KENTUKIANA 11 (Part II). Where I Said 'I'm Staying,' I Now Say 'I'm Going Back'

(Continued from KENTUKIANA 10 (Part I): Where I Said ‘I’m Staying,’ I Now Say ‘I’m Going Back’)

The great revelation came first thing in the morning, around 8:15.

I began the class by explaining the names of the animals on a farm, such as the hen, the donkey, the horse, the sheep, the cow. I then set out to imitate their sounds to make the topic more appealing. My goals were none other than to capture their attention and steer them toward respect for nature and for the lesson itself. Next I put on the typical sounds of a farm in the background and began the concert. So when I wasn't clucking, I was braying, or neighing, or even barking. Now that really did sound like a farm. And so I'd say to them: -What does the chick do? cheep, cheep!; the pig? oink, oink!; the sheep? baa, baa; the cow? moo!; the horse? neigh!; and how does the rooster crow? cock-a-doodle-doo!; and what does the turkey do? gobble! gobble!; and how does the cat purr? purr! purr!-.

At the same time I tried to adopt the posture of some of these specimens in an attempt to pull off a more comical number. You should have seen me there flapping my arms like a hen (I nearly sprouted feathers): –cluck, cluck, cluck, cluuuck!-; or stretching out my neck while meowing like a cat: –meooow!-. They laughed and covered their mouths, though more at my ridiculousness than anything else, and on top of that, the more they smiled, the more imitations came out of me. I was having a blast laughing with them and at myself. The class was already taking on a certain circus air, since even they started doing imitations, and as I mentioned in the first entry of this blog (Kentukiana 0. Welcome to the ‘Wildcats’ World), being a teacher these days requires developing a many-sided personality, that is, learning to do a little bit of everything. The latest addition? farm animal: quack, quack!

For this first unit I prepared some word searches and a few animal drawings to color. In the next lesson we would move on to the online game blooket, where I would assess their vocabulary as well as their teamwork. The last session I had reserved for the most creative part: making masks to go along with their funny movements. I wanted to offer variety and keep my audience from getting bored, so if they didn't like plan A (masks of farm animals), I would fall back on plan B (masks of insects and wild animals), plan C (masks of monsters and superheroes), or plan D (the art of improvisation and putting on a poker face).

The starring student, the one who lit the spark of the great revelation, was sitting next to her friend ‘Miss O‘. They would not stop mocking and treating everything as one big joke. It was business as usual with those two, and believe me, I tried hard to motivate them. The only option was to separate them, but rather than create even more discontent, there together I left them.

Faced with the continued mockery and their ever-greater distraction, I opted to activate the approach protocol, starting a friendly chat with them. Then I offered them the chance to switch activities. ‘Miss K‘ colored a butterfly with nothing but scribbles in under a minute, so I then proposed the word search option to see if that motivated her more, but after her repeated refusals and her stubborn behavior I moved on to the first warnings of possible phone calls home and written reprimands. I let them be and stepped away to see if things would improve. However, at one point, just as I finished answering other students' questions, I returned to the aforementioned students' table and, what do I find? ‘Miss K‘ tearing the innocent word search into thin strips, so that it was now a ‘strip search‘, and with that there was little I could do but pin it on her as a finishing brooch.

and, what do I find? ‘Miss K‘ tearing the innocent word search into thin strips, so that it was now a ‘strip search‘

At that moment I felt a tremendous ‘shock‘, an emotional blow in which something in me ‘woke up’ — and this despite being well accustomed to these episodes. But this one in particular triggered a certain ‘click‘ inside me. Within seconds I felt my soul torn to shreds, and here the reader may argue that it couldn't have been such a big deal, to which I would reply that without knowing the experience up close, it is better not to judge lightly. And herein lies my first mistake or slip: identification with what happened, attachment to an identity or a situation. I let myself be blindly and mechanically taken over by what was going on between the student and me, and there I lost my ‘self’, my being. This is why we tend to be so suggestible and impressionable: precisely because we are not in our being or in our center, but almost always let ourselves get entangled and distracted by all manner of trifles, bagatelles and, in short, everything superficial, which ends up alienating and dehumanizing nothing more and nothing less than our lives.

And herein lies my first mistake or slip: identification with what happened, attachment to an identity or a situation.

I should have trained harder in detachment and in the power of observation, because especially at these ages, and in the face of constant disrespect and indifference, the best thing was not to take anything to heart. And yet we are so deep into the filming of our own movie that it is sometimes very hard to step out of its false script. Well, no matter — the other actors will be there to remind us and pull us out of it, as indeed happened. The thing is, we live so attached to a name, to fame, to status, to flags and their homelands, that we accept it all as something natural, and calling it into question makes people uncomfortable — above all the ego. For this very reason, and this is part of the revelation, I understood that we must not fight the ego but rather learn to control it so that it does not dominate us the way it did that morning. We are nothing of what we have been told we are. Our identity is a salad of inventions, both our own and external ones. The problem is that we have believed them. And yet, who alerts us and teaches us to ‘dis-identify’ and ‘detach’ from these and other fictions? School, parents, the system? Here, the discerning reader will know what I am talking about.

Our identity is a salad of inventions, both our own and external ones. The problem is that we have believed them.

who alerts us and teaches us to ‘dis-identify’ and ‘detach’ from these and other fictions?

The fact is, the act got the better of me, and looking at that quartered piece of paper, an immense guillotined forest instantly appeared before me. I always remind my students to be conscious of their use of paper, since it comes from the mass murder of innocent trees, of defenseless forests. ‘Murder’, yes, I said it. The dictionary dresses it up with words like logging, lumber, paper, but in truth its synonyms are destruction, devastation, annihilation. Many are not even fazed, for they listen to me with blind ears and minds varnished with fictions. They listen for a few seconds and laugh. But I know my words do not fall on barren ground: –Have you ever hugged a tree?-, I often ask them, and their mouths drop open in disbelief and astonishment.

–Have you ever hugged a tree?-, I often ask them, and their mouths drop open in disbelief and astonishment.

That morning I failed to activate in time the invisible S.S.A.D.S. (‘Super-protection Shield Against Disruptive Students‘), so ‘Miss K‘’s little stunt caught me with my guard down and hit me like a cold-water cramp of the brain. However, after the incident I managed to act normally, and I took the mutilated body of paper away from her in the calmest way I knew how. I called one of the monitors from BI, or Behavior Intervention, and once she had been taken out of class I carried on, apparently calm. I say apparently, because the effect of the blow would not show itself until a few hours later. Second mistake or slip: the lack of equanimity, of balance, for although I controlled the situation at first, what came afterwards flattened me.

Second mistake or slip: the lack of equanimity, of balance

As soon as class ended and they left, I headed to the ‘restroom‘ to splash cool water on my wrists and face. I was flushed and suffocating: –Meditation, meditation-, I kept telling myself in front of the mirror. My gaze was like that of a dragon trying to escape. Then I understood that an imminent change was brewing, ready to express itself with all its force. I felt it from my stomach to my head, passing right through my heart. Then it flooded my entire being.

My gaze was like that of a dragon trying to escape.

Hours later, at around 11:45, I went upstairs to the second floor, where the cafeteria was located, for my supervision shift. There were the third graders having their lunch. As I climbed the stairs, a certain unease began to destabilize me. Something was not right. The moment I entered the great hall, that sensation turned into suffocation and anguish. It spread from my abdomen up to my throat, constricting my voice. The words would not come out; the air was barely getting in. I wanted to scream, but inward. I thought I was going to implode.

As chance would have it, the principal happened to be passing right by, and without thinking I pulled out my phone and typed on it: –I have a panic attack, can I go to my room?-. She nodded without saying a word. I was grateful to her, more for the latter than for letting me go — though for that too — because had she made me speak, I would surely have started crying my eyes out: it was the weeping of helplessness. Then I slipped out swiftly with my head down so that no student would notice my state. Just as I reached the door, a Guatemalan student saw me and asked: -Mister Duro, are you okay?-, to which I answered with a thumbs up without even looking at him. I rushed down the stairs, went into the restroom, and felt once again the revival of the water. My face was flushed and my eyes were swollen. It was the second attack I had had since that first one, on the very August day classes began. I shut myself in my classroom and sat down. Fewer tears were coming from my sockets by then, but still — enough to finish pouring out the frustration I felt at that moment. I had come to teach Spanish, not to tame savages every single day, class after class, at all hours. I settled back against my chair, began to work with my breathing, and managed to enter a state of calm.

–I have a panic attack, can I go to my room?-.

I had come to teach Spanish, not to tame savages every single day, class after class, at all hours.

I began to work with my breathing and managed to enter a state of calm.

That morning a great suprarational understanding, like a ray of light brimming with wisdom and discernment, began to flood me — and it came to stay. It was a clear-sightedness with which I began to understand many things that had been lying latent, asleep, perhaps waiting for a moment just like this. In the evening, when I reached the couch of my apartment, I took stock of what had happened, quieted my mind even further, and that was when the revelations began to come, one after another.

It was a clear-sightedness with which I began to understand many things that had been lying latent, asleep, perhaps waiting for a moment just like this.

Since that day I have not stopped perceiving them, and each time with greater clarity. To give just a few examples, I will tell you that I have learned to revalue what we have in Spain, what the affection of family means, the friendship of good friends, the small details as countless as the stars in the sky — whether strolling through the countryside of Menorca on foot or by bicycle, feeling my feet sink into the sand of its beaches, the ecstasy of slipping onto one of its camí de cavalls (rural trails), having a cup of tea in a plaza, chatting with little old folks, feeling the caress of a dog, of a cat, of a donkey; losing myself in any patch of nature and giving all five senses to whatever happens within it, going out for a walk with my mother and to pétanque with my father, teaching again at my old high school — in short, looking at everything I left behind with another kind of gaze, a wiser gaze, one cleaner of all that fiction we usually stuff our heads with. And I could go on listing.

looking at everything I left behind with another kind of gaze, a wiser gaze, one cleaner

Less is more. I want to flee the cities crammed with buildings and strident noise, divorced from the natural surroundings where I can rebalance myself and enjoy all of them: countryside, mountains, dunes, sea. To flee a society where people have become dehumanized.

Something very curious is that I have lost all appetite for the big music festivals and concerts I was practically ‘dying’ to attend until very recently. Crowds overwhelm me, people have stopped conveying charisma and humanity to me, and the ‘posing‘ adopted these days is a phony artifice that only entangles and confuses both its own actors and everyone around them. But, who pulls back the veil of all these fictions for us? ‘A new way of being‘.

who pulls back the veil of all these fictions for us? ‘A new way of being‘.

In five days, very close to where I live, the Sonic Temple will take place — a mega-festival running from May 16 through 19, featuring a hundred of the best rock bands on the entire planet — and yet I could not care less. I will miss the return of Pantera, as well as performances by what used to be objects of worship like Disturbed, Evanescende, the classic Judas Priest, the hip hop of Cypres Hill, the veteran Misfits, Anthrax, the singer of Faith no More with his project Mr. Bungle, Living Colour, Slipknot, Limpbizkit, Royal Blood, Bad Religion, Clutch, or Helmet, among many more. And though back at Christmas I was already longing for this date to arrive, now it's just ‘meh‘.

a hundred of the best rock bands on the entire planet will take part, and yet I could not care less.

On the contrary, I now prefer to return to the tranquility of the island and find my best center again with everything I left there. If I can, I will take up free style kung fu again, along with tai chi and chi kung, and I will keep up the meditation (not medication), though in a much more natural and wholesome environment. Here some reader might add that with age our way of perceiving things changes, and in a way they would be right — only that rather than age, I prefer to speak of experiences, of clear-sighted moments that come when, through healthy discernment, you realize you are raising your level of consciousness. Otherwise, what are we here for if not to try to be a little better? These discoveries are not produced by the worship of any deity, idol, dogma, or religion, but simply by that continuous, internal and conscious work that many of us ought to practice as the humans we are — and not only for our own good but also for the common good. I will talk about all this in the next article.

I now prefer to return to the tranquility of the island and find my best center again with everything I left there.

Going back to the moment of the revelation, when I began to observe life in another way, I believe it may have been a result of the way I have been managing and internalizing the story of my experiences. Experiences as unique and personal as those of any other person, since in a way we are all a little alike and, at the same time, a little different. That is why any of us can go through moments of revelation like this one, for they are nothing more than the consequences of an evolution. We are here to improve, to learn from every lesson and, in turn, to serve as an example and a lesson to those around us. As my kung fu master used to tell me: ‘everything is part of the training‘.

‘everything is part of the training‘.

How is it possible that that Monday, March 18, changed my outlook so much? It was not a change that happened overnight. That transformation, so to call it, had already been brewing in a silent, continuous way, through the inner work I have been doing, as I mentioned earlier — it is just that on that day, let's say, I became much more aware of it.

it had already been brewing in a silent, continuous way, through the inner work I have been doing

Mutations occur because ‘we are change in constant motion and in continuous discovery‘. Our very body keeps transforming second by second, to say nothing of the microscopic world we ignore, or the infinite cosmos we admire. Will our volatile thoughts not then re-educate themselves as well? Do not many loves change almost from one day to the next? The very law of the transmutation of energy states that all of it flows in a constant manner through the universe, changing from one state to another, uninterruptedly. Therefore, ‘we are change and nothing fixed‘. A change we ought to know how to channel and cultivate in a sensible and conscious way. The sooner we understand this, the more we will ‘humanize ourselves‘.

‘we are change in constant motion and in continuous discovery‘.

A change we ought to know how to channel and cultivate in a sensible and conscious way. The sooner we understand this, the more we will ‘humanize ourselves‘.

One of the purposes for which I began to write this blog was to seek explanations for why and what for I came. Only now have the answers begun to appear, without pressure and by sheer happenstance.

Only now have the answers begun to appear,

–Why did you come from so far away?-, some Americans often ask me in surprise. Only a timid ‘me’ would choke up when answering, stammering and even playing naive, for I have never known what to answer with certainty. Now, however, I can say that thanks to the experience of this journey I have acquired a new way of being.

Next post: – KENTUKIANA 12. ‘A New Way of Being‘