When I was twenty, I experienced a class would changing my thinking about learning.
It was the last day of the semester in the philosophy of biology course, and the professor stood in front of the class, extolling the benefits of meditation.
To the casual observer, meditation might not seem remotely related to plant morphology, but to Rolf Sattler, there was a connection.
A world-renowned botanist, he had focused for the last couple of decades of his career on the relationship between western science and nature and ecology, and on how alternative lenses like process philosophy, systems theory, and taoism affected our experience and relationship with the natural world.
That day, Rolf walked back and forth at the front of the room, swinging a string of small wooden balls against his back. “They help me to relax before I meditate,” he explained.
It was the early 90s at McGill University in Montreal. Though I had had a little experience with yoga, meditating in a classroom of mostly science students facing an overhead projector was, I think, new to all of us.
He explained that we would soon close our eyes and start the meditation by chanting “om.” We didn’t have to start all at once, just when we felt like joining in.
Rolf started:
“Ommmm….”
Then a couple of others joined. Soon a cacophony of oms.
Oh no, I thought, my eyes closed, people are actually doing this.
I was off to the side near the door, next to Jennifer. I didn’t know her, but I remember her name because of what happened next.
One of us started to chant, and the other soon followed: our own little choir section off to the side.
At first our “oms” were about 5 seconds apart, but as we continued they slowly grew closer together, until it happened. We ommed in perfect unison — and immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Why?!” a voice in my head pleaded operatically. “In front of him of all people?!” (Rolf really was one of my favorite professors.)
Faking it vs. Making Art
As I lost control, I could feel the gap between who I wished to be (a respectful student, a Canadian) and who I really was (neither of those things) widening by the second. And of course, the more I tried to bridge the gap, the worse it became.
We may not always go into conspicuous giggle fits in front of our mentors, but most of us have encountered that gap between how we think we’re supposed to act and how we really feel.
And when it happens, we’re often forced to pretend the gap isn’t there — that we are what we’re pretending to be. To fake it.
Sometimes, to show up and get things done, the only way to push through really is to “fake it till we make it.”
But in the last few posts, I’ve been talking about how in our creative process, that gap between what is actually happening and what we wish for often leads to anxiety and blocks, getting in the way of what we really wanted to say in the first place.
“Faking it till you make it” just doesn’t work when we’re making art.
And it doesn’t really work in deep neuroplastic approaches to learning and creativity.
In Sense Writing, we learn how to meet ourselves exactly where we are, not where we’re pretending to be. And in this state of parasympathetic-dominant engagement, we build a practice that’s able to sustain us through the beginnings, middles and ends of whatever we want to write.
End of Story
Rolf stopped chanting. Still doubled over trying to stifle my laughter, I slowly peeked up and saw one of his arms swinging up towards the ceiling.
“Laugh! LAUGH!,” he invited, a big smile on his face.
And we did. All forty of us erupting, spontaneously, some in tears, sliding off our chairs onto the floor, until it slowly subsided and we were silent. Later, he spoke about the benefits of laughter meditation.
That day, Rolf met us exactly where we were and let us learn from there.
He was teaching us how to learn.
In the next post, I’ll share a remarkable Feldenkrais sequence that allows you to find freedom, ease, and grace from wherever you are. Look for it in your inbox.
And in the meantime, I invite you to think of ways you can meet yourself where you are at this moment.
