A Story and an Oath

The last few weeks of 2012 have been truly fulfilling. Since school ended I've been traveling, introspecting, and growing a beard: a holiday to counter-balance what was an eventful, facial-hair-less year.

2012 was full of self-realization for me. I experienced many growth spurts, with many associated growing pains. I also enjoyed a wealth of opportunity and wonderment.

One of the most significant moments of wonder happened just a few weeks ago, at about 5AM GMT on the 18th of December.

The story begins when Joel, my visiting Canadian friend, and I were planning our travels along the coast of Ghana. We wanted to stay in the small town of Beyin near the border of Cote D'Ivoire, so that we could travel via canoe to Nzulezu, the village on the water.

We were considering staying at the Beyin Beach Resort, which we had read about online a few days prior. A quick consultation with my Lonely Planet easily convinced us that the BBR was the spot for us: “...owners can help you arrange trips to Nzulezu, as well as night hikes to look for turtles.”

That's right. Moonlit walks on the beach with the owner of the resort, looking for nesting sea turtles. From August to March there are frequent sightings of Green, Olive Green Ridley, and Leatherback turtles. They glide onto the shores of West Africa to lay clutches of eggs in the warm sand. After 45-75 days, the hatchlings climb out of their beach nests and, following their instinct to move toward the brightest light, they hobble a strenuous hike to the bright, open horizon. If they are lucky they get swept away by the tide before predators (including humans) notice them. It is a fascinating practice of regeneration.

It's worth noting that of the seven species of sea turtle, six of them are currently endangered. They are becoming rarer and rarer due to their vulnerable birthing process and careless fishing practices. There's something deeply saddening about our human involvement in this family's destruction.

Those who know me will admit that I have been fascinated by turtles my whole life, beginning with my foray into the martial arts via the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the age of four. Joel seemed to share my interest, and we became excited- nay, we were ecstatic in the possibility of seeing a rare turtle in the wild. 

"We might be disappointed," Joel tempered our excitability with reason. "How do we know it's turtle season?" 

"Of course it's the season... Turtles at Christmas! They are a perfect match!" I was alluding to the chocolates that are popular in Canada at this time of year, trying to point you a funny coincidence. "You know that song?"

"Oh sure," Joel said, playing along without really knowing what I was talking about. "How could I forget THAT one?"

And without skipping a beat, he burst into song! Not the song I was thinking about, but an improvised two-minute ballad about Turtles and Christmas. It was hilarious and we laughed all the way to sleep. We were all hopped up on the giddy-gas of turtle prospecting, and visions of leatherbacks danced in our dreams.

--

We set out early the following morning. After about 5 hours of tro-tro travel we arrived at our lodgings with a great sigh of relief. We managed to have a tour of the stilted village that afternoon, returned to the resort for an ocean swim, and by dinner-time it was clear that we were the only guests of the BBR. As the night crept in we re-focused our energy on our newfound purpose of turtle-spotting. We approached Gifty, our host, about the legendary night walks on the beach.

"Actually, the owner hasn't done turtle walks this year." she told us gravely. 

I sighed. "Shoot. Is it possible that we could still see a turtle on our own?"

"Of course," she giggled, "but I don't know if you'll find one." The owner of the resort walked by just as she finished saying this. She called him over. "Patrick, these men are interested in seeing a turtle."

Patrick lamented that he was no longer doing turtle walks because it was so tiring, and the sleep was so irregular. He advised us to take a walk along the beach between 10pm and 2am, and at this time of year there we had perhaps a 45% chance of seeing a turtle. Those were best odds for seeing a sea turtle in the wild that I've ever had! Patrick had renewed a sense of hope within us.

At 10pm promptly Joel and I set out along the moonlit beach. The stars were uncountable, and if you stared long enough into the darkness a new star would appear from the abyss. The sound of the ocean eased life's rhythm, and I felt myself dissolve into the universe a bit. It is a great privilege to experience such raw natural beauty.

We felt determined that we would find a turtle. Joel sang his seasonal turtle song. I did my best turtle call (ever heard it?). Both of us beckoned and willed the great marine matrons to our little spot of shore. How does a turtle choose where to nest?

As we tried to decipher the shadows around us, I began seeing turtles everywhere. It really is amazing just how much the mind yields to our desires. We came upon a small mound of freshly turned sand on the beach.

"Joel! Look at this sand! I bet this is a nest! I bet a turtle has been here! Ohhhh we musta just missed her-"

"Actually Brandon, I think that's just a sand crab's burrow." Joel spoke gently, as all good teachers do.

"Are you sure J-"

Before I could finish, a sand crab darted sideways out of the "nest". I nodded in the wake of my error. Of course it was a crab's burrow. It was far too small for a turtle, obviously. Funny that reason itself may be mercurial.

As if proving the point to myself, a few paces later I unwittingly did it again. Yes, I was THAT excited to see a sea turtle. "Joel, look at this sand! This has gotta be a nes-" I stopped myself just as another crab darted from the burrow. And that was all it took.

It took two crabs to start the final diminishing of our hopes, and the steam of our earlier excitement had fully dissipated after about an hour of beach-walking and no signs of nesting. I think it occurred to us that this was a kind of “needle in the haystack” operation. Or like a “winning the lottery” situation, where being in the same place and time as a sea turtle in the wild defies some extraordinary odds.

We chalked up our journey to an inspiring walk on the beach (still awesome) and opted to go to bed. As we fell asleep we joked about the turtle song and call again, having accepted our turtle-less fate. Or so we thought.

--

My eyelids popped open at the knock on the door. I groaned in the darkness, unsure where I was.

"I'm sorry to wake you," came a British accent through the window. "But I know you were interested in seeing a turtle, and there's one nesting on the beach right now." At the word "turtle" I snapped back into my surroundings and recognized the voice as Patrick, the owner of the resort.

"Whaddya think?" asked Joel, feigning calmness. We paused briefly as reality set in before we jumped out of our beds and chased Patrick down to the beach. In that ten-second power-walk of anticipation I looked up at the stars and smiled. I briefly pondered the notion that somehow we're all made of stardust. 

I froze when I reached the sand and saw the large awkward shadow crawling slowly on the beach, against the backdrop of the twilit Atlantic. I caught myself literally jaw-dropped, and I was overcome with amazement. Our turtle-calling had worked!

We shyly approached her, led by Patrick. We carefully gazed at her under a flashlight. She was about two and a half feet long and around 2 feet wide. She had already finished her nesting, and was now carving a path through the sand back to the water. She had bid her offspring good-bye, unsure of their survival. Patrick himself was excited. He pointed out the five pairs of scutes on her shell revealing herself as a Loggerhead.

According to the Patrick, there have been no recent sightings of Loggerhead turtles, and they are feared near extinction. The fact that she was nesting here of all places added to the uniqueness of our situation.

The rareness of the experience sunk deeper with every tread this treasure of the ocean mustered. I stared in total silence, as she pulled herself along the sand toward the waves. The crashing of the ocean lulled me into a trance, and I dissolved completely into a state of awe. We watched her disappear under a wave, and I imagined her dissolving likewise into the infinite horizon at the edge of the sea.

As I walked back to our hut I was filled with gratitude. For having experienced something so rare and beautiful. For having been woken up by a resort owner who cared about our experience. For having been born of this world in the first place.

I felt a deep appreciation for all life, and for existence itself. I dwelled again on the inconceivable odds against our existence, let alone the odds against having the capacity to experience such tremendous, ephemeral beauty. In that moment of appreciation I felt my connection with all things deepen, and contemplated the mysteries of our planet, and the universe.

Experiencing the presence of the loggerhead is as good an example of the experience of wonder I can list in my recent memory. Though I try to experience some degree of wonder on a daily, if not momentary basis, it's been a while since I've been rendered speechless for so long. 

A friend recently sent me the following short documentary. It details the experience astronauts have when they see our planet from space. If you have twenty minutes I highly recommend it, as you might be able to relate.

The astronauts discuss a profound sense of connection to the planet, and to all things OF it. Seeing the Earth as one great, vulnerable ecosystem, in which all of us play a part. They speak of recognizing their interdependence on all other things in this system.

It's been said that to experience wonder is to recognize yourself as part of something greater.  This is why I believe wonder to be such a valuable experience. It “refreshes our cache”, disintegrating our ego into some larger community of co-existence. In the experience of wonder we stretch ourselves around new experiences and perspectives. Wonder draws our attention to the vast sphere of the unknown and unknowable, and points us to reflect the certainty of our own beliefs.

In this way, the experience of wonder is somehow what we all need a lot more of. We need to recognize and value our shared existence. We need to find a way to challenge our assumptions and extend ourselves beyond the comforts of our beliefs. I believe we need to identify with our shared capacity for suffering in all its forms, and find unity in the recognition of our fragile interdependence. We are all earthlings. We are all stardust.

Getting along with one another requires a sort of cognitive humility. An acknowledgement that we experience such a small scope of possibility, and that others see and construct things differently. It requires making space for doubt, allowing the possibility that despite my best efforts I might be wrong. To me, this is the mindset of a willing student. Indeed, I believe the experience of wonder depends enormously on the mindset of the individual.

So this New Year, I've decided to re-commit myself to the mindset of a student of wonder. I have developed a bit of a student's oath, which I hope to bring with me wherever 2013 brings me. Admittedly its a bit of a draft, but I wanted to share it with you at this dawning of a new year.

Student's Oath

Everything is connected – we (all things) are all stardust, and my thoughts, words, and actions have influence greater than I could ever know. This simple premise goes a long way down, and reminds me to see myself in all things and approach each day with a sort of universal respect.

Understanding follows curiosity – Questions help me make sense of my experience, which determine how I interpret future experiences. Curiosity drives my intellectual development, shaping my perspective, and often allowing me great personal discovery by seeing things in different ways.

Challenge all assumptions - I must recognize that the assumptions upon which my model of the world is based may not, in fact, be reflective of the absolute truth. I feel I have a responsibility to ensure that every assumption is treated as fairly and judiciously as possible, and that I have the capacity to understand the rationale underlying others' assumptions

There is always another way – Despite years of practiced linear thinking, and searching for one right answer, I have learned that different perspectives reveal many answers. I dwell in possibility.

I might be wrong - At the end of it all, there's a teaspoon of uncertainty inherent to the structure of my reality. This is, in effect, one of the most important facets of the students' mindset, and perhaps one of the most difficult to practice. Our minds don't like the anxiety that is associated with uncertainty and not knowing, so we'd sooner cling to our beliefs than admit we might be wrong. Getting used to being wrong is something I think our schools and society need to begin to model. Kathryn might agree with me.

Thank you for considering the stories and ideas here. I've appreciated having you along for this most fulfilling journey. I hope all of you have enjoyed a rejuvenating holiday, and found growth and meaning in your personal reflections of past year. Here's to sharing a wonder-filled new year of kindness, consideration, and connection.

Yours in mystery's wisdom,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 74 - Delays

Many of you will know that I have a terrible time trying to get out of bed in the morning. I just love morning sleep. So much more than night-time sleep. I've even developed a habit of waking myself up 90 minutes before I actually have to get out of bed, so that I can have the satisfaction of hitting the snooze button five or six times. I thoroughly enjoy drifting back to morning sleep after these false alarms. (Thinking about it now, it seems like such ridiculous behaviour. Intentionally sending myself into a panic only to dwell the relief of its falsehood. Crying wolf just to enjoy the calm in the aftermath. )

Even Christmas morning doesn't often stir me from my beautiful slumber. In this way I'm a morning sleep snob. 

Not today though. Today morning sleep got bumped off my priority list, as I raced into the waking world. I bounced out of bed as though I was seven and Santa-happy on the 25th of December. Today is indeed a special day. It's the day my great friend Joel was supposed to arrive for a 10-day visit in Ghana. I was totally stoked, and floated all the way to school.

At about nine-thirty the chemistry class was halfway through it's final exam, when I received a call from a strange number. Sure enough it was Joel. 

"Hi Brandon, so I missed my connecting flight here in Ethiopia. The airline is paying for a hotel, and I'll be over to Ghana tomorrow."

Of course. 

That was my first thought. Of course. As though I'm somehow always the victim of circumstance. Of course this would happen to me. 

It's funny how quickly I felt/feel "hard done by". I have so many things and thoughts for which to be grateful, and here I am frustrated by the slight delay in my gratification. Never mind that my mind didn't immediately think about how Joel might feel about the situation, after having traveled his overnight trans-Atlantic journey. 

Thankfully, I recognized my gut reaction while still on the phone with my pal. Also thankfully, Joel is a pretty adaptable guy, and we were able to share a laugh at the fortune. 

I spent some time this afternoon wondering about my capacity for delayed gratification. I wonder what the world would be like if we were all a little better at postponing immediate pleasures for greater rewards later. If nothing else, I imagine our debts might not be so gargantuan. 

Even more wonder-worthy then, is how do we educate students to learn to appreciate delay and deference of our own self-interested desires?

Thank you for reading. 

Expectantly, 

Brandon

P.S. The famous Stanford marshmallow study sought to demonstrate the value of deferring gratification, and took stock of the age at which we begin to rationalize the value of patience and waiting. The following is an entertaining reproduction. 

Project Wonder - Day 73 - Mangoes

"Everyone who enjoys thinks that the principal thing to the tree is the fruit, but in point of fact the principal thing to it is the see. -- Herein lies the difference between them that create and them that enjoy." - Friedrich Nietzsche 

Every day I make efforts to pause and enjoy my senses. I'm not sure exactly when I began to cultivate this habit, but I'm very grateful for the practice. It helps to gravitate my days around moments of presence, no matter what future problems to which I'm supposed to be tending.

Of course as the future problems fade into the background a bit, it becomes easier to enjoy the fruits of existence. Which is why today I came home from school, and instead of immediately unpacking my satchel and getting to work on the final bit of marking, I opted to eat a mango. Okay, okay, I ate two.

Synaesthesia - Looking at these baby mangoes fills my nose with their fresh scent.

If you have never eaten a freshly picked mango, I am sorry that this PW will seem somewhat exclusive. You really should add that to your bucket list. And if you don't have a bucket list, start one, and make mangoes the first thing on the list.

A freshly picked mango from the tree outside our home has somehow been perfectly tailored for human consumption. The firm, dense body fits neatly in my palm, inviting my fingers to gently massage at its waxy exterior. Curiosity compels gentle compression, and slowly I succumb to full out squeezing, releasing the juices trapped in the once solid flesh and careful not to prematurely puncture the skin. Once I'm convinced my work is done, and the mango is ready, I set it down on the counter, and gaze one final moment at it's ephemeral beauty. Finally, I yield to temptation and gently tear a small hole in the thin golden layer. And my work is rewarded immediately, as the sweetest, fullest flavour rushes into my mouth and dances a happy dance on my tongue.

It is single-handedly the messiest, slurpiest fruit I have ever had the fortune of ingesting. But the flavour is unrivaled making the work just as much a part of its enjoyment. I feel an great, if completely disproportionate, sense of accomplishment as I rinse my hands of the sugars I couldn't lick clean. Enjoying my senses indeed.

I can't help but be completely amazed that this fruit exists. It came from the Earth! Somehow the elements have synchronized their efforts to produce this immaculate treasure, in such incredible abundance that I could eat myself sick of mangoes every day for weeks!

And even more amazing is that this fruit is not just for my taking, but serves it's bearer. The great leafy tree packages its genes in these golden treasures, and our consumption of the fruit helps to spread its seeds far and wide. The tree nourishes us with savoury sweetness, and we promulgate it's existence acting as storks of future seedlings. What an incredible relationship.

I often think that we COULD learn to live in some state of sustainable symbiosis. We could learn to value life in all its precious wonder. But too often we're not happy with "just" the mango.

Yours in simple pleasures,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 72 - Butterflies

Tomorrow marks the last day of school. My first full semester is coming to an end. Signed, sealed and delivered; rather, planned, experienced, and evaluated.

I'm so grateful to be in my current position, looking back at what seemed like insurmountable mountains from the other side. Many times I felt overwhelmed. I followed my own blind advice, and put myself through the paces, one step at a time. While the peak was often buried above the clouds, the students were with me to make the journey itself worthwhile. And of course, the hills behind me seem to have shrunk now that I'm here.

No, it's not Ghana. It's India. Still, it depicts my current sentiments. 

The students. The raison d'etre in my current capacity. I have learned so much from these bright minds. Not a day went by that they didn't stretch my understanding of the world. Nor was there a day when my faith in humanity wasn't restored by witnessing some small (or big) act of kindness. Indeed, the students have been the fire, and I'm surer now that I will spend a as much of my life as I can to fan their flames.

Perhaps one of the best, and simultaneously frustrating, things about working with these students is that they are yet unaware of the impact they have. On me, on each other, and on the world at large. It's great because their acts are sincere, but frustrating, because if they knew how much power they had, combined with their youthful energy, there's no telling what they would accomplish. Indeed, I've been caught on multiple occasions daydreaming about the possible paths these students might tread. It always leaves me smiling.

At one point during the semester we spoke about "the butterfly effect": the idea that a seemingly insignificant event can have huge, albeit indirect, consequences. I can't even remember the context in which we discussed it, but it got us (me) thinking about the beautiful complexity of the universe, and the small, yet immeasurable parts we all play within it.

This weekend I've been working on gifts for our classes. I want to impart the message that their journey is important. I figured the butterfly was a fitting symbol.

Origami butterfly - you can make one too! 

Thank you for joining me on this momentous journey. I'm already excited for an even better second semester.

Yours in complexity,

Brandon


Began the days with butterflies,
fluttering in my stomach,
flitting about my eyes.
Palettes of immiscible colours

Am I to net these painted wings?
They've already captured me.
Tapping into a vein of fantasy
calling memories of simple beauty,
noticing the purity of the universe
as she dances with herself,
and I strain to hear the music.

Project Wonder - Day 69 - Holiday

Today is a national holiday here in Ghana. It's also election day for the presidency. I've been home alone,  working away at the final few teaching-related tasks of the semester. Well, most of my day has been directed toward TRTs. I allowed myself quite a few breaks.

It's been so quiet outside. Normally there's a perpetual din through my bedroom window. Cars and motorcycles and roosters. But today there's been almost nothing. A truly peaceful holiday.

My solitude combined with the tranquility outside, provided the perfect climate for thought-meandering. Here are a few highlights in point form:

- I've been thinking a lot about how refreshing it was to see students out of the usual context. I saw the students on a field trip. And later that afternoon I got to chat with a few of the students at the open house. I even got to play a rigorous game of chess with one of the seniors. I was so surprised by how good he is, it was inspiring.

- My friend Joel and I had a chance to work on a shared writing project for the first time in quite a while. It was great to revisit ideas and start building again. Joel will also be journeying to Ghana next week for a visit. Exciting stuff!

- I spent some time listening to a few Rihanna songs, as recommended by a student. I couldn't help but dance. But after listening to the lyrics, I thought it strange how we often place self-aggrandizing celebrities on pedestals. It got me thinking about how focused our social, cultural and classroom upbringing has been on self-promotion.

- So I found myself researching projects that aim to build empathy.

Tonight, I've been watching magic videos. This one's my favourite:




It's been a great holiday. Full of perspectives. It's so easy to get stuck seeing the world in one way.

Thanks for reading,

Brandon
-

Project Wonder - Day 68 - Fans

My school doesn't have a mascot.

In high school, we were the Panthers. In university, we were the Marauders.

Today, the football team of Canadian Independent College Ghana played their hearts out in their first ever inter-school match. I can't help but feel like having a mascot might have helped us. Perhaps we could be the Golden Geese.

Our opponents, Ghana International School, didn't have a mascot either. Though if we were the Golden Geese, they might easily have suited something like the "Soul-Crushing Killer Beasts".

Just kidding. Nobody's souls were crushed today. A few egos were bruised, maybe, but I don't think there's anything too permanent about the damage. Besides, "winning" doesn't always mean defeating the other team. Would a Charlie Sheen joke be considered cliché?

CICs first match on a grass field... with proper goals. 

Ghana International School is arguably the best high school for academics and athletics in the country. They accept only the highest calibre students in both respects. They are approximately 1400 students strong. As additional measures of strength, consider that they have two full rosters of 22 students on each of the junior and senior football teams. They have a large-sized grass field on which to train each of these teams. They even have a FIFA certified referee on site at all times. He's a cool dude.

In contrast, the students of CIC total 41. We have a football team of 14, a small gravel parking lot in which to kick the ball around, and a coach who is still learning the ins and outs of the game from the team captain, as discreetly as possible I might add.

This story has all the makings of an underdog success story. But while the students of CIC ran fast, and kicked hard, they fell to GIS in a final score of 5 - nil.

During the first half the boys played really well. Even the other coach complemented us on our defense. Interestingly. in the first half the team had a small group of fans at the back; other students from the school cheering wildly for their mates. Our keeper only missed one save, and if not for a bad call by the ref (says the guy learning the game), we would have gone into halftime in a tie of 1-1.

In the second half, we switched sides. Our keeper suddenly found himself surrounded by fans of the other team. To make matters worse, many of the GIS fans remembered our keeper from his days as a student at the school. Although he was well received by his former classmates, they jokingly taunted and teased him around the goal. Nothing serious, but enough to get into his head.

In fact, I think the whole team could sense the majority of the audience rooting against them. The boys looked defeated and played with timidity as the goal count began to rise quickly.

I was reminded of the time I tried out Thai boxing in a bar on Koh Phi Phi a few years ago. I sparred another member of the crowd for 3 one-minute rounds, and when they announced my name at the beginning of the match, the whole place booed. I remember thinking, "but you don't even know me", and wanting to walk out of the place there and then.

During that time, I had only one person in my corner. She cheered me on and offered the best damn advice she could think of:

"Keep your hands up!"

My flashback refreshed me on the feeling of being rooted against. And how important it is to have someone to care about you and your success.

Admittedly I'm not much of a coach. At least a soccer coach. I'm more of a... soccer motivator. And I yelled and gave those players the best advice I could think of:

"Play hard boys, get the ball! Good work. GOOD HUSSSSTLE!"

All in all it was a great experience, and the teams shook hands and exchanged laughs and teenage ideas for a few minutes when the final whistle blew. I felt a great joy watching those students enjoy their time on the field, playing as a team. The bus ride home was full of song and joy and the smell of sweat as the students celebrated their loss. I could do nothing but close my eyes and listen.

I wonder just how much of our "loss" may be attributed to the influence of the fans. How do professional athletes stay focused on their performance? I'm developing a different appreciation for home-field advantage. Can we ever evade the influence by those who watch us perform?

It's gotten me thinking about those to whom I'm a fan. In what ways am I an audience member, or a whole audience. And how do my actions and words affect the players' performances?

Here's to your own resilient performances.

Brandon

Battered and bruised after sparring in Thailand. 

Project Wonder - Day 67 - Thinking

I was once told that only 5% of the people in the world were "thinkers". It was then that I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.

For as long as I can remember, my mind has been restless. It will trace a thought to its origins, and chase a thought beyond its limits. I remember not being able to sleep many nights because my mind couldn't stop nurturing pregnant ideas and question-bearing questions.

Thinking has, in many ways, become an obsession. The thrill of discovery is addictive. The weaving of discordant threads of observation into meaningful tapestries fills me with a deep sense of pleasure, and inner peace. And the best part is, I can do it all by myself. Sort of like mental masturbation.

Through my affinity for living in my head I've developed an array of strange, and nearly impractical talents. Like reciting the English alphabet backwards in less than 3 seconds. Or learning to beat box and sing at the same time. Indeed, a lot of my magic-focused thinking is a completely self-centered undertaking. Perhaps I've found my way into magic because it buys me time and space to spend dwelling on possibilities in my mind.

The drive to be a "thinker" has not always been so cheerful, of course. Some ideas were so unrelenting and cyclical that a few times I found myself in crisis. Trapped in my mind with no seeming way out. A few times after high school my thoughts took me to the very edge. I have stood on the metaphorical cliff, staring down into the abyss of what could be a meaningless existence, contemplating the sort of purpose that might be found on the other side. During these times of desperation I heard Dustin Hoffman playing Hook in the back of my mind: "Death is the only great adventure I have left."

Thankfully, I have extraordinarily caring family (including friends) who helped me look out at the view, instead of down into self-proclaimed martyrdom. They reminded me of that essential human wisdom, that we are not in this alone. That love, for others, for oneself, for all things, is the force of life. And that everyone, no matter how intellectual, acts according to this simple principle.

And though there were a few dark spots, in retrospect they have added a richness to my journey, fostering a sense of appreciation for the finite quality of days. Indeed my path has been frought with mental frustration and triumphs and living on the edge has rendered the rays of my experiences meaningful. I wouldn't trade my thought-filled journey for the world, and I plan to continue pursuing this yellow brick road all the way to the wizard for a brain.

I used to think I wanted to be a part of some exclusive 5%. To join the ranks of those finest of teachers and scholars. To somehow consider myself worthy of the company of Socrates, or Shakespeare, or Sagan. To be at the forefront of understanding of the human experience (or at least MY human experience).

And while I still strive for the latter, I now realize that there is no 5%. Why should there be? Isn't everyone a thinker in the beginning? Aren't we all still thinkers, to some degree or another? Sure, some people are more critically minded and than others, but don't we all still have the tools? I refuse to believe there's a hierarchy of consciousness. And if there is, then it seems our inherited institutions of education and consumerism are to blame.

With this in mind, and a couple of days of classes left, today I suggested that the students are all "thinkers". We discussed what it means to challenge ideas and take new perspectives, and I encouraged them to celebrate their capacity to do so. Then we discussed conformity, and obedience, and how these thought assassins would slowly dull our blades, without us even realizing it. Until eventually we find ourselves going through motions we didn't sign up for, and want no part of.

I encouraged them to carry three things with them: curiosity in the form of questions, creativity in the form of possibilities, and love in the form of willingness. It will be great if even one of them accepts the quest moving forward. Greater than 5%. Here's hoping.

Thank you for considering.

Yours pensively,

Brandon

P.S.