mental meanderings - you got me going Julie (long)

[Harrison Owen]

At 12:55 AM 10/31/2002 -0400, Chris wrote:
>What I am learning from working primarily with children is that, while
>they use words beautifully when it is called for, they would rather be
>climbing, or painting, or walking barefoot in the woods.  (They don't have
>any difficulty with Julie's question of Ralph, "So how do we get back in
>harmony with the natural order?"  They just do it.)  So perhaps another of
>the beliefs of schooling that we do well to abandon is that language is
>primary, more important than other realms of experience.

For sure, children are not unique in the need/desire to go non-verbal.
Several years ago, a friend opened space for The Community Art Councils of
The USA. It was a three day affair with representation from all over the
country. The folks involved were concerned with the effective interface
between The Arts and The Community. Professionally, they were not only
program directors but artists of all sorts. When it came to posting issues,
many were danced, sung or drawn. And the was just the beginning. The full
expressive powers of human kind were in evidence at all points, and when it
came time for The Closing it all became an incredible melange of sight,
sound, and touch. Oh yes, there were some words too.
>  So what would Open Space and self-organization look and feel like if we
> followed the childrens' lead and recognized the dominance of words as our
> prison, and swung wide the door, and walked out?

I don't think words are our prison, unless we make them so -- which is what
happens when it is assumed, or decreed, that words are the only way to
communicate. Obviously this is not so -- and one of the things I have
always loved about Open Space is that full range of human expression always
comes into  play, even in those restrictive situations where words are
presumed to be the sole manifestation of meaning, such as with academics
and bureaucrats of various sorts. To make the point, and also to help
facilitators relate more deeply to the Open Space environment, I often
suggest that they give up trying to catch the words (which in a large group
are lost anyhow) and simply watch the dance. And it is a dance as groups
and individuals eddy and swirl collectively in their search for meaning. Or
I ask that they shut their eyes and consider the colors. Sometimes, it is
just black -- which tells you a lot. More often it is every color of the
rainbow, serially or all at once. Going to a different modality of sensing
I propose shutting the eyes and covering the ears -- and just smell. What
does it smell like? Hot, steel, electric, roses, thunder storm, fresh
grass, sweet, sweaty ?????

It is true that in the Western world, words take on a central importance,
but elsewhere this is not the case. For example, during the time I spent in
a small West African village, I learned that nothing of real importance was
fully expressed until it was danced. And so, each person had their dance
which they created and learned during their days in the so called Bush
School -- and which was "performed" on those special occasions in the life
of the village. And everybody was expected to do "their" dance. Even me, as
I discovered during my participation in the Celebration for the Rites of
Passage for the Boys. I was there as a visiting photographer when the word
came from the chief that it was time for me to do my dance. The whole
village was gathered in a large circle in the center of the town, the drums
were beating, and the chief's word was not to be slighted. So I took my
cameras off, walked to the center of the circle, and assumed that the drums
would tell me what to do. And they did. It turned out to be something like
a Charleston. Given the fact that the temperature was in the high 90's and
I was wearing field boots, my performance was probably not the best. When I
finished, some of the women came out and stuck a coin on my sweaty-muddy
forehead as an expression of approval. And then the chief's first wife came
out and did the same.  Wow! As I walked to the side, I heard the Elders in
deep conversation -- and eventually their words were translated as
follows-- "Where did i learn that dance, for it is an old, old Chiefs
Dance?" On the basis of no other evidence, I am convinced that The
Charleston is in fact an old Kpelle chief"s dance that turned up in South
Carolina when its "owner" was brought there as a slave. Who knows? but I do
know that we all have our dance.

ho





Harrison Owen
7808 River Falls Drive
Potomac, MD 20854 USA
phone 301-365-2093
Open Space Training www.openspaceworld.com
Open Space Institute www.openspaceworld.org
Personal website http://mywebpages.comcast.net/hhowen/index.htm

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