids.]

Summer's Song

Outside the wildflowers of spring have dropped away into the golden hills of summer.  Leaves have grown full, gardens have grown abundant, and the busy-ness of spring has faded into summer's slow song.  American poet William Carlos Williams wrote, "In summer, the song sings itself."

The Summer Solstice came and went and now, after reaching her full strength, the sun is journeying away from us again.  Like the outside world, our inner world also moves in seasons rising and falling, growing and fading, always transforming and becoming.  This season of warmth and rest is a time for recognizing completions; for laying down what we've finished or what no longer serves us.  Here at Om School, we've said goodbye to Kindergarten and are relaxing into the next step of our journey.

We finished the year with Y for yogini and Z for Zigongosaurus, a genus of sauropod dinosaur from the Middle-Late Jurassic age of Zigong, China.  While the learning never stops, we've also laid down my formal lesson plans for summer and have been enjoying unstructured learning.  Our schedule includes a new adventure with our meditation center, Spirit Rock, where the children's sangha has just begun.  Last week, A. enjoyed making new friends in the K-6 class and I enjoyed the adult sitting group and Jack Kornfield's dharma talk,  Turning of the Seasons.

For our June mindfulness unit, Summer's Song, we relaxed into the turning of the seasons; listened to nature as she slowed down; and let go of things we'd completed.  As summer continues, we'll bring conscious attention to the smells and tastes that are so different now than the rest of the year.  We'll listen to the cicadas and notice how white clouds dot the bright blue sky.  We'll keep a science journal of native birds, read books, and make lemonade.  We'll watch the sun set and smile as she dips behind the mountain.  Most of all, we'll listen as summer sings her song.

What are you doing to connect with your kids this summer?  What are you doing to connect with nature?  I'd love to hear your plans and ideas...

Wisdom Teachings in the Internet Age

The first ever Wisdom 2.0 conference, held April 30th-May 2nd in Silicon Valley, brought together staff from Google, Twitter, Facebook and other technology companies, along with Zen teachers and neuroscientists to explore living with wisdom in our technology age.

The list of speakers is here.  Be sure to sign up for their e-newsletter, join their Facebook page, or follow them on Twitter to learn about more Wisdom 2.0 events.

In this thought provoking panel discussion, Malika Chopra (Intent.com), Alana Kornfeld (Huffington Post Living), Susan Kaiser Greenland (The Mindful Child and Mindfulness Together), Mary Ann Brusset (Spirituality & Practice.com), and moderator by Tami Simon (Sounds True) discuss how can we use the tools that are now available to us in the twenty-first century for maximum raising of consciousness and responsible dissemination of the wisdom teachings.

It's well worth the hour to watch through the end where the panel discusses the challenges and opportunities that online communities face in creating meaningful experiences and how the wisdom and light discovered online might translate into our three-dimensional lives.

Education Revolution

"In this poignant, funny follow-up to his fabled 2006 talk, Sir Ken Robinson makes the case for a radical shift from standardized schools to personalized learning -- creating conditions where kids' natural talents can flourish."

As a home-educator, Sir Ken Robinson's words resonate with me deeply. "It's about creating a movement in education in which people develop their own solutions but with external support based on a personalized curriculum." I couldn't agree more and I'm grateful for the resources available today such as Oak Meadow and Mindfulness Together.

Factory-model education overlooks the importance of nurturing a child's talents. I believe it's up to the parents to become engaged in their child's education and demand more from their schools. What's more, when we learn to honor education as a process and not a means to an end, we give our children the gift of living in the present moment. It is only here, in this moment, that our lives really take place.