Don't pack your worries, pack your trust

We were in the car this morning, on our way to my parents' house for the ceremony to be done at the  end of the first month after my father's passing. Raghav usually wakes up very late in the morning and today I had to wake him up much earlier than usual. He was a bit grumpy about that and took time to get ready.

Since we had no time to talk about the menu for the day and so on, I had already made his lunch, which I thought I would take with us, so he could have it there if he wanted to. But when I asked him, he said that he would come back home earlier than he had the last time and eat lunch at home. So he did not want me to pack anything for him. Well I, anticipating trouble and a possible meltdown as it usually happened when his routine got disrupted and when he couldn't pay attention to his body, decided to pack a few snacks and his lunch anyway. As we were leaving the house, he asked me why I was doing that, as he had already told me his plan. I was in a rush to leave and so brushed it aside saying that it would not do us any harm to just carry a few things along anyway.....'just in case'!

While in the car, he asked me again as to why I had packed food for him. And for the first time, I was able to share with him all the thoughts that were going on inside me honestly and minutely. I realised as I was speaking to him, that I had not packed food for him...I had packed my worries. Here is what I told him:
"I know you told me not to pack anything, but I was worried and anxious as to what might happen later if you suddenly felt hungry....often you have jumped and screamed and asked for things to be made and given in an instant, or been particular about what you wanted to eat, refusing to eat what was available. So I thought that it was better to be prepared for that, as I was scared that I would not be able to handle that if it happened."

R: "But I already told you that I didn't need anything no? I understand that I can't have that even if I want it...."

Me: "Yes, right now you understand. But at that moment when you are so hungry, you might not be in a position to understand no? Or your understanding might change.....or you might change your mind."

R: "But I was prepared for that."

Me: "So are you telling me that I didn't trust you and that I should trust you when you say that and not pack anything for you when you don't want me to?"

R: "Yes."

I realised then that what I had packed was not food but my worries and my fears....and here he was asking me to pack trust! I was filled with the anxiety and fear of how I might not have control over something that could happen, and that fear was stopping me from experiencing what Life was perhaps bringing me, fully...it was stopping me from experiencing a lightness, joy and ease.

And like it usually happens with him, the end is never an ideal fairy-tale end to another beautiful story....the kind that most people (like me) would anticipate. It was an end that was the beginning of yet another mystery in some ways....for he did change his mind when we got there, and had the lunch that I had packed! :)

Looking back now, yes, I had made a choice based on a pattern that was already sitting inside me....a choice which brought up a fear....but it was also a choice that brought me back to look at another part of myself....because I chose to look at it as I chose to listen to my son and feel a 'rightness' in what he was sharing or bringing up. Yes, I always have a choice as to what I want to look at in a given moment. But do I want to see that? Would I ever come to know which choice would have been right or wrong? Does that even matter really? Or does it matter only that I am open to seeing more....more of myself?

And maybe that is what trust is about....
It is what emerges when I make a choice-less choice in the moment...when I go out ready to be molded and shaped by life.

Minecraft, Trust and Friendship

It is funny and strange how some conversations have their seed in the past and in the future. Much like a dandelion....some conversations start in one place and their many seeds are carried over and across to so many spaces and interactions over time....and it is beautiful to see the pattern, the flow and the journey those seeds take. This was one such conversation....

Yesterday, Raghav expressed a desire to play Minecraft with friends. I was suggesting that he go online and play, as none of his friends here were into Minecraft.

"But I have to have seen or know the person I play with. I cannot play with someone I don't know," he said quite emphatically.

And so he wanted us (my husband and me) to play with him. I agreed to try if he taught me, and also asked if he would like me to ask my friend's son who he had met here and played Minecraft with a few months ago. He was immediately all excited. So I sat and wrote to her, sharing his request.

"But why do you feel that you cannot play with someone you don't know?", I prodded on.
"Because I don't trust them. I cannot play with someone I don't trust....someone whose identity I don't know," he added. And we left it at that.

Later at night, I was telling Raghav how I was going to be in another room, talking to my friend on skype. "Who is that? Is it ***?", he asked. I smiled and said 'yes'.
"But how do you talk to *** when you haven't even seen *** before?", he asked quite surprised.
"I don't know...but I like talking to *** and *** is my friend," I said.
Strangely, my friend and I also ended up talking about trust in our conversation although the conversations flowed from elsewhere! :)

This morning, I broached the same topics again with him.
"Yesterday, you were talking about trust....how you can't trust someone you haven't met or don't know....so what does trust mean to you? What does it make you feel inside?", I asked.
With a little more prodding and some choices, he was able to tell me how with some people that he trusted, he was relaxed, comfortable and happy, and how with some others he felt anxious. And then, he came up with this...

"Both people have to feel the same way about trust, for them to trust each other," he said.

"Like I trust you and appa and Joel and Sadie and thatha and patti....and I feel that with the three of us, we feel the same way about trust.....do you think you and appa feel the same way about trust, the way I do?", he asked.

"....I think you do....but with my friends and thatha and patti, I am not sure they feel the same way about trust like I do.....so if I were to play Minecraft with you or appa, and you kill me, then the next time, I would still play the same thing with you again......but with anyone else, even if I trust them, if they kill me in Minecraft, I cannot and will not play that again with them....but I may play something else. So I trust them for some things, but not other things," he added.

"Yes....I understand....so you feel that you can trust appa and me for everything and that we three feel the same way about trust....yes, and  that is how I feel with this friend of mine too....I trust *** for everything. Trust is something that I just know and feel inside," I said.

What a beautiful conversation that was....much like a piece of embroidery, being woven slowly with magic and wonder and a lot of heart. Yes, trust is the basis of any relationship....the foundation....on which everything else gets created. Trust is like a stick-it note - it just is or happens in the very first moment of the interaction...and once it is peeled off or removed, it will not stick on easily again.

Explaining Unschooling

Yesterday, we were at my dad's place for lunch as he had a friend and co-activist from the UK, over for lunch. He was a warm old man with lots of endearing stories about his family and grandchildren. Amongst many other things that ranged from government policies to activism to social boycott to corruption, we also discussed unschooling. Because he was fascinated by what we were doing with our son.

We had almost the usual barrage of questions, with the only difference this time being a keen interest on his part (unlike many others we have faced) to understand what it was that we were doing and how. Here are some:

So do you follow a currciulum?

You must have a hard time being at home and taking care of all of your son's learning?
What about pushing him to learn things that he does not like learning? Don't you see a need to do that?

There is just so much out there in the world in terms of knowledge. It is impossible I agree to give him a taste of everything. But what about learning things that he needs to know if he has to get into the real world?

What about physical fitness and sport? Do you do anything to encourage and actively engage him in something like that?

What about getting into university or pursuing higher education? Would he not be required to sit for exams then? Will they accept him without his taking exams or without certificates? What about subjects like calculus? Subjects that you may not be able to teach him?

I loved the questions! Not only for being questions, but because the space that they were offered in, opened up and cleared up so many things. Life has a knack of being efficient - getting so many things done with minimal effort! For one, we have not sat down and answered questions that were perhaps simmering inside my parents' hearts. We have shared our points of view and beliefs in passing as and when some queries came up, but not in this way. Perhaps the need did not arise. Perhaps it was not the right moment for that. I don't know.

Both my husband and I believe that time is a great healer, and so many a time, when we have had arguments or misunderstandings amongst ourselves or with others in the family, we have just laid things to rest. And they have been sorted out on their own, with time, after the in-the-moment outbursts. It has often worked well for us. So even with explaining our decision to homeschool our son, we just informed our parents, briefly explained why and left it at that. We never felt a need to defend our decision or clarify things, unless we were asked to explain something by them. And so this moment today, came after many years into our journey into homeschooling.

We sat down and shared our points of view with him and what we believed in. For once, it felt so so good to have my husband speak up and share about our journey from his heart, while I added my tidbits when I felt drawn to do that. It was freeing to just sit back and listen and watch in silence for most of the time.

Although his questions were addressed and answered like we usually do, I realised that the mojo of unschooling or the living and learning journey is TRUST and SURRENDER - both of which are so hard to get across to someone who speaks from their mind-space. How does one tell and make another understand how to trust their children and life and yet live in this 'real' world? How does one 'show' people how unschooling works - because there is really nothing to 'show', and most of the time we are not 'doing' anything? If someone were to come and spend a day with us, it would surely seem like we actually do nothing! Almost all our learning happens through simple conversations, or in the silent pauses, in meltdowns and heartaches, and the simple nondescript ordinariness of everyday moments, flowing seamlessly into each other. That is where the inspiration is.

And this trust and surrender to each moment is the hardest part of the process and journey to transfer or transmit to another....quite impossible. And yet, I feel that this is the essence.

A Nano Lesson on Trust

Raghav had just finished eating his breakfast of dosas with the spicy 'idli powder' that he so loves. I  was in the kitchen, when I heard a call -
"Amma, come quick.....you need to guide me to the bathroom!"

I popped out of the kitchen to see what had happened, and saw him squinting, closing both eyes and his hands outstretched.
"What happened? Did you put your hands in your eyes?", I asked.
"Yes...I forgot that I hadn't washed my hands," he whimpered. "Please...you have to take my hands and guide me to the bathroom so I can wash my eyes."

I smiled, took his hand, led him to the bathroom, and helped him wash his eyes out.

While he was wiping them after, we spoke a little more about how he felt.

"So how was it to be 'blind' for a little while?", I asked.
"I was scared I would bump into things....I had to feel around with one hand.....and I also had to trust you.....that you would take care," he said as he ran off to continue watching his DVD....

And I drifted off into thoughts down memory lane....when we carefully thought out ideas for helping people experience how it felt to be disabled....trust is such an important part of any interaction.....and I reminisced fondly about walking along everywhere with my friend who was blind ....hand-in-hand.... the ease with which we moved, almost like one body.....there was hardly any need for words to guide...it was a whole body experience....a dance.....where I would lead sometimes with a squeeze, a brush or a gentle, flowing movement of my hand, and she would lead at other times with a faint pull or a pause or a different manner of touching....it was a beautiful way to be....

Trust is the silence between notes that threads them into a song.
Trust is the space between steps that weaves them into a dance.

Trust

Just yesterday I wrote something about trusting children and life, and today Life decides to give me a test on that! Much like a surprise test that teachers throw on us at school :)

I had gone down to meet a friend who was visiting and in my other friend's house, a few floors below where I live. Raghav decided to stay home on his own, as he has been doing quite often these past few months. I have stopped giving instructions to Raghav every time I leave the house when he is alone.

He doesn't know my mobile number or anyone else's by heart, but he knows where my friend lives. There is a sheet near the phone where I have listed out all the important numbers, which he knows about, but has never used. There has not been a need to do that. Nor have I felt a need to simulate a situation like that. So I really don't know how he would react in an emergency and what he would actually do. I don't know if he would be able to handle that. But I know that he will be taken care of by life. I know that that is all I can do - inform him about some of the choices he has. The rest is up to him. This shift happened recently when he on his own expressed a desire to be home by himself, while I did short, quick errands. And I knew that because it came from him, he probably knows what he can do and handle, much better than I would ever know about him.

This afternoon, while I was catching up with my friends on old times - I was meeting one of them after many many years - I lost all track of time. We were busy chatting away and suddenly the doorbell rang. Raghav was at the door! He told me how he thought I was taking longer than usual, and that he wanted to come and call me. He said that he had taken the stairs instead of the lift, because he felt safer doing that. This was the first time he was doing something like this. It was a huge moment for me.

He then got impatient waiting for us to finish talking and decided that he wanted to go home and bring his iPad along. I was wondering what to do, because I had only one key. For a few moments, I felt fear.....a fear of what would happen if I gave him the key and he forgot to bring it back when he stepped out again.....we would not be able to get back into the house then! I realised that the fear was that I could not trust him with the key. I was scared that he would be lost in his thoughts or world and just put it in the keys basket, like he usually does, out of habit, and not pick them up before leaving home again. I was scared that he would just forget about the keys. Once I touched this fear, the solution popped up on its own. I asked him if he had a pocket in his shorts where he could put the keys into, as soon as he opened the door. He looked, smiled and said yes, putting the keys in. I reminded him again as he stepped out of my friend's house, to put the keys in his pocket, with a little more confidence that whispered to me: "We will see what to do if that does not happen. Don't worry."

A few minutes later, Raghav was back with his iPad. I was relieved that he had brought the keys with him, while he very matter-of-factly said: "yeah...the keys are in my pocket," and plonked himself on the sofa, immersed in his racing game.

I realised that even when I did not quite trust him, myself and life in those few moments, I actually had no choice but to trust. Yes, I could have put my foot down and asked him to wait till I could go with him. But I  could not do that. Because deep down, I knew that this whole thing was about me and my being aware of my thoughts and my fears. It was something I had to allow to happen. For myself. For my son.

There is just no way we can be completely 'prepared' for emergencies, because no matter what you do to be prepared, it all depends on THAT moment and what you think, feel and do in the moment. In spite of all the talking and preparation, my son could have still forgotten the keys at home, or dropped them somewhere. How can I ever hope to prepare him for that?

It was a good experience for me today to reflect on my fears and my levels of trust. I love how Life gives me these surprise tests :) Life is my resident teacher, my friend and my guide.

You cannot prepare yourself for Life. 
You just have no choice but to trust it and live it. 
Completely.

Do children learn what they live?

My grandmother was in town and I really wanted her to come and spend some time with us at home. She is 92 and in many ways I feel grateful to both my grandmothers for taking care of me perhaps when I really needed that the most. My father's mother was with me through my growing years and until my late teens, while my mother's mother took care of me up to the end of my first year, besides our numerous summer holidays in Bangalore. I felt that it was my turn now to do my little bit for her. But I had to ask Raghav, as that is what we usually do. We consider him as an individual in our house and family, with his own views on things and people. He is also a person who likes to be prepared for changes in routine or sharing of space at home. We have respected that all along, and we did the same this time too.

I was telling Raghav how my grandmother had taken care of me when my parents had left me for a month with her, when I was five months old and they had to go to Australia. I shared with him stories of how she had brought up nine children of her own, and how they also took care of me. I also shared how important is was for me to have her home with us for a few days atleast this time. He seemed to understand. In fact, he said he would love to have her and listen to those stories from her. She was special to him. I knew that from the way he spoke. I remembered fondly how she came all the way to be with him as a newborn baby, giving him an oil massage, bathing him, cooking for him, changing him, talking to him and rocking him to sleep with a pillow on her legs. Perhaps there was some kind of connection that he felt with her, for she is one of the very few who are privileged to hug and kiss him at will. I was happy that he understood. I spoke to her, and she agreed to come the following day.

Meanwhile, Raghav was on a building marathon. He had announced to us that he was going to build a farm today and set off. While I was busy in the kitchen, he kept coming to me with different things that  he had built, one after the other. There was a barn, a tree house, fields, a stable, a pig sty, a sheep pen, a farm shop, a compost bin, a tractor with trailer, a combine harvester, a cow shed and more! After building all this, he wanted to set it up in a space that wouldn't be disturbed and play with it. Since the best place for that was his own room, we decided to set it up there and cleaned and made the space for it. Raghav was very happy and we played our usual pretend game, making up dialogues for each person, weaving in a story et al.

Later, he wanted to get building other things again, but was frustrated that he couldn't use the whole room, as it was full of the things for the farm. He couldn't access his drawers and bricks, and also did not want to move the farm anywhere else, as he felt they would not fit in any other space. After a lot of back and forth, bouts of crying and the pain of not understanding how the same space could be created in another place, he finally agreed to give my idea of moving all of it to the guest bedroom, a try. I had to measure the floor area to show him that the space he had used in this room was possible to create in the other one as well. He finally understood. So I drew a map of the farm - where he had placed what, and we moved it all to the top of the guest bed. Raghav painstakingly set it all up to the last detail, according to the map, even pointing out an error on my part of not drawing one thing to scale!

A little later, I got a call from my mother, to say that she would bring my grandmother that evening, to stay with us overnight, until the following evening. I did not know whether to smile or cry. She was supposed to come only the following day, and Raghav had just set up everything to play. I expected a meltdown from Raghav. After all that measuring and setting up of the farm, so that it wouldn't be disturbed, now it would have to be disturbed as my grandmother would need the bed. There was no other space she could sleep in. I did not know what to do. I did not want to disappoint Raghav; and nor did I want to say no to my grandmother. I stayed with my feelings for a while, but started getting anxious. "How could I tell them that she could not come because Raghav needed that space for his Lego?" "How can I tell Raghav that she was more important than his Lego?" Both were important to me. I wanted to respect both. And yet I feared Raghav's reaction.

I called up my husband who was travelling on work. I was in for another surprise. For the first time,
he probably empathised with Raghav instantly :). He told me that I should call my mother and tell them that they could not come today, but could perhaps come the following week to stay. While I was relieved and happy about this new connection he had made, I still could not get down to saying that to my grandmother, who I had invited. I said okay and hung up.

I guess my heart knew that my son was ready to understand and respect another's feelings. I did not think anymore. I just walked up to him and told him what I felt and what had happened. He teared up a bit, but agreed to move all his stuff back to his room and not play with it the way he wanted to, until my grandmother had left. There was no long-drawn explanation needed from me. There was no meltdown like I had feared. He had simply understood. I was relieved and happy that I had followed my heart. It has not let me down till today.

We carried everything back to his room from the bed, and set it up in a corner, so he could access his other Lego bricks too. Everything had worked out peacefully and beautifully. I realised how the Universe had choreographed this so beautifully for all of us. I am grateful for that.

I also realised today that my trust in my child has deepened, and so had his. I believe that when children have been given the respect that is due to them, they will understand and show respect to others. When they have been given the space they need, they will make or create the space that others need. When they have been listened to, they will learn to listen to others.

Many years ago, I had learned this from a little group of children in a sacred little space (not school) called Bhavya, in Bangalore, which we had gone to visit. That was one of the first few spaces where Raghav was comfortable instantly, and did not even need me. I believe that there are some spaces where he perhaps feels and senses the vibes and energies of people and feels drawn to be himself and explore. I want to share an excerpt from a blog post that I wrote earlier about our experience in Bhavya, that first opened my eyes to empathy, respect and trust and what they really mean. I realised then what extent kids can go to, to listen deeply, trust and show respect to another human being - even someone who they had never met before. Can we as adults even come close to that, I wonder?

Some of the kids were playing in the sand pit and Raghav wanted a spade and a bucket that they had, to play by himself. He just went up to them and asked without any hesitation whatsoever - something that he rarely does! I am usually asked to be his voice or mouthpiece - a role that I am quite used to now. One of them asked him to wait till he finished, while another handed one of the things over to him immediately. Raghav then dug a bit in the sand pit, imagining that he was cooking something, while some of the kids watched, and then wanted to move to another sandy area near the pit. Sensing that, my friend told him that the sand in the sand pit was cleaner and different from the other sand, and the other kids around asked him to be careful not to mix up the sand from the two areas. That was my first learning point from the kids - that little things that we might not really give much thought to, are SO important to them.

After Raghav had finished his cooking and wanted to go on and explore other things, he was walking around with the bucket and spade in hand, saying that he wanted to keep it in a safe place, where no one would disturb it. He tried putting it down in different places, and at every spot, the kids told him how that place might not be so safe as it was in the way of kids running or walking around. They also said that others may not know when they see that bucket and spade, that it was something that he had made and might take it away or destroy it unknowingly. Finally, my friend's son, who was much older than the others, offered to make a sign board that said "DO NOT DISTURB THIS" and stick it into the bucket of sand; he also suggested that the bucket be kept under the slide as kids usually would go only on the slide. Raghav was finally satisfied with these suggestions, kept his creation under the slide with the sign in it, and went away content, with faith that his creation was finally in a safe place.

The extent to which each of them went to understand how precious that creation was to my son, moved and touched me so deeply, that even today it brings tears to my eyes. And they did not know my son - that was the first time they were seeing him, and the first time he was seeing them. Yet, there was a huge effort to understand and interact with trust and empathy, spontaneously, without any adult intervention or facilitation.

So then, do children really learn what they live? What do you think?