Teacher/student: Lesson 1 - "Yours, mine and ours."

First, and most importantly, I need to show you how to see for yourself. Do you understand what I mean by that?

I think so.

Tell me.

Well, its like, that its better to figure out something on your own....rather than for someone to tell you point blank.

Getting there, try thinking about why this would be beneficial to your learning, and then answer the question, "How can i see for myself?"

Well, it would be beneficial in the way that its something I could take with me to other situations, instead of waiting for situations to come to me that I can plainly see. Or only surrounding myself with those types of situations.

Good. now how can you begin to do this?

I can begin to do it by....

.....
I realized why he had been smirking.

I've been doing it since he stopped giving me answers
and only questions.

I can begin to do it by simply doing it.

That is quite correct.

But wait...

Yes?

How could that be right? this is a false situation, you are the teacher creating the situation for me. I am a theories stage play. A teachers notion of self gathering put on its student. It isn't real. I can't rely on this unseen aid in the real world.

he was still smirking


"You do realize that I am a very different sort of teacher, I teach the most out of not teaching at all! I present you with the general, then allow you to make out the specifics, and run them through each other, weaving in and out much like a mosaic.
 I show you the spirit of the thing, the hollows, the spaces between where nothing is said or done, but its these spaces, that are what make all the "somethings" possible."


"You're losing me"


He was losing me.


"Then get lost in it. The mosaic. Every mile in the woods is another mile out. It gains on itself and stretches out and in the same. The shrinking and swelling synchronize and stretch the thing that kills comprehension. Your imagination.


He made it more clear to me, and in turn, lost me further into his woods.
 My mosaic, our ancestry,
 all woven as roots winding for miles downward and upward, the same.


I'm getting the big picture slowly as I back away from it carefully. Trying to understand every weaves reason. I realized I was alone here. In front of our tree. By that I mean it was ours and you were told, but nobody could speak here.

Nobody else could speak here in my imagination.
 It would always be me.