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At 12:55 AM 10/31/2002 -0400, Chris
wrote:<blockquote type=cite class=cite cite>
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<dd>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</i>, more important than other
realms of experience. </blockquote>
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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.<br>
<blockquote type=cite class=cite cite>
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<dd> 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?</blockquote>
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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
<i>only</i> 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
?????<br><br>
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.
<br><br>
ho<br><br>
<br><br>
<br>
<x-sigsep><p></x-sigsep>
<div align="center">Harrison Owen<br>
7808 River Falls Drive<br>
Potomac, MD 20854 USA<br>
phone 301-365-2093<br>
Open Space Training
<a href="http://www.openspaceworld.com/" eudora="autourl">www.openspaceworld.com</a>
<br>
Open Space Institute <a href="http://www.openspaceworld.org/" eudora="autourl">www.openspaceworld.org</a><br>
Personal website <a href="http://mywebpages.comcast.net/hhowen/index.htm" eudora="autourl"><font color="#0000FF">http://mywebpages.comcast.net/hhowen/index.htm</a><br><br>
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