(Copyright © 2009 Stuart Rice)

The definition of education is “the process of receiving or giving systematic instruction” and an education is “giving moral, intellectual, or social instruction.”  Both derive from the Latin educare, which means “lead out.”  Regardless of the type of education we either receive or propose to provide to others, leadership is at the heart of the education.  How we lead determines whether or not the process inherent to education is successful for the ourselves and others.

In my burgeoning career as a member of the career college community, I have had the honor to serve both as a faculty member and as a leader (first at the program manager level and subsequently at the director level).   As a new faculty member, I had the good fortune to work under a very supportive director and campus president.  Both  felt very strongly  that the role of the faculty was (and is) to assist in the student in achieving career success, as well as personal maturation.  While it took me some time to appreciate this role, I can now concretely understand how important the “personal maturation” aspect of our role is.

There is, however, one challenge with this role: how can or should we accomplish it?  In my mind, it is a different onus altogether to assist our students in personal maturation.  For most of my instructors, as it was for me, the initial view is that the role of the faculty is to teach.  To teach, regardless of its formal definition, often means to deliver information that we then expect the student to learn.  To learn is to be able to utilize the information both within its received context and—within reason—in novel ones.  To teach someone to enter medical record information, take blood pressure, or to give a massage is a concrete skills that can be evaluated objectively.  Success in this aspect can be measured.  But how do we teach someone “to mature”?

The definition of maturing is growth in one or more dimensions of life: social, mental, spiritual, etc.  But the essence of maturation is transformation.  To mature, a tree must take the elements surrounding it—earth, water, sunlight, wind, and air—and change them, through its own processes, into usable tools for growth.  A tree is endowed at birth with the structures and tools to achieve this; otherwise, it quickly withers and dies.  Human beings are much the same, in that we must take what our environment gives us and transform it into something useful.  The challenge is that, unlike the tree, people required nourishment in dimensions below those of survival.  We require, according to Maslowe and others, elements such as beauty, purpose, and internal drive to strive for greater things.  Without these, we begin to wither as individuals and, over time, feel ourselves relegated to role of automaton within our own lives; or, perhaps worse, as a battery used to empower the lives of others.

While the career school or college literature suggests that our role is changing, we remain the choice of many people who view jobs as work rather than as a venue for engaging and evolving their best qualities and ideals.  Hence, they seek “job training,” and we may very well be—although we may not like to admit it—“just” giving them job training.  At our best though, we strive to give our students a perspective that allows them to see themselves in a new light.  But to do this, we must transform our students.  Which brings us back to our previous question: how do we teach someone to mature?  How do we teach some to transform?

Teaching transformation is a top-down process that must be a lived philosophy and reality for leadership, the faculty, and then the students.  Therefore, the only way to transform the lives of our students is to be engaged in the process ourselves at a leadership level.  The remainder of this article will look at the ways in which we can implement a model of transformational leadership within our own communities.

The “ground” for transformation is the five key dimensions in which we can experience change in our lives.  I show these five elements in Figure 1 below.  The physical dimension of wellness corresponds to our self of well-being and stability within our body.  This can mean freedom from disease, a sense of the body’s ability to perform in response to our demands, and self-esteem regarding our physical appearance.  The emotional dimension of wellness corresponds to a recognition of our emotional state by those around us.  The ability to express emotion and to have that expression recognized by others, without judgment or evaluation is a critical component of well-being, even more so than being “understood.”  The psychological dimension corresponds to the preponderance of satisfaction, stability, and consistency.  This same concept can be expressed, in the negative, as the absence of anger, fear, and doubt; however, it is more important that the positive expression of this exist since a leader can actively achieve this.  The intellectual dimension corresponds to the fulfillment of cognitive needs for development and expansion, as well as appropriate challenging of staid and outmoded models of thinking.  Intellectual growth demands appropriately delivered challenges to modes of thinking, particularly those that are motivated by the other aspects of the model.  Finally, the spiritual dimension involves the development of a sense of purpose and the unification of our moment-by-moment narrative with that purpose.  While seemingly the sole purview of religious or “spiritual” practice, tending to the spiritual is perhaps the most important function of the leader.

In each of these definitions, I emphasize particular elements.  These emphasized points correspond to the key elements of the transformational leader, which can be delivered as 5 descriptive statements. These five descriptive statements are:

The transformational leader…

1. 1. Tends to physical health through effective techniques to maintain or expand the scope of physical ability;
2. 2. Recognizes the emotional livelihood of herself as a prerequisite to acknowledging the emotional lives of others;
3. 3. Maintains an internal sense of satisfaction, stability, and consistency through timely recognition and integration of new information in light of these values;
4. 4. Embraces the unknown and uncomfortable as the ground for rapid and lasting growth; and,
5. 5. Persists in her role because it is synonymous with her internal vision of herself.

To these five statements we can add—once they are internally achieved—“and helps others do they same.”

The vehicle for embodying—not achieving—these statements is an active practice of self-reflection and self-examination in relation to them.  Therefore, the first action for the transformational leader is to engage this practice on a consistent basis.  Because self-reflection is most effective when the leader uses a structured process, the following grid can give shape and support to that effort.

<insert question grid here>

When performing self-reflection, particularly one in which we rank or measure ourselves, two missteps are fairly common. The first is that we forget that this is self­-reflection.  No one is evaluating our performance, and no one else will read this.  Forgetting that we are self-reflecting can lead us to view our processes as better than they are because we are afraid that we are being evaluated.  The second is that we become overly critical with ourselves and view our work poorly because we become mired in the mentality: “I could have done better.”  There is nothing wrong with the statement—in fact, that statement is critical to self-improvement.  However, it can also be used as a shield to allow us to exist in sustained mediocrity in relation to our potential.  This is not acceptable to the transformational leader.

Based on this, the first recommendation for creating a culture of transformational leadership is to commit, as a leader, to a sustainable process of self-reflection.  The transformational leader documents this process so that there is awareness of, and respect for, the personal growth and the changing nature of self-perception.  When a leader commits to self-reflection, he or she inherently grows all dimensions of the self.

Self-reflection, while valuable, must also lead to action.  Consequently, the next stage of transformational leadership must be concrete action within the five dimensions that we can actively change.  These concrete actions are highly variable, but any action should be linked to the specific aspects of the self-reflection.  Since most of us are familiar with the elements of physical wellness—even though we may avoid it!—we will take a look at actions within the emotional and psychological dimensions.

All human beings have an emotional core.  The emotional core consists of the range of internally expressible emotions that each of us can experience.  For example, most people have an internal emotional states that we label “anger,” “happiness,” or “joy.”  However, each of us can experience those internal emotions in different ways, to different degrees, and at different levels of visibility.  In response to the same situation or stimulation, a person may experience “compassion” with tearful eyes or a wide smile; in a way that makes them feel suffused with the sensation or localized to a specific place; and may have a very demonstrative display or a very subdued.

Regardless of how we express, it is important that our emotional state is fully and authentically expressed.   Importantly, the transformation leader does not deny or suppress the emotional core of his or her leadership.  Stoicism is not a virtue in transformational leadership.  Instead, an authenticity regarding emotional reaction is critical.  In his work developing non-violent communication, psychologist and communication expert Marshall Rosenberg places incredible importance on this point.  Being able to identify our own internal states is a critical first process in dialoguing with others in a way that takes into account emotion.  Identifying and positioning emotions, particularly in critical dialogues, can dramatically increase their effectiveness without becoming maudlin or mawkish.

Therefore, the first action in relationship to emotion is to develop an awareness of:

1. The way in which we express or suppress emotion;
2. The degrees to which situations invoke our emotional response; and,
3. That way in which we externally express or suppress our emotional state.

The “answers” to these areas can be in the following form:

1. I really try to suppress my feeling of anger.
2. I get angry when a person who I don’t feel knows something “fakes” an answer.
3. I suppress this emotion by crossing my arms and biting my lip.

While this exercise may feel difficult or hokey, the lack of emotional awareness can play a huge role in why we either resist situations or have difficulty in handling them.  Once we become aware of our own emotional core, we can then interact authentically with others.

In the area of psychological awareness, it is important to scope the area of inquiry.  This is neither “pop psychology” or “therapy.”  Rather, it is deeper mental questions and issues.  The idea brought up above was the “preponderance of satisfaction, stability, and consistency.”  Like the emotional area, this can be difficult to investigate.  There is an old Zen phrase regarding meditation: “The mind cannot polish the mind.”  It often challenging for us to ask questions about ourselves, particularly something that connects to our fundamental ability to experience a state of being.  Satisfaction, stability, and consistency are states of being. To assist in this process, we can look at the following brainstorming questions:

1. What does the term “stable” mean for you?
2. How do you feel in the situations that are the opposite of this term?
3. What does it mean for you to be satisfied?
4. How do you achieve satisfaction in your daily life? in your work life?
5. How would you define consistency?  What does it look like?
6. How do you experience consistency in your daily life?

What may come up in response is an amalgam of different types of words, cutting across multiple areas of life: physical, emotional, social, etc.  Importantly, do not censor these thoughts as they come up.  While avoiding any forcing, try to exhaust your thoughts on the subject.  Then, examine the list.  Is there anything that surprises you? seems inconsistent?  Again, don’t cross out the things that don’t seem to fit.  These are all valuable insights.

Based on your definition lists, begin to connect the things in your daily personal and professional life with this list.  How much parity or disparity is there between your list and your experience of everyday life?  What concrete decisions and actions could you take to make changes that would improve your sense of stability, satisfaction, and consistency?

Using these three dimensions as a starting point, the potential transformational leader can begin the process of self-reflection and self-examination.  From this self-reflection and self-examination we can begin to develop our own internal and external process of transformation.  From this seed,  we can begin to transform the organizations and people around us.

Pictures for this day: Set 1 | Set 2

There’s a saying that goes something like: “It’s just like riding a bike; once you learn, you never forget.” I would like to, from personal experience, question the validity of that statement. I have discovered that you can indeed forget how to ride a bike, and that this forgetting can, awkwardly, occur when you are visiting a small southeast Asian country whose capital is Phnom Penh.

Ahem.

I ended yesterday at 1:00 in the afternoon. I feel asleep quite deeply and woke up feeling refreshed at 12:30 AM. While I am sure there are things to do at 12:30 AM in Siem Reap, I was not prepared to try them. Determined to return to sleep, I rolled over and willed myself into sleep, clearly demonstrating my own lack of adherence to the yoga principles I teach. If any of my students are reading this, remember: you cannot relax the mind with the mind! Since poor beginnings usually have poor endings, I could not get back to sleep. I arose from bed at around 2:00 AM and decided to use the clarity of mind associated with the morning hour to do some writing on raja yoga. For those who are wondering why I am doing this, it is for a workbook for a yoga immersion I am teaching in Lodi in 2009. I am also planning on doing said immersion in Sacramento, and am available to teach it anywhere else on the planet as well. Shameless plug ends here.

At around 4:30 I decided I would do the tourist thing and head to Angkor Wat to watch the sunrise. Now, if you read my somewhat acerbic post yesterday, you will know that I was a tad disenchanted with Siem Reap upon first looks. In response to my burgeoning awareness that I would be at the mercy of men with motorbikes for the rest of the journey, I decided to check on a bicycle rental for the remainder of my trip. I enquired at the front desk regarding one, and the very friendly front desk attendant told me that it would cost $5 a day. Having consulted Lonely Planet, who indicated $1 – $2 at most, I decided to raise this point. I was told that I would be “insured” if I paid for the bike. Hmmmm. Well, I quickly did the Siem Reap/Angkor Wat math in my head. $2 per moto ride. At the very least that would equate to $4 a day. So, for one more dollar, I could have complete freedom, and I would also get some exercise. I opted to say yes to the bicycle.

So at 4:45 AM, I stepped outside my room and requested my bicycle. Once again, I had a vision of a new Giant or Schwinn bike being paraded around like a prized horse. Instead, I was presented with a rather flimsy road bike. My exotic travel persona was not pleased. But freedom doesn’t have to look pretty-it just has to be free (or $5)-so I hopped on and started to bike. Much to my horror, I almost fell off. This was humiliating! So proud of my attempts to be both eco-conscious and blend in with the Khmer people; now I was just “that humiliated white guy.” I cursed the person who said that riding a bike was something that could not be forgotten. Finally, I got my bike legs and started off towards Angkor Wat.

While I realized that it was dark-I was going to see the sunrise at Angkor, after all-I had not realized that darkness also meant “not able to see the road.” Within town, local lights cast a good light to ride by. But by the time I started to head out of town, I realized that it was pitch black out there. Fortunately, many cars and tuk tuks were heading out to the temple, so I could ride by their artificial light. I arrived at the crossroads at which one turns left to get to Angkor without incident. Feeling overly secure, I then almost lost it into a ditch immediately at the turn off to Angkor. Deprecating myself to anyone who could hear, I got myself right and headed off to Angkor.

I suppose its worth mentioning that during this entire ride, I felt entirely safe. The interesting thing about driving in Cambodia is that everyone knows that there are no rules. Consequently, everyone is paying attention, and has a kind of internal sense of when to go and when to slow down. Everything flows with a kind of grace; go with it, and everything is fine. I had noticed this flow from the back of motos, and so now I just went with it.

I arrived at Angkor with no incident, and locked my bike onto a pole. An idea that it might not be there when I got back did cross my mind, but I didn’t really worry about it. I started to head towards the temple, enjoying the nascent dawn starting to outline the towers. I wandered across the causeway, and immediately walked over to the statue of Vishnu. Three young boys were there, and their faces looked quite a bit surprised at my presence, particularly when I fell to my knees and pressed my palms into anjali mudra. I closed my eyes and simply sat in the presence of Vishnu. One of the boys cleared his throat, and so I opened my eyes. He offered me to take some incense. He mimed the movement of the incense, “One. Two. Three.” I took three of the sticks and moved them in the appropriate fashion, before placing them into the pot. I continued to kneel there in prayer, which I think also surprised them. As I sat there, I felt the emotions beginning to rise again. However, I also knew that I was in a prime movement zone for tourists, so I moved to the corner of the room and folded my legs into sukhasana and meditated with my eyes closed.

As I sat there, I began to feel the tears rising in my eyes. Across my chest I felt a familiar band of tension. I continued to sit with it, feeling nothing in particular, but aware of the rising and falling of something inside of me. At one point, the youngest boy-I felt it to be the youngest boy because my eyes were closed-started to sing. I had no idea if he was reciting a Buddhist prayer or singing a pop song, but I felt myself starting cry harder and harder. My eyes were closed, but I was sure both the three young boys (and the tourists) were somewhat astounded by the sight of this Westerner, sitting cross-legged in the corner of a room, meditating and weeping. As I sat, my thoughts rose and fell, moving from the banal to fragment of chants to Vishnu in his incarnation of Rama, and the associated incarnations of Sita and Hanuman. From time to time, streams of tears would flow down my cheeks, and would then ebb.

After awhile, I opened my eyes. One of the young boys smiled at me, and I smiled back. I continued to gaze upon Vishnu. One of the boys, dressed in a saffron robe, sat in the window sill, the left side of his face covered by part of his covering. A Buddhist nun swept the floor with a broom, stooped over, her brown face shriveled, but kind. Eventually I stood up, two of the children still watching me. I went over to the feet of Vishnu, and rubbed the dust from his feet on my forehead three times and then took my hands to my heart. This is gesture that I adopted from watching others, and from the ancient wisdom that says that we polish our hearts with dust from our guru’s feet. I left the chamber and walked out into the area of the main walkway.

As I stood there, I understood what I was looking for coming here. I was looking to be cracked open. People close to me know that I consider myself a bhakti yogin. I am drawn to the path of loving the divine, and using the stories of Hanuman, Sita, and Ram, and the kirtan and chanting as a way to achieve yoga. Inside, I often feel so deeply moved by the chanting that I hear that it draws tears to my eyes. I remember weeping loudly when talking with Patrick early in our relationship about my desire to be like Hanuman, and how short I fell of his wondrous and deep devotion and love to God. As I sat there in the presence of Vishnu, I could feel the familiar tightness around my heart-a hardness that has lived there for some time. I know that this space inside of me is this great well of emotion held back by a dam that I never remember building but that I think has been there for many years. I so wanted it to burst, to feel inside of myself anything, anything at all akin to that deep longing and ocean of love that I sing to, read about, and try to connect with. What I felt when that young boy sung was a purity and innocence that I longed to feel inside, that could unleash the greatness of my heart so that I could love more deeply and longer than I had ever before.

I joined the meandering tourists, walking quietly to the room of 1000s buddhas. When I was there yesterday, I had noticed the large statue of buddha in that room, and I wanted to pay homage. When I arrived, I went over to the statue and kneeled down. A young boy and Buddhist nun sat there; the young boy watching me, and the nun preparing the space. I pressed my hands into anjali mudra, and kneeled in quiet. After a few minutes, I felt a desire to chant “Om Mani Padme Hum.” I unwound my mala from my wrist, and did 108 repetitions of the chant, after which I chanted “gate gate paragate parasamgate boddhi swaha,” a traditional mantra associated with the Buddha.

After I opened my eyes, I proceeded to try to light some incense. The nun took them from me gently and lit them for me, and then gave them back to me. I performed that same gesture as I did at Vishnu, and then placed them in the sand. She then grabbed another incense stick, lit it, and handed it to me with a smile, her brown cheeks shining and her eyes filled with what I felt to be great kindness. I took the proffered incense with gratitude, and waved it over me a few times, and then placed it in the sand. I then bowed down to the earth, and got up. As I walked the young boy watched me with an intention that I could not interpret. I wandered out into the sunlight and into the grassy area that separated the main building from the outermost square that held the large bas relief panels. I spent some time scaling into the small buildings in this area, deciding to take some pictures of the various carvings and statues.

Angkor Wat has several recurring architectural themes. One of them is apsaras, heavenly nymphs. One might jokingly call Angkor Wat “Apsara Village” for they are everywhere. There is also images of flames, often with a picture of meditating holy man (called an essai). These flames are there to purify pilgrims who walk through the temples. I wandered through, viewing the carvings, and stopping to investigate some that held particular interest for me. I was viewing them mostly for inspiration for yoga, but their body positions were relatively constant: caught mid-dance in a position that reminded me of something from the Bharatha Natyam. I wandered the halls, taking pictures.

Eventually, I made my way to the bas-relief walls. These walls are extended depictions of scenes from Vedic myth, with one wall given over the life and times of the ancient Khmer ruler who built the temple. I found images of my beloved Hanuman holding his friend Rama in his battle against Ravana. I also found Hanuman helping Churn the Ocean of Milk. I was disappointed to not see Lakshmi popping out of the ocean, but I might have missed it. The iconography is very similiar to Vedic art, but not precisely. Hanuman, in particular, looks a little bit fiercer, and less human, then in the Hindu representations. I found Yama, the lord of the dead, and the depictions of heaven and hell, and a scene from the Mahabharata, where the Pandava and Kaurava armies clashed on the field of Kurukshetra. It would be impossible in one short viewing to notice all the details in that temple, so I didn’t try. I would undoubtedly be going back, so I wanted to enjoy the overall sweep of the images.

I spent a couple of hours at Angkor before deciding to set off up the road to locate the next temple. My bike was right where I left it, and so with a light heart, I hopped on. I definitely enjoy the freedom of having a bike! I headed off to Bayon and Baphuon. The directions were well marked, and so I was off at a good clip to the temples. As enjoyable as walking was, bike riding was many times better. As I got closer to the temple, I noticed the opportunity for a elephant rides, traditional way of entering Bayon and Baphuon. Making a mental note for later, I rode into the temple complex.

Compared to Angkor Wat, Baphuon looks like a ruin. I jokingly said to myself that it looked under construction. I wasn’t planning on stopping that morning, so I just rode around the temple. There were some beautiful, enormous Buddha statues in the area that I admired from my bicycle. I looped back and through, heading back towards Angkor Wat and town.

It was during this return trip that I discovered the one downside of biking-the incredible pollution from cars and motorbikes. I have never had a problem with breathing before, but I could feel my lungs starting to get a little constricted from breathing the carbon monoxide fumes, and the smoke from burning leaves and cooking fires. A nascent headache started as well, perhaps as much from sunburn and dehydration as the pollution. Nevertheless, I had an easy and enjoyable ride back to town, and returned to Hanumanalaya for breakfast.

Having brave as much sun as I wanted to get that day, I decided to relax at the hotel and get some writing done. One of the other things I realized the previous day was that I needed to slow down. I was so concerned about running out of things to do and see that I forgot that I had the option of just doing nothing. This, in a way, was strangely liberating. Freed from a sense that I was wasting time or money by not doing everything that I could possibly do, I allowed myself to enjoy the solitude of my hotel room, and write about the ethical principles in raja yoga.

After a while, I decided to continue this experience poolside. After a few minutes, another guest that I had noticed over the last two days came over and sat down next to me. Her name was Marian (I think), and we had a wonderful discussion. She is Belgian, and a former flight attendant. This was her first trip to Cambodia, but she had been to both Kerala and Iceland, two places that I intensely want to visit. We chatted about her experience and my experience in Cambodia, and ended up having a far ranging chat about everything from racial and ethnic issues in Belgium and the US, her background in the airline industry, and a few other things. She introduced me to a very nice little drink-soda water and lime juice. Very tasty, and very refreshing. Our discussion ended when her food arrived, and she was off to learn how to dance like an Apsara.

I stayed poolside a little longer, until my battery ran down, and then headed back to my room, where I proceeded to finish up my writing on the five yamas. After that, I decided to head into downtown Siem Reap. I grabbed my bike and off I went. I had only a vague idea of how to get where I wanted to go, but I had Lonely Planet, so I was unafraid. I made one wrong turn, but figured out my mistake, and turned around, and headed off in the appropriate direction. Without much trouble I found my way to where I wanted to be. I rode around a bit, just to check out the area, and then settled at the Kama Sutra for dinner. A delicious mango lassi, chai, and chicken thali arrived without much delay. I ate facing the street, watching the tourists walk by. I must admit, I felt a sense of being an old salt as I watched them wander. These poor people, dependent on tuk tuks and motorbikes, wandering around trying to figure out what to do. I had to laugh at myself. I also had a chance to talk with an Indian gentlemen who appeared to be overseeing the restaurant (he was in fact the accountant). Turns out he was originally from Kerala. We chatted briefly about the beauty of Southern India, and then he melted back into the restaurant.

After dinner, I checked out the Blue Pumpkin, a shop filled with excellent sweets, pastries, and shakes. I didn’t buy anything-I was stuffed from dinner. So I hopped on my bicycle and headed back into town. Again, I had no idea where I was going, but I tried follow my memory of where my moto driver went yesterday. I made it back to Hanumanalaya without incident. And here I am now writing this entry.

Tomorrow will bring another morning with Vishnu and Buddha at Angkor Wat, and then on to Baphuon before the sunrise to investigate it. Then I think I will camp out in Siem Reap for the day, and enjoy the tourist watching, and writing about the niyamas. Perhaps too I will write the short section on preparing to begin a yoga practice. For now, however, I think I shall read a book, or listen to a podcast of Speaking of Faith. I started one this morning on the Buddha as radical social thinker. I might just finish that one tonight or hold off until tomorrow.

I arrived in Siem Reap at 9:40 PM, after an exhausting, but fascinating, stay in the Incheon Airport in Seoul, Korea.  Lesson learned from that experience: always carry a change of clothes with you, particularly when traveling internationally.  It turns out that there are showers and refreshening areas in the International Terminal, which would have been great for that 11 hour stay.  I don’t think there’s anyway around it, since leaving the International terminal would probably require me to get my luggage, and I don’t see myself navigating Seoul with a roller bag.  So, I idled away the time with reading, writing, and Caribou coffee.

When I arrived in Siem Reap, I worked with probably the slowest Customs agent I have ever had the opportunity to interact with.  Interact is a stretch, since no words were exchanged.  He just proceeded to take an action, then stop and scrutinize the documents I had given him, and then proceed onto the next agent.  One glacial moment after another led to me finally getting my luggage, and proceeding out of the airport.  I was immediately assaulted with several gentlemen offering me rides to-anywhere, I suppose.  However, Hanumanalaya, where I was staying, provided transport to the hotel, so I found the man holding my name and jumped in his car.  Exhausted, but now awake again thanks to my attempt to hold attention for two people at Customs, we arrived at Hanumanalaya.

First, I will say that Hanumanalaya is beautiful.  However, I will also say that my image of travel abroad got a slight shift.  Although I probably wouldn’t admit it before this trip, I imagined travel abroad to be this luxurious, mysterious experience.  It would be travel abroad if Baz directed it a la Moulin Rouge.  And while I suppose that if I were paying $200 a night I could have a completely shielded experience, I am not, and therefore, I am not.  That having been said, Cambodia is definitely NOT exotically sexy.  It is poor, dirty (by which I mean, both having lots of dirt and lots of trash everywhere), and confusing.  Cars, mopeds, and bikes share the road with no definitive sense of lanes.  People are constantly trying to push rides, postcards, or begging for something.  Anna and the King have fled the coop.

What I really mean is that I always have buyer’s remorse.  When I arrived at Hanumanalaya, I immediately asked myself, why I am spending all this money to stay here?  Lonely Planet guides point out that you can stay in Cambodia for as little as $3 US a night, and here I am paying 65.  Of course, I do have a pool, and breakfast is included (practically speaking, a $3 value), and the price includes all taxes, etc. (whatever those are).  My room is very nice, but it’s not King of Siam beautiful (where’s the gold fixtures?), and after my incredibly gracious front desk attendant left, I noticed a cockroach on the floor, turned on its back and making feeble attempts to flip over. (I subsequently named him Harvey, and as of this writing, Harvey is no longer in the room, removed, I assume, by the maid.  I miss him.)  The bathroom door was low enough that I smashed the top of my skull against it when I first walked in it.  The toilet is a shade of pink that has been outlawed by gay interior decorators due to the demise of the 1950s aesthetic in the United States (along with avocado and other shades of appliances).

So this is where I found myself.  I unpacked and got into bed. The mattress was so firm that it must have been filled with the Catholic church’s opinions on abortion, gay rights, and yoga.  Thanks to the ingenuity of my loving Patrick, I had a power converter, so I plugged in the laptop and got it charging, and turned on some soothing music to lull my nervous system into quietude.  Harvey continued is epic struggle against evolutions cruel turn regarding limb placement and a hard exoskeleton that made spinal rotation impossible.  Lights out, and I fell asleep, missing a 1:00 AM missive from Patrick.

I awoke at 4:30 AM, an incomprehensibly early time.  (It later occurred to me that, even thousands of miles away, my nervous system was attuned to the Wednesday morning class that I would be missing had I not woken up at 4:30.)  I decided to get up and get going, although I have no idea why.  I walked out of my room at 5:15 or so, and began to walk towards the Angkor Wat temples.  I had not planned to actually see them today-I was planning on spending the day relaxing poolside, and getting a massage.  As I walked, I received the distinct impression that it was a mode of transportation which the Khmer people viewed with the same horror and disbelief as they once did Pol Pot.  Personally, I prefer walking, since you see more of a place and feel and hear its rhythms.  This is complicated by the fact that, since no one walks, the din of motos and cards effectively disrupts any natural sounds.

After several stares and an occasional smile, a person finally stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride.  Mistaking this as a gesture of kindness, I got on his motorbike, and we were off at a substantially faster clip to Angkor Wat.  At the end of the ride, I thanked him and walked over to the temple.  I was immediately overcome with emotion, beginning to tear up as I stood on the long bridge that leads to the complex.  It was, quite simply, incredible to see those spires and towers that I had seen in pictures in real life.  As I walked over the bridge, I was amazed at the mass of people leaving the complex.  (Sunrise at the temples, along with sunset, is prime tourist activity.)  At the end of the walkway, you can choose to go right or left.  I chose right, and walked along the river to an entrance to the complex.

As I got to the stairs, I looked up and to my left and there was a statue of Vishnu, dressed in a gold sari.  I immediately started to weep openly.  I cannot explain why-it just completely cracked me open.  When I took the stairs up, some Buddhist sisters had set up a small offering box and incense.  A small rug was in front of the altar.  I feel to my knees, and pressed my hands into anjali mudra, and cried, and cried, and cried.  A small, brown skinned man dressed in a suit watched me, and the Buddhist nun sat quietly in the corner.  Every time I looked up from my prostration to Vishnu, I cried a little bit harder, mucous pooling in my nose.  I kept crying until I finally felt self-conscious enough to “pull myself together.”  I lit some incense, and offered a chant to Vishnu, and then touched his feet and took some of that sacred dust to my forehead.

As I walked out and looked onto the main complex area of Angkor, I started to cry again.  The thought came to mind: “I am home.”  I think that this thought may have been a little forced, but I think the sentiment was true.  It was amazing to be in that space.  I took some time to walk around the temple complex, taking in the scale of the building.  As I walked some imagination was required, as the ravages of time, and vandals, had destroyed some of the wall carvings and statues.  Long passage ways led into main chambers or large courtyards, which held even more statues and carvings.  One incredibly tall tower was inaccessible, which was a shame because it looked amazing.

I decided to leave Angkor and head back to town for breakfast and perhaps some rest.  As I walked back, I noticed all of the families setting up their stands and stalls to sell food and drinks.  I had not brought much money, so I did not stop to buy food. (Another note: trust Lonely Planet when it says to bring all your money in small bills-they are not lying.)  Once I arrived back in town, I exchanged my $20 for some smaller bills, and then headed into Siem Reap for part two of my reconnaissance mission.  I started by walking, but ultimately relented, since I now had the cash and I felt that I could contribute to the local economy.  So, off we went to the market.

Having not remembered a map, I began to wander aimlessly.  A map would not have helped much anyway, considering the streets are unmarked and seemingly unnamed.  But I finally found my way into the heart of Siem Reap, an area consisting of perhaps 3 or 4 city blocks.  Hallelujah!  That having been said, there was not much there unless I wanted to shop for something, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.  Walking through the market itself is a little bit of a challenge, since people are constantly grabbing you in an attempt to get you to buy their products-and each stall sells the same basic items.  After a couple amusing encounters which left my cash still in my pockets, I decided to stop for lunch at a local restaurant.  Khmer food has so far been quite a bit like Thai or Vietnamese, with no distinctive quality yet to be discovered.  I am committing to myself to be open minded and take some time to discover the food here, as well as the culture.

Finally, I headed back to the hotel, deciding to call it an early day-very early, as it was around 1:00 in the afternoon.  The combined lack of sleep from the flights, the boredom of airports, and the emotional excitement of Angkor Wat and Siem Reap, lured me to my comfortable and comforting bed (now made and covered with a very pretty silk runner), and I feel asleep listening to an audio course on mantra, listening to the chants for Narayana/Vishnu.

I am very lucky as a homosexual male that I have rarely felt unsupported by those close to me.  Tonight I faced driving past a group of people holding “Yes on Proposition 8″ banners.  One of the (many) groups was holding a pride flag that had been written on with a message that was not supportive of gays and lesbians.  As my partner and I sat at the red light hearing the chanting of the groups, I thought to myself, “I will never have the opportunity to do the same to them.”

The Conundrum of Staying in the Place of the Heart

Neem Karoli Baba, a great Indian saint and bhakta, said, “Do what you must do with a person, but never put them out of your heart.”  As I looked at the group, I noticed most of them were young, perhaps too young to vote.  I also began to project that many of them were of Slavic descent, which connected to my perception that many of the Russian churches organize their members in anti-gay events.  My partner said, “they have a right to their opinion.”  My agitation and annoyance now spread to him for doing what I perceived as supporting them.  I started to become very physically hot and uncomfortable, as if any moment any one of them might have walked up to the car and started to verbally attack me.

I held a lot of anger in my heart towards these people.  I felt judged, personally attacked.  Of course, nothing about their actions was directed towards me specifically.  However, their message was directed towards a group with whom I identify and feel that I belong.

As I sat there, I began to realize that, although these people were taking action to limit my rights and abilities, I would never be in a position to limit their rights and abilities.  I would never, I thought, be able to pass some legislation that would make them feel as powerless as I did at that moment.  I would never be able to attack the core of who they are, and render them completely speechless with the virulence of my opinion, of my hatred towards them.

The Process

It is easy to believe that spiritual people should always be in a space of love, that we must accept everyone.  I don’t think this is true.  What I believe is that we must be able to respect the right of others, to not judge them, but be able to disagree with their opinions.  This is incredibly hard work.  I cannot feel, on a instinctual level, anything but anger towards people who would seek to limit my choices.  My NVC experience and focus tells me that anger is the result of a need not being met.  I know what need that is: the need to be recognized and to be acknowledged.

The people waving signs asking for Californians to “respect the sanctity of marriage” by defining it as “a union between a man and a woman” are acting out of fear.  I could spend pages writing about the paradox of this statement—including the fact that the greatest threat to the sanctity of marriage is heterosexual divorce and the sanctity of marriage is created by how people exist in it, not WHO gets to be in it—but it is irrelevant to the fact that their fear threatens my sense of self.  What a strange statement, when we look at it, isn’t it?  Why is it that their fear threatens my sense of self, my sense of safety?

As we drove away from the light and the crowds, I had to process a huge number of feelings.  The foremost, of course, was anger.  I knew that I couldn’t been angry at these people and get to a productive place.  I also knew that I wasn’t going to take the time to stop and connect to them.  I wasn’t ever going to be able to walk up to them and do that, and I wasn’t going to be able to stop seeing them as labels, as groups without individual identities.  So, I had to do the work on myself.

Getting to Love

Choosing love is hard.  But I had to start really thinking about how I was going to acknowledge this feelings and see where they could lead me.  I wish I could say that I got to love, and that writing this now I am at that space of love.  I’m not.  I’m still frustrated, and I still want to “get even” with those people.  Probably in the same way they might want to “get even” with me.

What I realized by going through these feelings is that I couldn’t get to love without first getting to the place where I could disengage from my own fear.  I had to begin the process of letting go of my anger as a starting point for how to change the situation.  I am still in that process even as I write this.  Where I can start, though, is by accepting that there viewpoint is not acceptable to me.  What, therefore, should I do?  I can make choice not to agree—I already voted “no” on the proposition—and I can also make the choice to recognize that their choice, and their actions, cannot diminish my own.  Even if they inspire fear in me, or anger, I cannot let that be where I start.  I have to start from love, in whatever form that takes.

A Little Intro to NVC
Non-violent communication, developed and championed by Marshall Rosenberg, provides an imminently practical, but profoundly empowering, method of sharing feelings and needs with others.  The communcation model is based on a four step process consisting of an objective statement of what has occurred; the feeling that the occurrence creates; the need underlying the feeling; and a request to help the other party recognize how to meet a need while respecting his or her own boundaries.

Because non-violent communication is a feelings-based system, it can be challenging to use, particularly if we have never really been empowered to communicate our feelings and feel safe about doing so.  While I have no issue communicating my feelings–just ask anyone who knows me—I do feel that my feelings are occasionally not worth expressing.  Of course, this idea is antithetical to principles of non-violent communication.  ALL feelings are worth expressing, although we must be aware of how we are expressing them.

Regretting Regretting Regret—HUH?
In a recent conflict with someone I am very close to, I had the opportunity to experience the challenge of expressing my needs and feeling good about doing it.  The specific conflict had to do with plans that may or may not pan out due to a work conflict.  I felt very frustrated by this, because I had really wanted to spend time with this person, and I felt that the work conflict was a choice, not a necessity.  I felt like I was not valued and that bothered me.  So I felt compelled to call my friend and express this opinion.  I explained to him that I was feeling frustrated by the situation, and although I was not frustrated at him, felt the need to share my frustration.

Predictably, the conversation did not leave me feeling positively about expressing my feelings.  I immediately started regretting my choice to express my feelings.  It did not alleviate my stress, my frustration, and I felt that I had added to my friend’s stress.  So I began to spin on my decision, wondering why I had felt to compelled to call, why I hadn’t sat and mediated and confronted the question of “Who am I?” as way to recognize that my feelings were just a programmed response to my need to be needed, why hadn’t I waved my arms and done Dance of Shiva, why why why?

Then, being as advanced—or screwed up, take your pick—as I am, I began to realize that it was silly to regret what I had done.  I began to regret my regretting.  I had done a good thing by expressing my feelings.  I was just worried about how they had been received.  I was reacting to the reaction of my friend, not my own reaction to my sharing my feelings.  So I began to feel a little bit better.  Then, of course, I picked up the phone and called my friend to apologize for my expression of my feelings.

Getting to NVC
This scenario is not a joke, and it’s likely that many of us feel the same way at times.  What I’ve found out from using NVC and learning about my own emotional landscape is that we have a need to express our feelings, but that doesn’t mean that our feelings are about creating positive change.  What does that mean?  In NVC there is a sense that there is a hierarchy to empathy and the NVC process, the third level of which is being aware of how someone else influences you.  Shining the light of consciousness onto our own emotional reactions to others is an important part of awareness, since it means that we are not simply reacting.  Instead, we are building an awareness that can lead to a greater and deeper empathy.

In the situation I just described, I correctly identified that I was frustrated by not being able to fulfill my original version of my plans.  However, my frustration was truly based in a complex set of emotional reactions to both the situation and the person in question.  Without digging through my own trash and blogging it up for your enjoyment, I realized that I was reacting to this situation based on past disappointments.  I came to this realization after completing the trip in question, and finding that everything was great, it all worked out, and everything was fine.  I had a good time going by myself, and he had a good time relaxing, both of us stress-free and completely satisfied by our individual experience.

Of course, that’s the fourth level of the NVC process: working to understand the feelings of another, and by doing so, derive satisfaction from supporting others in their own process of growth.  So, I met my need to go on a brief trip, he met his need for relaxation, and we both felt that the other was completely okay with these needs being met in this way.  How great is that?

Learning More
Interested in learning more about this kind of thing?  There’s a lot of great resources for this on the web, such as the Center for Nonviolent Communication, or by joining me in one of my workshops on the topic.

Thanks for reading!

I am the one who is honored, and who is praised,
and who is despised scornfully.
I am peace,
and war has come because of me.
And I am an alien and a citizen.
I am the substance and the one who has no substance.

I am the union and the dissolution.
I am the abiding and I am the dissolution.
I am the one below,
and they come up to me.
I am the judgment and the acquittal.
I am sinless,
and the root of sin derives from me.
I am lust in (outward) appearance,
and interior self-control exists within me.
I am the hearing which is attainable to everyone
and the speech which cannot be grasped.
I am a mute who does not speak,
and great is my multitude of words.

Om Kali Mata-ki jai!  Om Durga Mata-ki jai!  Om shri Mahalakshmi mata-ki jai!