Mystics, Gurus, and Mentors

Teachers and Crayons

by Michael Dolan

Śrīdhara Mahārāja makes it clear that a teacher’s work is distinct from that of a mystic.

Mystics don’t teach.

Teaching involves many disciplines.

One must not only be erudite in the material; one must have the willingness to expose one’s self to newcomers and beginners who will challenge everything.

Teaching involves ego.

In Sanskrit there is a special word for this: it’s called “acharya-abhiman.” It means “Teacher-ego.”

Humans are social animals. We have natural compassion. When we see someone lost, we want to show them the way.

But if someone is lost and we point out the right direction, we are taking the position of teacher. “It’s this way,” we say, but there is ego involved.

Here in Mexico I often see tourists on the street corner consulting a map. I’m tempted to intervene and say, “Are you lost? Let me help you. It’s this way.” But I have learned to stay out of it. I have realized over the years that these tourists have paid a lot of money to be lost. They’ve gone through the trauma of buying tickets online, reserving hotels, going through security checks and flying to a foreign country just to savor this exact moment: they have no idea where they are. This is what they paid for; the delightful sense of not knowing exactly where you are. Who am I to destroy the moment for them? Why should I try to guide someone who enjoys being lost?

But sometimes the situation is more drastic and the only compassionate solution is to take on the role of teacher. And in that role, sometimes we need to insist that the student accepts guidance.

I have noticed there is a big difference between four years old and five years old. Developmental Psychologist Jean Piaget specialized in noting these differences. Piaget's theory of cognitive development suggests that children move through four different stages of mental development. His theory focuses not only on understanding how children acquire knowledge, but also on understanding the nature of intelligence. There’s a big distinction between what he calls “sensory-motor” development that occupies children mostly between 2 and 4 years old, and what he calls “pre-operational” development that begins between 3 and 7 years old.

Older children do not just think more quickly than younger children, he suggested. Instead, there are both qualitative and quantitative differences between the thinking of young children versus older children. Piaget divides these differences in stages and gradations.

During the so-called “sensory-motor” stage, which is the earliest stage of cognitive development, infants and toddlers acquire knowledge through sensory experiences and manipulating objects. Children go through a period of dramatic growth and learning. As kids interact with their environment, they are continually making new discoveries about how the world works.

They are learning about important things like mother and father and red and blue and rain. They are learning the difference between rice, oatmeal, and rubber cement. They are learning that Daddy loves Mommy but sometimes they get angry. They are learning that Uncle Roger is not Darth Vader and that Aunt Molly smells like onions and red wine.

In this stage of life, they are not concerned with symbol systems. Symbols have no meaning. They cannot comprehend the value of the alphabet or written numbers. Remember that most adults were illiterate up to the middle ages and in many societies even today reading is forbidden. So letters have absolutely no meaning for children.

What I’m getting at is that 4-year old kids always eat the crayons. I’ve seen countless mothers drop off their children in the kindergarten where I used to work. After two weeks they would ask if little Orlando could read yet. They knew little Orlando was a genius on the level of Einstein or Mozart. When I advised patience, they would get angry. How long would it take?

Remember that as a civilization, collectively, it took thousands of years to get to the point where most people could read. But leaving that aside, 4 year old children as a rule have no interest in reading. They are too busy learning about reality at the sensory-motor level to care about symbolic operations.

But as a teacher it was my duty to accept the 4-year old kids in the same classroom as the 5,6, and 7 year olds who were doing pretty well with operations. They knew their numbers and colors in English and liked to sing songs, dance the Hokey Pokey, play tag and draw pictures with crayons. 4-year olds, however, really don’t get crayons at first. It takes a few sessions. And in the first session, they always try to eat the crayons.

So, as a teacher, it’s my duty to tell them, “Don’t eat the crayons.” Of course, you’re not supposed to do that, since it uses negative language. You’re supposed to say, “Crayons are for coloring,” which is positive language. But in practice, it works out to “Get that out of your mouth, now.” But as soon as you get the red crayon out of their mouth, they’re on to the green one. They’re convinced that the green crayon will taste better than the red one. It doesn’t. They both taste something like salty clay. I know.

My point is that any teacher must face the problem of when and how to give instruction. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever taught kindergarten, but children resist having crayons removed from their mouths. They like to bite. But what they are really saying is, “Who are you to teach me?”

Acharya-abhiman is when the teacher says, “I’m the teacher. I know what’s good for you. Crayons are not good for you. Get that out of your mouth.”

But any act of teaching involves a certain presumption that “Teacher knows best.” The highest mystics, the ultimate teachers, the uttama-adhikaris make no such presumptions. They see the world as perfectly balanced since they live in samādhi, perfect balance. Dhi means intelligence, sobriety, wisdom. samā means same-ness, balance. Samādhi is seen differently by different yoga groups, but in a clinical sense it means perfect balance. To see the world in perfect balance. A true mystic is already there. A teacher knows what balance is and is interested in showing you how it works. A mystic sees even your imbalance as part of the over-all harmony and feels no need to teach. When I see a lost tourist I know he is experiencing the joy of being lost, which leads to the joy of discovery. If I show him where he is he will lose forever the moment when he turned around and realized exactly where he was. I will destroy his moment of discovery. This is an unnecessary act of violence. Also, since I am a Gringo, a “white” American man, any information I might provide will humiliate the lost gringo. He would far rather practice his broken Spanish with a native who will tell him, “Turn around. It’s right there,” which will lead to a beautiful friendship.

Sometimes the “teacher-ego” is unnecessary. We can let people find their own way.

But a spiritual guide is one who knows the way to higher truth. In a world of the blind, his vision, however imperfect, stands out. He can lead the blind. He can guide the lost. And once he becomes a guide, he cannot abdicate. The blind and the lost will seek him out. So it is that sometimes great mystics who have no interest in teaching become teachers. Some mystics have enough compassion to say, “Don’t eat the crayons,” and soon become trapped in the position of teachers.

Other teachers are on a mission: “Come with me to the promised land,” they say. “It’s over there. Leave everything and follow me.”

It is always risky to follow teachers. They may lead us down the wrong path. But after a certain amount of experience, one may be able to recognize what the right path should look like. And if one goes too far on the wrong path, one has to turn around.

I asked Śrīdhar Mahārāja about this and he told me that it was something like riding a train. Sometimes it happens that when we’re in a hurry or we don’t know the way we get on the wrong train. But if we count the stops and pay attention, we will understand that we’re going in the wrong direction. At that time, we need to get off the train and change course. We need to seek out the train that goes back in the right direction.

Here in Mexico there’s a popular book called “Ingles sin Maestro” which teaches people to speak English without a teacher. I have never known this method to succeed. But then again it is difficult to make progress without listening to the master. I know this for a fact, for I am particularly stubborn and resistant to any advice.

I am determined to do things the hard way. The other day I took a minor problem with a quarter-turn tap in the kitchen and turned it into a major plumbing catastrophe. Armed only with a screw-driver and a pair of pliers I turned the kitchen into a flood zone that would make the victims of Hurricane Katrina shake their heads and cry. “Do-it-yourself” is often a one-way ticket to disaster. Teachers can show you an easier way. It took the plumber 20 minutes and a 20 peso piece of plastic to fix the problem.

But it’s hard to listen to the experts. Which is why we still eat the crayons. Blue is my favorite. But don't eat the blue crayons.