Freshly Laundered & Hanging Out to Dry: Chapter9

Chapter 9
Introduction to Themes

Everyone has an inner teacher,
But we have not yet learned to go to that school. _JG Bennett

From the moment I arrived at Sherborne House, I felt I’d never be able to meet the expectations. The quantity of silence increased that unpleasant self-awareness just as the short meditations had at the Cayce camp. However, camp had a friendly ambiance and lasted only a few days. Here, time felt interminable with too little mitigating kindness.
How could I assess what I was experiencing? Time and again, I was repulsed by the snappish tone of voice used by staff and old Bennett students. Unlike the ready empathy at camp, I had to search among my classmates for tenderness to smooth the rough edges. At the same time, the systematic way of looking at the world was similar to the sparse and analytical communication I was brought up with. Although it was unpleasant, often missing important expressive ques, it was familiar and I believed what I’d been told—that it signified discernment.
At Sherborne, when my activities were questioned, I always made excuses about what I was doing. Had I never moved beyond parental expectations I adopted as my own? Sometimes, I could see I was wrong about what I thought others expected of me, but what was reasonable for me to be capable of doing? No matter how hard I worked at something, I was always dissatisfied with the outcome. With this degree of self-criticism, I could never feel satisfaction with anything I did. Now, at Sherborne, we were told every day to ask more of ourselves. The language was so unappealing; it rarely inspired or gave me hope.

It is early November. Mr. B keeps our after-dinner Movements class long after the usual 10:00 ending. I am brimming with indignation about this breach in the schedule that makes the day’s activities last even longer than usual.
All I can think about is how I’ve already put in my time today. I don’t need another forty-five minutes of Movements. I sound a lot like Boris when he was serving breakfast. I just want to go to the dorm and tune out. I have to remind myself that I’d chosen to come to Sherborne and that I have nothing else to do with my time tonight.
After class, I hear other students raving about how lucky we are, Mr. Bennett having taught the class himself! Extra time for Movements! The resistance I felt throughout my school years is so habitual that I am unable to recognize an inner reason for making extra efforts such as attending a longer-than-usual class.

It is two weeks before what would be Thanksgiving in America when Mr. Bennett says to us, “In your spare time after all the classes are done for the day, see if you can finish up the work on the stable block building in time for the Thanksgiving holiday.”
I overhear students making plans to meet at the stable block at 10 P.M. after Movements. In my mind, I ridicule the enthusiasts, as if all of them are foolish to believe that the deadline means anything. Having signed up for the course isn’t a good enough reason for me to embrace the assignment. But I can’t ignore the challenge, either. If I’m not going to put energy into something I’m told I should, feeling guilty is my way to pay for letting myself off the hook. I’m still looking at all our activities as if I haven’t had anything to do with agreeing to make them part of my life, as if all this were against my volition like being sent to school had been. I’m so overwhelmed by the full schedule, the meditative exercises, the constant stream of new Movements to learn, Mr. B’s philosophy and commentary on the observational Themes he assigns us that I need to keep pushing everything away.
I remember observing a crawling baby watch some toddlers running back and forth, I could see how strong her wish to run was. Her eyes followed the children as they scurried back and forth and she laughed when they laughed. It reminded me of once having had a certain interest in life that seems to have disappeared. Many of the other students are so enthusiastic about everything I wonder if there isn’t something wrong with me. Have I lost a natural satisfaction that comes from trying new activities?
Second-guessing my intentions and rationalizing them to others and myself is getting tiresome, again, driving me to prayer. And who am I praying to? I know what I am praying for—usually just to get through another day, to carry out the commitment I had made to myself to stay the course. Barely a couple of weeks into the course and I’ve pretty much forgotten about any lofty aspirations.

Fanaticism consists in redoubling your effort
when you have forgotten your aim. _George Santayana

On Monday mornings, Mr. Bennett introduced a way of studying called a Theme. It provided a matrix for making self-observations. On Fridays, we would meet with him again to discuss our experiences with the Theme. He explained how we were to approach the assignment.
“In Western culture we often make a mistake in thinking that if we read about something or have seen pictures of it in a magazine or a show about it on television, we now understand it. Therefore, we are to take great care in speaking not from thoughts and concepts about the topic but from direct experience with it.”
The subject matter of Themes was wide ranging, covering everything from the most concrete, such as ‘material objects’ or ‘food,’ to issues that could be called ethereal, such as ‘energies’ or ‘listening’. However, even the most tangible Theme would turn out to inspire observations about intangibles: awareness, effort, relationship, accountability, and gratitude.
For the first Theme, Mr. Bennett spoke about our responsibility to the material world and the power we have over the tools we use. He asked us to notice how we relate to them, encouraging us to set ourselves tasks that could deepen our understanding. For example, if we chose to deprive ourselves the use of something that we often employed, such as a pencil or shoes, the consequences of not using them would increase our awareness of their role in our lives. Again, he reminded us that we were not talking about our thoughts on the Theme, but incidents or experiments.
“Observation combined with experience is what will create understanding,” is how he put it.
He also cautioned us, “Don’t disperse your energy by sharing your experiences before the Theme meeting. Let the pressure build.”
I had no ideas for tasks or experiments. I just tried to digest what Mr. B had suggested as an approach to the Theme—to observe real events. His ideas about working with it were similar to therapy when I was trying to change some of my attitudes. I noticed that if I didn’t talk with friends about what I was trying to do, I seemed to make more successful efforts. It was something I could observe in myself and other people. If my friends or I talked a lot about something we wanted to do that was difficult for us, we never seemed to be able to do them.
I wouldn’t have described the phenomenon as ‘available energy’ but now, from that past experience, I could comprehend it in that way. Also, when I spoke only with the therapist about my observations, and not with friends in casual conversation, my attention was directed toward understanding and assimilation. Although it was possible to speak with certain friends about these private efforts, not all of them had the long view of my personal development in mind the way a therapist is supposed to. Friends and relatives tended to be attached to outcomes of their own choosing.

It is Friday and we’re meeting to discuss the Theme. I’ve done nothing to actively experiment and so all I can do in preparation is scan the week in my head to see if I notice anything. I’m surprised to discover I spend more time and energy relating to tools than to people. From the minute I awaken in my down blanketed bed wearing warm pajamas, hearing the bell, putting on a robe, using a wash cloth, towel, and tub, not a moment throughout the day is spent without using tools, relating to them, or interacting with other people about them. It should have been obvious to me how embedded we are in the material world.
During the week, there have been some free-floating images, possibly relevant to the Theme because tools are involved. However, they stick in my mind like dreams, making little sense. One day I come across two hand spades for gardening, each left in inappropriate places—one in the elegant stone Great Hall on the ground floor and the other in the stable block, the old rough stone building we are to have renovated by Thanksgiving. Maybe there, someone thought the hand spade would work as a passable pointing tool to replace old mortar. Now that I notice them, a question arises about responsibility: Was I going to put them away where they belonged or just leave them where they’d been abandoned? After finding the second one I decide to go back to the first and put both of them away.
The second free-floating incident happens a couple of days later. I am walking along the front of Sherborne House enjoying the well-designed view of the hills with their intentional groupings of trees. I pass Byron who is walking in the opposite direction. I notice that I am carrying some wire wound into a circle about eight inches in diameter and he is carrying a hammer. The image persists in my mind. I carry it into the Theme meeting, yet I have no memory of what either of us was doing with those items or what kind of observation I could make about them.
I also recall watching several students leaving our ornate home carrying pick axes over their shoulders. They’re not usually stored inside the mansion. Nor could I imagine at that early hour that they’d been in use somewhere inside. All I could think of was how strange everyone appeared holding tools that didn’t make sense in the surroundings.
Friday Theme observation takes place in the downstairs library. Mr. Bennett sits silently, waiting until everyone brings their attention into the room. This is how every meeting and lecture begins, making us aware of our habitual tardiness or inattention expressed by mindless chatter. Eventually the atmosphere becomes hushed and somber, never inviting, even when silence is a relief. I don’t speak during this meeting, though I am most alert to the images floating around in my brain. I don’t know what I could say about them.

It’s so simple to be wise. Just think of something
stupid to say and then don’t say it. _Sam Levenson

As the tension grows, it becomes ever more difficult to break the silence. Who will dare to speak first? When someone finally makes an observation, a long pause hangs in the air before Mr. B makes his comment. As we wait for the next observation, all I can think of is my wish to hide. What if he doesn’t wait and instead calls on me? I keep willing myself to become invisible. Maybe that’s the unconscious reason for writing to mom and asking her to mail me my camouflage sweatshirt. “I can really use it here,” I tell her.
Despite the restrictive feeling in the atmosphere, the Theme observations are unexpected and diverse, inviting Mr. Bennett to elaborate on them. He often finds something of great value that I wouldn’t have understood. One man describes treating tools poorly, short-changing his care for them.
“All I seem to do is take and never give back.” After a short silence he adds, “I guess I don’t have any real experiences to report.”
“When did you discover this attitude about taking and never giving back?” Mr. B asks.
“This week.”
“In fact, you have made a very great discovery. I hope that you will be able to retain this realization. If you can do so, it will be the beginning of an immense change in your life.”
Another student tells us of his proprietary attitudes; another of how ubiquitous tools are in life and he wonders if this requires some duty on his part. The omnipresence of tools had been so central to my experience that it hadn’t seemed to be an observation.
Mr. B comments that we’ve become very dependent on tools. “But there’s no going back to a primitive life without tools. We must come to see that this relationship demands that there is a price to pay. We must see whether we waste material resources, how they are shared, and how they affect the environment. Do they pollute it? What is our relationship to them? Can we allow tools to be all they can be without interfering with another aspect of life? Just a small amount of growing awareness allows us to become normal about developing respect for them. Because we have so little to do with the production of the tools we use, it has become normal not to respect them and not to understand the far reaching consequences of their use.” I can’t help but think of bulldozers and chemicals used for processing plastics, packaging waste, and other industrial activities.
Sometimes, Mr. B is harsh in his comment to a student, calling him to task for laziness, for example, but a minute later he is sympathetic or expansive to such a degree that it inspires awe. Does he know who benefits from a blunt awakening and who requires a gentle touch? Still, I can’t imagine ever feeling comfortable enough to be a willing contributor.
The wide ranging reactions and observations about tools helps me see more about humanity’s attitudes toward taking, controlling, and using objects, both man-made and natural. Mr. Bennett’s comments expand everyone’s understanding, even that of the people who spoke, who often are not sure of the significance of their observations.
When all who want to speak are done, Mr. Bennett addresses the importance of finding a right relationship to the material world. Finally he completes his talk with a suggestion of asking us to compare the right treatment and potential of a tool with right human action. “How we can use ourselves as tools, developing an awareness of our actions in relation to a greater purpose?”