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Shine
With Unschooling... |
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On
conference talent shows:
The talent shows are really designed just to let kids and adults get up
in
front of a very supportive loving crowd and share part of who they are.
No
judging at all. Lots of smiles from the people who do chose to get up
there
but no pressure. Many people don't get up on stage. My son and I never
have,
but both my husband and daughter are quite at home on that stage. I've
noticed that the kids who don't get up the first night, realize that it
might
be a fun thing to do, and the second night of the talent show people
are
coming from all directions to tell a joke or sing a song. It's all
good.
I have so many favorite moments from conference talent shows at Live
and
Learn, but the one that stands out the most is when Rowan Kream was
very
young
and got up and juggled one ball. The joy in that room almost lifted the
roof
off. We had come to that conference not really knowing much about
unschooling,
and it stands out from that weekend as the moment I knew that all those
people in that room were doing something very cool. It still makes me
smile
every time I think of it.
—Gail
They are my favorite part! And I'm not an up on stage person, but it is
all about just celebrating who we are and what we love. The shining
children blind you! At one, smaller one my dds got up (surprised the
heck out of me) one daughter lifted her leg straight up over her head;
my other daughter
did a "dance move" that was a splitish combo twisting backwards!
Everyone
clapped and cheered, and they were so pleased. There was a pokemon
interpretive dance that was so awesome, but you'd would see it NO WHERE
but an
unschooling talent show. So it's not about judging just sharing and
feeling the love. No pressure at all.
—anonymous
I'm just smiling and grinning reading this thread ....
You've already gotten great answers, but since it's a smaller
regional conference that
you're considering, I wanted to
tell you that that's an even more ideal situation. My son was not at
all interested in the talent show at the big Live and Learn
Conferences—not even in watching them. But at a smaller
talent
show, he went on stage multiple times, and he felt so
good about it.
He also loved giving support to other people on stage, and really
appreciated their talents—that's the atmosphere that happens
at
these things.
And yeah, it might still be hard for your daughter. I know some kids
want to do all sorts of acts and get nervous while preparing, and it
feels like a really big deal to them. But like
another poster said, what
better place to work out those issues? No one will think poorly of
her if she's too nervous or gets flustered or is upset with
herself—
she'll be free to work that out without the judgment of others, which
is rare for a "performance" type of event.
Something to think about, anyway.
—Amy
On dealing with fears:
This is how we Shine...in ALL
these ways. It's during the dark times that
we learn about the Light.
I agree ... and I'd like to springboard off of your springboard, Anne.
This thread is
really matching up with a lot of things I've been
thinking about. I don't have rock-solid answers, but I'd like to
share my thought process, and some suggestions that I'm going to try
out in my home, too.
On the nature of darkness and fear:
A lot of good things happen in the dark. In nature, roots grow
underground in the dark. Soil is made in the dark. Much of the life
of lakes and seas and oceans is in the deep dark parts. Dark is what
gives us dew, allows us to see the reflected sunlight in the moon, and
the stars—both so different from direct sunlight, such a
different
experience, but very much part of life here on planet Earth.
Dark is often home to sweet mysteries like sex (and
conception—new
life!) and restorative sleep and dreams that help us integrate our
reality. I think that we learn about the light in the dark times
because dark and light have a very real and necessary relationship in
our world—everything that comes into the light has a
relationship
with the dark, and vice versa.
And yet, we very naturally fear the dark, fear the shadows which blind
our day vision, fear our own children's fear, and their experience
with the dark and mysterious. Fear seems to be part of that
experience with the myterious—but that raw material of fear
can
transform into many other things, many helpful things like compassion
and empathy if it's given attention and a place to be ... and many
difficult things if the fear is repressed.
The ability to fear is the ability to have a full emotional and bodily
response, to be able to experience life, to be vulnerable in a way
that is not the heroic ideal that our society prefers and is more
comfortable with, but is, in fact, part of being human and whole. We
don't usually think of it as an "ability" to fear, but realizing it as
such can be helpful.
(Possible resources: There's an old German fairy tale about The
Youth Who Set Out to Learn What Fear Was.
And Tanya Wilkinson's book, Persephone Returns has
a really nice
chapter on how that tale ties into the human psyche, about the
desirability of fear in being fully human. I can't go into the whole
thing here, but it might be useful for some parents to check out.)
Witnessing someone else's fear—especially our children's
fear—
can be incredibly painful. It can bring up a whole host of feelings
for us: old shame for feeling fear when we were a child, lack of trust
in our own ability to handle the crisis, our own old fears that may
not be quite resolved yet, guilt that our child is suffering, sadness
that they are losing some part of their innocence.
It strikes me that all of this—the child's fears and the
adult's
response—is a huge part of growth, for both the child and the
adult. As Anne said, we need to live it ... I would say we need to
process it ourselves so we can be solidly there for our children.
Working with that energy can be a very soulful, connecting process.
***
Suggestions:
I loved all of Anne's suggestions about drawing a circle of
protection, seeing the light of it, etc. And as I'm writing this, I
wonder if there's more ... I'm coming up with some things that I'd
like to explore with my son, too.
Things like: storytelling about the "bad guys," and wondering what
they would say if we asked them what they wanted. Remember in the
movie, The Sixth Sense, how they finally deal with
the little boy's
ability to see dead people? He starts asking the dead if they have
something they need to tell him, and he starts helping them. What was
terrifying at the beginning of the movie has no power to hurt him by
the end—in fact, his visits from the dead are continuing
opportunities for compassion and connection and growth and a real
connected-to-all-of-humanity joy.
That approach is very in line with Gandhi's principles of
non-violence, or ahimsa, as well, as I think about it. Whatever or
whoever threatens you—you can relate to it/him as a person,
outside
of the violence, outside of the threat. People have avoided being
victimized that way, in real life. As an attacker approached or
threatened them, instead of reacting as a victim or trying to be a
forceful hero, they asked the time, or offered to feed them, or asked
the attacker for help, and the whole situation changed.
Maybe a parent could share more of those stories with her child, and
that might help loosen things up, might offer more options of how the
scenarios he's running in his head could go. (If you get the book, Chicken
Soup for the Soul, Third Helping,
it has a very powerful
true story about a family in a motor home that is broken into.)
When I was dealing with some similar fears a few years ago, I used to
practice my response in my head, in case I was ever awakened by an
intruder—"Oh, do you have the time?" (And you know what I'm
realizing right now, as I write this? I practiced that a few years
ago, and for the first time ever in my life, those fears have really,
truly gone away. I hardly ever think about those things anymore.
It's as though the peaceful, surprising response has seeped into my
psyche such that I know it will be there if I ever do need it. I have
a friend who might also say that I no longer draw violence to me
through my fear, and that my calm comes from that now. Hmmm, I don't
know—I'll have to think about that.)
So maybe a parent and child could make up a list of things that they
could say, things that would surprise someone and might help stop them
from hurting anyone, like, "We have cold pizza in the
fridge—would
you like some?" You could post the list on the walls, where the
child could see it if he ever needs it. Along with the talismans and
the circles of protection—I think it's so helpful for some
kids
when they have something they could do, something they could say, and
to have it be something surprising and small and kind of trickster-ish
can really resonate with a child.
Or maybe the parent will know that talking about real situations like
that will overwhelm their child, and they'll need to approach the
topic in story form only. I think dealing with this kind of fear is a
major developmental task for children, and so they will be ready for
different stages of it at different times, just like with reading and
other developmental tasks. I certainly am not advocating that parents
to push too much, too soon. I'm just trying to make a place for
the fear, the dark and the mystery in a soulful, complex
way—as
much for my own parenting and living as for anything else.
—Amy
I've really enjoyed this discussion and your post, Amy, in
particular (I printed it out to read over) because it feels like a
direction I've been heading in for a while in regards to viewing
fear differently than I did before in my life.
For me, I've struggled a lot with fear in my life and always viewed
it as unavoidable and so to be endured, but negative and opposed to
what I wanted and where I wanted to go. I first started questioning
this view when I read Gavin DeBecker's book Protecting the
Gift
about "stranger danger" issues. When I ordered it, I thought
the "gift" he was referring to was our children. So it was a huge
shock to me (I think my jaw hit the floor) when I read it and found
out that the gift he was talking about was FEAR. Fear as
a "Gift"? It just bowled me over and got me thinking in a new way
about fear, how it was helpful, how all the fears in my life had, at
the same time as they "held me back" also had necessary and
important messages about what I needed. Fears had performed
necessary protective functions, protecting me from situations I
wasn't ready for, feelings that were painful, physical pain in some
instances. Thinking about it in this new way I could see that the
way I had moved forward from fears in the past was by recognizing
and listening to those messages and working on those issues that
required the protection until it was no longer needed.
And so with my children, I have been looking at the fears as
something important with a function, a necessity, a "voice" that
needs to be heard. I think lately I've been trying to move more to
a reaction to and view of fear, in myself or my children, in the
same way I have come to react to and view conflict....as an
incredible opportunity to learn more about ourselves and to connect
with our world. I know for me, I've moved through some really Major
with a capital "M" fears in my life and boy, when I get to the other
side there's this incredible amazing connected to the universe
feeling that comes out of having gone through the process.
Interestingly I think that this is similar to what can happen with
moving through conflict...When I was in the forming cohousing group
our family was a major part of for two years I read an article that
commented that many people in cohousing reported feeling closer and
more connected to others in their community with whom they had gone
through a successful conflict resolution process. More connected
to those people than to others they might consider "friends"...That
struck me as so interesting and powerful. That accepting and
reaching into and sharing and moving through those "dark" feelings,
that giving them an honored "place" and thereby transforming them
creates such a richness of connection and life.
I really loved the rich and fertile imagery in Amy's post about
darkness and light and I'm really working within myself on a move from
treating fear as putting up
with what I perceive "is" with a sigh and a wish it
weren't so
toward making a welcoming, non-
judgmental, open and curious space for fear and other feelings and
issues I formerly viewed negatively or put in "opposition" to
myself. Not because I want to "stay" in conflict or fear (ugh!) and
not to invalidate the pain and difficulty of being there, but
because it feels so good and rich and right and validating to
recognize and honor these feelings for their potential, for
what's "growing" underneath them, for their messages and as
important parts of myself and my children.
—Joan
I'm
loving reading all these posts! Amy the inside of
my mind looks a lot like yours on this, and the
wonderful way you put things into words helps me
organize my thoughts.
SHINING one's light into the dark of the
unknown! And
the unknown is actually longing to be enlightened.
This is what the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty is all
about.
The fear that can accompany venturing into
Unschooling, or any other pursuit not widely accepted
by society for that matter, looks like another great
example to me. I have had several friends in the past,
very shiny explorers of the unknown, who unfortunately
let their fears overpower them, broke down
(dis-integrated) and joined some ultra-fundamentalist
evangelical group so as to revert to a path that was
all laid out for them and accepted, where the dark
was hidden from, suppressed, denied and projected onto
some external element e.g. the devil.
I experienced each of these instances as a loss to
mourn the very same way as if they had literally died—they
had lost their shine and thus become dull and
lifeless and could no longer relate to me.
It's occurred to me that this whole thread
about fears
is a beautifully appropriate one right now as we are
heading into Halloween—what better time to talk about
it? What a great way to observe the Holiday, going
back to its roots. Departed souls, dwindling daylight,
harvest the wisdom of experience....
Aloha,
—Nicole
(meditating on the yin-yang symbol, that
beautiful metaphor of balance, integrity and the
dance)
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