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Abstract
We have been in the postmodern turn for some time in early years care and education. As a result, much has been said and written about what policies, theories, and practices we no longer wish to see govern us. However, alternative ways of being in the world with young children still are reticent to take hold. Proposed here is a turn East, a turn inward, and a return to our roots for wisdom to guide, inspire, and challenge us. Moment to moment living and being with self, others, and the Earth in deep humility, compassion, and empathy is explored as a pedagogical alternative to the doing ways of conventional early childhood practice.
Introduction
This paper has been a long time in the making – a lifetime some would say. The same could perhaps be said about every piece of writing; we story our lives every time we write (Hasebe-Ludt et al., 2009). In truth, it was at the 2008 Reconceptualizing Early Childhood Education (RECE) conference in Victoria, Canada, that the thoughts formulated here consciously began to take shape. I was hot on the heels of having defended my doctoral dissertation and was in top critical thinking form. I was the first to ask probing questions. My commitment to problematize, deconstruct, and reconceptualize was strong. I was keen to disrupt, interrogate, cut through, upset, disturb, overturn, interrupt, trouble, shift, dislocate, perturb, and dislodge all manner of normativity.
I was a force to be reckoned with – and then it hit me. All these words we use to describe what we do, as reconceptualists, are hard words, strident, even violent words; words that cause discomfort and uneasiness. We say this is exactly what we need, that the field of early years care and education has for far too long been dominated by one right-way developmentally appropriate practice thinking and it is imperative that we shift away from this complacency. While I agree unequivocally that what the field needs is to be awakened to the inequities and injustices of the dominant discourses of developmentalism, heteronormativity, racism, colonialism, classism, and the like, what I wish to offer here is food for thought on how we might approach this work in a manner that is mindful, heartful, and ecological, rather than strident and forceful.
Reflections on hope
A good friend and colleague who is a teacher of English language learners is a hope advocate. I myself am a hope skeptic. I have always considered hope to be a cop-out, a hiding one’s head in the sand, just willing things to change, rather than getting out there and being the change you want to see (Mahatma Gandhi). I saw myself reflected in the words my son spoke recently, “Sometimes mom, you just have to go out there and make things happen.”
Perhaps I have created for myself a dichotomy. At one end there is the naivety of hope (hope advocates would say the audacity of hope!) and at the other end is the action, the critical thinking, and decision-making that actually gets things done in the face of adversity or challenge or the need for change. In my black or white, all or none thinking, there is no room for both hope and action. My thinking has always been fatalistic, “Choices are made in a few seconds and paid for in the time that remains” (Giordano, 2009: 338).
As I encounter more and more adult learners who are in a crisis of conscience, when their eyes are opened to the inequities and injustices of our world, and more specifically the injustices and inequities that plague the field of early years care and education, they become disheartened; I think there must be some other way to proceed in this crisis. Feeling stuck and overwhelmed, one force in the midst of the dominant majority does little to move the justice and equity agenda forward.
My friend sees hope as “a motivating force or necessary condition for action” (Sillito, 2009: 181). She also sees humor as central. Me, I’m pretty serious. These are serious matters we are dealing with. People’s lives are at stake. The other day I asked someone’s opinion on which photograph of myself I should submit with an article for publication. They choose the one in which I was not smiling, saying, “This one looks more academic.” You see, being an academic is serious business!
As such, I still am not ready to use the word hope; instead, I use words such as mindful, heartful, and ecological, but I know my friend and I are on the same wavelength when she writes:
I have concluded that my practice must allow space for three powers: hope, humour, and hearing. Hope, because the mere focus on hope elevates hope; humour because of its power to elevate hope and mitigate pain; and hearing, a concept that goes beyond listening as it involves being present to one another as whole persons and hearing messages that come from sources other than words. These are the anchors for those who dare to hope. (Sillito, 2009: 189)
I dare hope that the reflections that follow will in some small way contribute to rethinking how we go about nurturing change in early years care and education locally and globally.
An indigenous perspective
Growing up in Canada, and now raising a son with indigenous Canadian roots, indigenous values have always been part of my consciousness. Lately, however, through my work in Aotearoa (New Zealand), I have begun seeing what indigenous values, beliefs, and practices might offer our deliberations of mindfulness, heartfulness, and ecological living in early years care and education. For this section I am indebted to Macfarlane et al. (2007), but even more so to my colleagues in Aotearoa who each day endeavor to work out how to live these values in postcolonial contexts.
Whanaungatanga (relationships)
Relationships are central to the Māori way of being – relationships, not just with other human beings (your kin), but also with the Earth. During the sharing of mihi, the traditional Māori greeting, you begin first with your connections to physical places of significance, the mountain, the river, or other land features from which you arise. These embody the relational connections we have to our first ancestor, the Earth. It is incumbent therefore for us to care for that from which we arise, the land upon which we live. This thinking exemplifies the interconnected nature of life; that who we are and what we do is intimately connected to planet Earth and all its inhabitants and all its habitats. If we are going to effect meaningful change in early childhood settings, theory, curriculum, pedagogy, policies, etc., then the interconnectedness of life must be central in our deliberations.
Rangatiratanga (self-determination)
Much is said and written regarding the connections between rangatiratanga and the Treaty of Waitangi, the document signed between Māori chiefs and representatives of the British Crown; with the Māori understanding being that what the treaty would offer them is partnership, protection, and participation, not colonial domination. For our purposes here, considering mindfulness, heartfulness, and ecological living, rangatiratanga suggests that one’s decision-making and choices are always to be respected and valued. Each of us has power, agency, and free will. Rangatiratanga resists one right-way thinking dictated from sources outside of self and context.
Manaakitanga (ethos of care)
Manaakitanga is a beautiful concept and one that recently caused a bit of a maelstrom in Aotearoa. Manaakitanga embodies reciprocity of care and hospitality. We are all beholden to care for the other, no controversy there perhaps, but for Māori, as the first people of Aotearoa, it is considered their responsibility to care for and offer hospitality to all the guests that have come and continue to come to their land. A prominent Māori academic therefore has suggested that immigration policies should provide for some way of testing people wishing to settle in Aotearoa to see if they might hold racist views that could cause not only Māori, but all people for whom Māori feel a responsibility of manaakitanga toward, to feel unsafe (Close Up, 2011). As we consider how to be mindful, heartful, and ecological in early years care and education, the notion of guest hood and our responsibilities one toward the other, may at first glance seem simple enough; however, as the situation in Aotearoa indicates, there are deep complexities we will need to ponder.
Kotahitanga (unity and bonding)
According to Māori beliefs, we are all born with a share of the spiritual essence known as mana. It is our portion of power and prestige, although not in a showy sense, but a humble sense. We all have value and all are significant inhabitants of the Earth. It is in our unity that we derive our strength. To exclude anyone is to exclude a part of the life force granted not just to individuals, but also to us all since we are all united and bonded together through mana. As we move forward in reconceptualizing early years care and education, kotahitanga suggests this task must be done in ways that uphold the mana of each and everyone – children, families, colleagues, communities, and self.
Pumanawatanga (a beating heart)
It is through the beating heart, the lifeblood that makes actions and involvement with one another possible, that the concepts of unity, care, self-determination, and relationships are lived out. As we live from the heart, the place of empathy and deep knowing, we create community and a place where all people, all ideas, all joys, all sorrows are valued, accepted, and treated with gracious kindness. Acting at least as equally from the heart as we do from our heads, and thus invoking pumanawatanga, seems essential in our attempts to begin anew in early years care and education.
Lessons from Africa
I have bounced around a bit in my academic career and now find myself in East Africa. In the master’s program where I presently teach, many of the students are being introduced to Western-style critical thinking and terms such as problematizing, deconstructing, and reconceptualizing for the first time. While debriefing the experiences course participants had while out on teaching practicum, there was much nervous knowing laughter when discussions were initiated about insipient issues, such as the way schools and teachers are dealing with a lack of resources. I asked them about their laughter. They said it was all just so familiar, like seeing one’s self in a mirror. It would seem to me that this ought to be the basis of reconceptualization, seeing one’s self in the problems that need deconstruction. The old adage, there but by the grace of God go I, if actively applied, might lead to compassionate understanding of why things are the way they are, and thereby bring heartfulness to the act of reconceptualization.
Where I am situated in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, I encounter many people of the Ismaili faith, and while I am greatly impressed with the philanthropic commitments made to world development through the various arms of the Aga Khan Development Network, it is the focus upon individual context-specific situations that most impresses me. Heartful attempts to make the world a better place are found in the Aga Khan microfinance initiative that allowed a woman to begin her own thriving taxi business that has served to bring her family out of poverty. This example led even my Ismaili colleague herself to say, “Sometimes I am so proud to be Ismaili.” Most significantly, I am inspired by the everyday ways many Ismaili followers live their lives. Their commitment to country, community, and charity (zakah), through the offering (nazrana) of their time and knowledge is unparalleled, and we have much to learn from them about mindfulness, heartfulness, and ecological living. “Tiny actions can fundamentally alter your relationship to the world for the better” (Williams and Penman, 2011: 232).
Reflections on faith
It was some time ago that I first began moving away from the Christian worldview that was the natural product of a childhood lived in small town Western Canada. Recently, in jest, a friend commented when I extended manaakitanga toward him, “You would sure make a good Christian.” He, a committed Christian, and I a spiritual atheist, have had many conversations about matters of the soul, and although his comment was tongue-in-cheek and borne out of many caring and respectful discussions, it still represents a truth; that many people are bound by seeing caring only through the lens they wear, or that care can only be possible through the auspice of religion. When we encounter someone who acts from the heart we make assumptions about what motivates them. In the absence of religion we might then label that person a humanist. It seems we need some external sanctioning for our goodness. Why can it not be that to be a person is to be someone who acts heartfully, mindfully, and ecologically?
The turn Eastward
For me, the turn toward Eastern wisdom some years ago set me on a journey of discovery, a journey that really involves going nowhere but rather being mindful and present to that which presents itself in every moment, in every opportunity. The title of a popular beginners’ guide to meditation reads Don’t Just Do Something, Sit There (Boorstein, 1996).
Eric Fromm (2005) said some years ago that Western culture is a having culture. A culture dominated by the accumulation, not just of wealth but also of concepts, ideas, actions, knowledge, and more. In fact, many of us from the West seem to be perpetually busy doing the things we feel we need to do in order to have the things we believe we need to have. While on this treadmill we miss the present, we fail to simply be here, to be mindful. I think this can be true even of doing good deeds, doing critical thinking, doing social justice, or doing that which might make the world more equitable.
Being mindful
Mindfulness, being fully present, aware, open, trusting, in each moment means we must remain prepared to take in new information, to see yet another perspective on an issue, be ready to change our minds because we now have a fuller picture. To be mindful is to be awake to the complexities of each and every situation. There are no simple answers; there are no quick fixes, no right answers, just lived truth, renewed in each inhalation and exhalation. Perhaps if we can begin again in each moment and see with fresh eyes, we might be more open to seeing wisdom and compassion in the most unlikely of places. “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few” (Rabinowitz, 1999: 15).
Mindfulness is a practice, not a package or program to be adopted. Practiced as a way of being, mindfulness offers a possibility of “dwelling, moment by moment, in a state of mind that cradles you in a non-judgmental and compassionate wisdom” (Williams and Penman, 2011: 193). I wonder what early years care and education might look like if we each brought non-judgmental and compassionate wisdom to each and every encounter we have with children, families, communities, colleagues, and ourselves.
Practicing mindfulness, being truly present, aware, and open in each and every lived moment brings a form of wisdom to our encounters that might not otherwise be available to us. My dear friend and mentor David Geoffrey Smith (2008) has written, “Education must be oriented not by knowledge and knowledge accumulation per se, but by wisdom” (p.46). Wisdom, however, that cannot necessarily be planned for, practiced, or rehearsed in advance, but rather wisdom that comes from simply truly showing up.
John Kay (2010) in his discussion of obliquity points out that evolution and adaptation have resulted in amazing phenomenon that no amount of thinking, planning, researching, documenting, and the like could have possibly come up with. He writes, “If the environment is uncertain, imperfectly understood and constantly changing, the product of a process of adaptation and evolution may be better adapted to that environment than the product of conscious design” (p.153). If this way of seeing the world is applied to our work with young children, families, communities, and colleagues, most certainly what we encounter is a continually shifting and uncertain field. In fact we often say how it is so refreshing to work with young children because you never know what they are going to come up with. That being the case, then perhaps we would be better off to plan less (doing) and be present more (being). Kay also wisely states, “Happiness is where you find it, not where you go looking for it” (p.23). Too often, however, we fail to see the happiness before us because it is not on the schedule we are following.
One final consideration with respect to mindfulness and wisdom is the notion of intuition. In our work with people from cultural backgrounds different from the Euro-American culture from which dominant early childhood theory and pedagogy originates, they can bring to us deep wisdom and insight if we allow a place for their indigenous funds of knowledge to arise (González et al., 2005). Kay (2010) suggests, “Instincts and intuitions are not voices in the air. They are the expression of finely honed, well-developed skills” (p.164). It would seem that in our striving to legitimize early years care and education through scientifically verifiable testing and measurement we have lost the instinct and intuition that has long been the hallmark of adult–child nurturing relationships.
Being heartful
Responding from the heart, from a place of deep compassion and empathy is central to a wide range of spiritual traditions. In the wisdom traditions of the East, however, there is a unique layer to this way of compassionate being. Compassion, heartfully being present in each moment, in each situation, does not come from a place full of desire or expectation to change the way things are; rather it comes from a place of emptiness, a place of deep abiding nothingness. It is only when we strip away the conventions, the perceived correct way to act; when we drop the image of a good person, then we can truly respond from the heart. The dreams and projections we have about life must be abandoned so we can be truly open to what lies within (Ming-Dao, 1992: 2).
Nell Noddings (2004) has stated, “When we care, we are touched by the other and expect to touch him [sic]. We enter into a relation with the student, but that relation need not be one of interference or control” (p.51). To bring heartfulness to our pedagogical encounters means assuming a posture of reciprocity, not one of interference or control. Whereas too often in early years care and education, because those to whom we relate are so young, we assume our care is one-sided, that we have a responsibility to care that supersedes the relational encounter and in so doing deny the other the opportunity to experience true heartful presence. Heartfulness is a way of being more than it is an act, and being heartfully present with young children means allowing them to be wholly capable and competent, compassionate, mindful, and heartful people. Ashis Nandy (1987) points out, “The final test of our skill to live a bicultural or multicultural existence may still be our ability to live with our children in mutuality” (p.75).
Quite some time ago, I heard Beth Perry (2003, 2005, 2009), a palliative nursing care specialist, talk about the significance of simple gestures and shared shadows in relationships of care. Shadows, not in the sense of the dark side, but rather shadows in the sense of a light touch, a passing by, a brief encounter, a lending of support. By gestures, she means such things as a handshake, a touch, physical presence, listening, and giving space and time. She considers sharing shadows and gestures ways of encountering our interdependence and joint transcendence. She also writes of the significance of both silence and the sharing of stories. Her point being that it is through everyday acts of kindness and living each moment as a caring act, that compassion is shared.
Central in coming to live heartfully with others is first and foremost to do so in relation to the self (Thich Nhat Hanh, 2012).
A great deal of chaos in the world occurs because people don’t appreciate themselves. Having never developed sympathy or gentleness towards themselves, they cannot experience harmony or peace within themselves, and therefore, what they project to others is also inharmonious and confused. (Trungpa, 1984: 35)
Bringing heartfulness to the self is for many the focus of much genuine soul searching through many and various methods; it is also part and parcel of a multi-million dollar self-help industry. While coming to know and love the self is an individual and personal act, looking toward seeing ourselves as intricately connected with all there is, ever has been and ever will be, as is suggested if one takes an ecological view of life, is the place we take our deliberations next.
Being ecological
“The further we extend our care and communion outside ourselves, the more realistic we become about our own life, so tiny yet glistening within the cosmos” (Fleischman, 1997: 3). For my adult students and for myself, seeing each individual as but a mere speck in the cosmos could in fact add more despondency, although I would like to suggest that allowing ourselves to be enveloped by the vastness in which we dwell, and the wonder that we are here at all, knowing that for every action, there is a reaction, might help us to see that we can make a difference. Vaealiki and Mackey (2008) call this ripples of action.
It is recorded that Einstein cautioned against an individualistic view of life, calling this way of being an optical delusion. “This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us” (taken from Williams and Penman, 2011: 207–208). He goes on to say that we need to free ourselves of this prison by “widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty”. Nsamenang (2007) offers, “If we could see people as a community or part of nature of which we are part, we might begin to relate to them with concern and respect” (p.43).
David Jardine (1990, 2000) adopts the term ecopedagogy and suggests that education based on the Enlightenment approach is focused on severance and disintegration; ecopedagogy, on the other hand, takes root in conviviality and harmony (see Wallin, 2006, for a comprehensive look at Jardine’s contributions). The further term, ecopsychology, suggests that as a species it is not possible for us to maintain emotional health if we are not connected to the Earth (Louv, 2008; Roszak, 1993). Whatever term we choose to adopt, we live and breathe as one in this cosmos yet each of us is a unique person. How do we create a loving, open, and caring world? Something must be touched at the core of our existence. Acknowledging our collectivity and the common spirit of our being somehow seems key (Thondup, 2000).
Every aspect of our world, both known and unknown, is interconnected. We experience the transcendental and the earthly in our daily living. The world is in us and we are in the world. I am who I am because of the world around me. The world around me is as it is because I am part of it. If I cease to exist the world no longer exists as it is; it is forever changed. So too, I cease to be who I am when any one aspect of my life-world changes. All things living and dead are inseparably intertwined. Thich Nhat Hahn (2012) refers to this as the condition of interbeing (p.61ff).
Living ecologically, in harmony one with another, is a common theme in the writings of David G Smith (2003, 2006, 2008). I owe him a debt of gratitude for notions such as the following: you and I are inseparably interconnected and so it is in knowing you that I come to better know myself; that true knowledge can only be found in the in-betweenness of our encounters; and the greatest gift of the many technological advances of our world is that we know so much about the whole world, not just our small part of it, and as such we cannot walk away from our individual responsibility for the whole. The thing is, he would not feel that I owe him anything, for to be together in this small moment in the vast history of the cosmos is simply the way it is meant to be.
Conclusion
To conclude, in homage to the important place we give sensory learning in the early years, it is significant to acknowledge that everything said, done, or felt resides in our bodies. Written within and upon our bodies is every experience of our lifetime. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we embody where we have come from every minute of every day. I believe as a co-learner in early years care and education it is important to find connections between our collective past and our present in order to make conscious choices about our future. Who we are, where we have come from, what we have embodied, what we presently embody, effects who we are with children, families, communities, and colleagues. To remain unconscious is to surely perpetuate emotionally unhealthy patterns in our relational encounters. Being mindful, heartful, and ecological can be a way of life that brings healing to self and to others and prepares us for whatever the universe brings our way. “We have to weave our parachute every day, so that it’s always there to hold us in an emergency” (Williams and Penman, 2011: 241).
I fear, however, that we will never know the full extent of our capabilities as a species if we continue to dominate and suppress our own as well as others’ ways of being. We are incomplete as individuals. We are incomplete as a society. We are incomplete as people, unless we value each one’s contribution. If we were somehow able to connect with all that is we would then approach completeness. A deeply held concern I have is that it is becoming increasingly impossible to become whole as we continually loose the heart and soul of peoples and cultures as Euro-American culture dominates, a concern particularly prevalent in early years care and education.
Fear may be one factor in our urge to dominate, but money, profit, and greed also play a part. According to history books, the period of Colonialism and Imperialism may have passed, but capitalism, free enterprise, free trade, and globalization, all new facets of colonialism and imperialism, are alive and well. The West is still taking over and dominating other cultures, not so much through militarism but rather through materialism and the invasion of modern life and development. The West, although in fact the minority of the world, believes it holds all the advances, all the conveniences, without which other peoples cannot possibly live. The minority world wanting other nations to have these Western conventions, I believe, is not wholly altruistic but rather too often based on self-centered egotistical financial gain.
The story goes that a grandparent upon seeing their grandchild engaged in a battle of wills with the family donkey intervened saying,
Try it this way: take the rope loosely in your hand like this, then stand very close and look down the track in the direction you want to go. Then wait. To the child’s delight within moments child and donkey were heading side-by-side down the track. (Williams and Penman, 2011: 111)
I believe we do want to set a direction with the young children in our lives, but not through force, coercion, domination, or one right-way thinking. The direction I deem needs to be determined in relationships of reciprocity, generosity, kindness, and be deeply rooted in contextually relevant values, beliefs, and practices. Relationships of close contact, and quiet, steady, mindful presence will ultimately bring joyful movement in all our lives.
Now is the moment to embark on a new form of critical thinking, a new form of action: action that embodies mindfulness, heartfulness, and ecological living; indeed, I might even add at this point, a new way of being in the world where hope resides at the centre.
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
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Author biography
Darcey M Dachyshyn teaches in the School of Early Childhood at Seneca College of Applied Arts & Technology. Her teaching and research interests focus on interculturalism and how indigenous ways of being hybridize and intersect with globalization.
