Author: Andy Uyboco

Some people would insist that the term “spiritual freethinker” is self-contradictory.

A freethinker, by definition, is a person who holds that one’s opinions “should be formed on the basis of logic, reason, and empiricism, rather than authority, tradition, or other dogmas.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freethought)

A person who is “spiritual,” in its most literal sense, believes that there is a supernatural dimension to reality. Since the supernatural is difficult to observe, quantify and experiment on, the strict rationalist would say it is impossible for a freethinker to be spiritual.

There is, however, a different interpretation of the word “spiritual” that might make sense of this.

I once sat in meditation and since I had no formal training in meditation, religious or otherwise, I just closed my eyes and breathed deeply while trying to calm my thoughts. I was able to reach a point that could probably be described as spiritual (and I have not replicated it ever since). I can only use vague metaphors to describe the experience — I was empty of thought; I became oblivious to time, or the small aches and pains I often have when sitting cross-legged for an extended period; I felt deep joy and contentment; I felt bliss.

There are moments in my life when I have experienced something so wonderful and profound, and almost impossible to put in words. Sometimes, it happens at the end of a beautiful movie or an incredible book and I am just moved to tears. I see a photograph or piece of art and I can just gaze at it for a long time.

There is a danger in being rational, and that is to reduce everything to rationality. I am quite guilty of doing that on several occasions and I constantly have to remind myself that there is a knowing that transcends reason.

This is perhaps best illustrated by a story told by Tony de Mello (whom I wrote about last week):

The master said, “Those who speak do not know, and those who know do not speak.”

The disciples asked, “What does that mean?”

The master said, “How many of you know what a rose smells like?”

Everyone raised their hands.

The master said, “Now, put it into words.”

Everyone was silent, and understood.

It is in this unspeakable sense that I understand spirituality.

Alan Watts, best-selling author of The Way of Zen said that while we may study and understand the human mind and body scientifically, that better not be the way a man tries to understand or relate to his wife.

Of course, the purpose of this piece is not to put down one or the other, but to show that both are valid facets of our humanity, worthy to be nurtured and celebrated. We are, after all, not just talking heads, roaming bodies, strong wills or raging emotions. We are all of those combined and to try to take them apart would be like trying to appreciate a rainbow by taking apart its colors, or to marvel at a waterfall by storing the water in a bucket for future contemplation.

A spiritual freethinker, therefore, is a rational person, grounded in reality, yet still able to look at the stars in awe of their magnificence. Carl Sagan, author of The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, perhaps said it best: “Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality. When we recognize our place in an immensity of light‐years and in the passage of ages, when we grasp the intricacy, beauty, and subtlety of life, then that soaring feeling, that sense of elation and humility combined, is surely spiritual. So are our emotions in the presence of great art or music or literature, or acts of exemplary selfless courage such as those of Mohandas Gandhi or Martin Luther King, Jr. The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both.”

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Andy Uyboco is a businessman, trainer and speaker. Send comments, questions and tithes to andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

When I began exploring the boundaries of my Christian belief system, I discovered the writings of Anthony “Tony” de Mello. He was an Indian Jesuit priest who was also a well-known author and lecturer. Although he was a priest, his views on spirituality were so different and non-traditional that it prompted a committee headed by then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (who later became Pope Benedict XVI) to declare some of his writings as “incompatible with the Catholic Faith and can cause grave harm.”

Most of his books are simply a collection of short parables and stories (no more than a page or two per story) featuring “the Master” who Tony describes as being “not a single person. He is a Hindu guru, a Zen roshi, a Taoist sage, a Jewish rabbi, a Christian monk, a Sufi mystic. He is Lao Tzu and Socrates, Buddha and Jesus, Zarathusthra and Muhammad…You will probably find the Master’s language baffling, exasperating, even downright meaningless. This, alas, is not an easy book. It was written, not to instruct, but to Awaken.” (from Awakening: Conversations with the Masters).

He borrows from many traditions and incorporates them into his own style, which is non-invasive and non-threatening. He makes no attempt to persuade you to believe as he does but instead encourages you to develop your own conclusions and insights from the stories.

The very first story of another book, The Song of the Bird, illustrates this beautifully. A disciple asks the Master, “Why do you keep telling us stories but never reveal their meaning?” The Master replies, “How would you like it if I offered you some fruit but chewed it before giving it to you?”

I realized then that almost all the beliefs I had were built on someone else’s foundation — were  chewed by other people, then fed to me. If that sounds pretty gross to you, that’s because it is. I was disgusted by it and that prompted me to re-examine my beliefs, to discard them one by one and begin my own search.

But did I really need to discard those beliefs? Could I not have searched within that framework? Tony has another story for that featuring the Mullah Nasruddin. One night, a neighbor finds Nasruddin on the street, on his hands and knees.

“What are you doing there, Mullah?” asks the neighbor.

“I am searching for my key,” says Nasruddin.

The neighbor then drops to his hands and knees and helps in the search. After a few minutes of fruitless labor, the neighbor asks, “Are you sure this is where you lost it?”

“No, I lost it at home,” replies Nasruddin.

“What? Then why are you searching for it here?” asks the neighbor.

“Because it’s brighter here,” replies Nasruddin.

This is why I found it ridiculous to search for Truth in the comfort of my belief. However, as I’ve written elsewhere before, it was not an easy thing to let go. I was like the disciple in another story, who complained to the Master, who seemed hell-bent to destroy every statement of belief in God, “I’m left with nothing to hold on to!”

At which the Master replied, “That’s what the fledgling says when pushed out of its nest. Do you expect to fly when you are securely settled in the nest of your beliefs? That isn’t flying. That’s flapping your wings!”

Thank you, Tony, for teaching me to fly.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Andy Uyboco is a businessman, trainer and speaker. If you gaze into the sky, you may perchance see him doing aerial summersaults. Email andy@freethinking.me for his flight schedule.

 

Around 2 or 3 years ago, I asked an atheist friend of mine, “If you don’t believe in God, what’s stopping you from going out, killing people, raping, stealing and doing all sorts of nasty things?”

He countered by saying, “Are you telling me that the only thing stopping you from doing those things is your belief in God? If you suddenly found out tomorrow that God didn’t exist, are you suddenly going to change into a different person and suddenly go on a crime spree? There are good or bad people whether they believe in whatever God or not.”

I then said, “But some say that belief in God provides some sort of moral compass. There is the fear of hell or the promise of reward in an afterlife that guides you to do good here on earth.”

He replied, “Actually, the promise of an afterlife may also be a reason for people not to take this life too seriously, because they’ll think they can always ask for forgiveness later and still enjoy eternal happiness. For me, however, I believe that this is the only life I have. I have one life and I want to make sure that I don’t waste it and I live it fully. Now, I will surely think twice before committing a crime because if I get caught, I might spend the next 10 or 20 years of life in prison. And that would be a huge waste of the only life I have. Not believing in an afterlife actually gives me more incentive to be the best person I can be because it’s the only shot I have.”

Growing up a Christian had made me see reality in black and white terms. There was either good or evil. You either went to heaven or hell. You were either the child of God or the child of Satan.

So words like “atheist,” “godless,” “heathen” and so on were words that had very negative connotations. I had a very hard time thinking of an atheist as someone being good. To call someone “godless” usually meant that person was unspeakably evil. In fact, the Random House Dictionary lists “wicked, evil, sinful” as secondary meanings of the word. It just goes to show how our language is still loaded with thousands of years of theistic prejudice.

However, that short conversation gave me a lot to reflect on and I have slowly unlearned my aversion to those terms. Just recently, someone asked me, “So when did you become an atheist?”

Before, I would have defended myself and said that I wasn’t an atheist. That I was more of an agnostic. But I realized that time that I didn’t really care any more if he thought I was an atheist or not. I guess in his book, if I didn’t believe in his version of God, then I’m an atheist. So be it. I’m a godless heathen, and that’s really not such a bad thing when you look at all the “godly” politicians invoking his name while stealing the country blind. There are much worse things to be.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Andy Uyboco is a businessman, trainer and speaker. Send me your thoughts at andy@freethinking.me.  View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

 

(Click here for Part 1)

The kids rush outside for their daily dose of outdoor play. Some climb on the wooden slides, others play in the sand, and still others grab their toy water cans and start watering the plants.

Outdoor activities form a large part of Steiner education. “Sometimes, we start the morning by letting the children hike through the fields and climb trees,” explains Kate. Steiner believed, as Piaget did, that the early stages of a child’s development (before age 7) depended largely on how he or she experiences the world. The educational approach then, needs to be sensory and experiential. Thus, they don’t only talk about trees, but they actually have to see them, touch them, feel them, and yes, climb them.

I snap a few more pictures, then it’s off to lunch with Maya, and we have a long conversation about what the school was all about and their teaching methodologies. Three things impressed me the most:

1. No grades – People who really know me know that I have no love for grades. They may have served a certain need in times past but it is high time the educational system moved past this pass/fail mentality. The freedom from grading students removes the atmosphere of competition among students (and even parents), allows the teacher to connect with the student on a deeper level, and frees the teacher to conduct activities that facilitate learning but are difficult to grade — e.g. observing insects, digging for worms, etc.

   Teachers give a detailed evaluation of each student at the end of the year instead of just giving a card filled with numbers or letters.

2. 

   Holistic/Thematic learning – Traditional schools teach several (usually unrelated) subjects in a day. There is little reinforcement that happens from one topic to the next. The Waldorf system revolves around what they call a “block method” with a main topic that spans several days or weeks. For example, the teacher may allocate a block of two weeks to study Medieval History. During those two weeks, all activities will be focused on Medieval History. They will decorate the room accordingly. They will play relevant music. They will discuss the language, poetry and other literature of that time. They may do drama, crafts, sports or anything related to the theme. One can easily see how this approach can better engage students than to have them sit still listening to 8 different, unrelated lectures every day.

3. Celebrations and Festivals – In line with the desire for holistic learning or educating the “head, heart and hands,” there is a special emphasis placed on celebrations and festivals — as these are believed to connect humanity with the rhythms of nature and the universe. Birthdays are meaningful celebrations. The teacher decorates the room in a special way and the moment the students step in, they know someone has a birthday and they become excited. The teacher then tells a story about the child, about how special he or she is. The story is customized to the child’s personality as the teachers weaves in details about his strengths, talents and gifts. The parents are also invited into the class to share stories and photos about their child.

   Now, isn’t that more meaningful than simply singing “Happy Birthday” and having spaghetti, fries and softdrinks from the nearby fastfood chain?

Tuburan is a Visayan word meaning “wellspring,” reflecting the school’s desire “to pave the way for a wellspring of independent, community-based schools in Mindanao offering a culturally transformative curriculum and pedagogy.” But I see it as more than that. I see it as a dream of two courageous souls who truly want to make an impact in the community.

Tuburan is not just a school, it is a wellspring of love, joy and hope for our children, and their children as well.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Andy Uyboco is a businessman, trainer and speaker. Learn more about Tuburan Institute by visiting school.tuburaninstituteinc.com. Send me your thoughts at andy@freethinking.me.  View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

 

I began the day with an air of anticipation last Tuesday. I was going to visit and observe a Waldorf school called Tuburan Institute in Indangan, Davao City. I have heard about Waldorf schools when I was still based in Manila and I knew that tuition there costs a small fortune. So when I heard about Tuburan and its mission of making this kind of education accessible to the community level, I was naturally intrigued.

The Waldorf system was developed by Rudolf Steiner, an Austrian philosopher and educator who started his first school in 1919 in Stuttgart, Germany. It is called “Waldorf” since the first school was set up to educate the children of the employees of the Waldorf-Astoria Cigarette Company. One can refer to the schools interchangeably as either a Waldorf school or a Steiner school, or even a Waldorf/Steiner school. At present there are over a thousand Steiner schools spread out in around 60 different countries.

I learned about Tuburan when I got an email from one of the co-founders of the school, Maya Vandenbroeck, who had read a previous article I wrote about education and she invited me to visit this very young school so I could see what it was all about.

I arrived a few minutes before class started, and chatted with a couple of teachers, co-founder Kate Estember and Nalini Libera. Kate told me that the Steiner approach was all about rhythm and balance. Education was not just about head knowledge, as is the case in most traditional schools, but also about the heart and the hands. A lot of emphasis goes to feeling and sensing. While we were talking, Nalini was quietly slicing and arranging slices of guava and rambutan in small bowls.

“We start the day by eating together,” said Kate. “This is part of the educational process. Kids eat a lot of artificial ingredients nowadays. We teach them to appreciate the natural taste of fruits. The different colors also stimulate them.”

The kids arrive and Kate sits just outside the door as they form in line in front of her. She gives a warm smile to the first child in line and says “Maayong buntag.” Then she takes out a bottle of Citronella (a natural mosquito repellant) and starts applying them on the arms, legs and neck of each pupil. I observe that she does this task with much affection. It was not just a matter of applying the repellant, but also a way to connect with the pupils through her loving touch.

Once everyone had gone inside, they sat around the tables prepared with fruit. Kate holds the children’s hands and they sing a short song of thanks for the food. Then they begin eating and talking.

“This rambutan is sweet,” says one.

“This guava tastes good. But my favorite fruit is durian,” says another.

After the meal, the kids put their plates in the wash area and go to the play area where there is a shelf of mostly wooden toys. A third teacher, Vivi San Pascual, has arrived and assists some of the kids in laying the mats and giving them toys from the higher shelves. Some kids stay at the tables which have now been transformed into drawing tables, with large sheets of paper and crayons.

The teachers assist the kids when needed but they are mainly left to their devices. They play with whomever they want with whatever toys they want. They draw whatever they want. If there are conflicts between the kids, the teachers are content to let them resolve it by themselves and only intervene when there is a threat to safety. This is part of the educational process, letting children learn to express themselves, build communication and negotiation skills, be comfortable in their own skin and have a better sense of who they are.

“In Tuburan,” explains Kate, “We learn to take time. We don’t pressure the kids. We let them experience and learn things on their own.” I observed the teachers resolving conflicts not by raising their voices or using harsh words, but always with a soothing voice — so gentle it could almost be a love song.

(continue to part 2)

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Andy Uyboco is a businessman, trainer and speaker. Learn more about Tuburan Institute by visiting school.tuburaninstituteinc.com. Send me your thoughts at andy@freethinking.me.  View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.