The Silent Walk

All Senior School Hike Day held during spring semester each year gives students at Woodstock many choices.  Faculty come up with the ideas… a history walk of local historical sites; a literature walk where students read exerpts along the way; a drawing walk where students stop and draw a scene.  There was also the physically challenging walk, the tour of religious sites walk, etc.  My idea was “the Silent Walk” in which students would vow not to speak during the entire day except to share their impressions once we reached our destination, Pepper Pot Cave about 6 kilometers out Tehri Road and up a hill.   Some faculty said “good luck” if you can get the kids to keep quiet for that long!  I myself wondered if any kids would sign up and I urged the organizers not to assign the silent walk to anyone who didn’t choose it. 

So I was pleasantly surprised when on the morning of the walk three faculty and I set off with 21 students under a clear blue sky at 9 am.  They knew the rules:  no talking, remain mindful, and try to still your thoughts as well.  At the very least, observe your thoughts as they arise.  Once we get to our destination we will have time to write in our journals, to share thoughts in a circle, then go back into silence while we eat our lunch, spend time in nature and then walk back.   

Here are some photos taken along the way:

After hiking for about 2 hours with a few breaks, we climbed straight up the side of a hill...

and reached the little “Pepperpot Cave!”  Once upon a time it was the rage to see how many kids could fit inside a telephone booth (remember those?). We thought we would see how many of us could fit inside the cave:   It was fun to cram in there, and take photos all the while remaining silent!:

After this everyone was given time to write down impressions.  Of course many of the boys never even brought a notebook!  After a half hour, we shared some reflections.  Most students remained silent while a few shared their impressions, including the heightened awareness of the bird calls and other sounds of nature around them. 

Priyankar, a student, read a poem he had written: 

The mama eagle tells the baby eagle to fly but she knows that tomorrow there shall be no wings to fly with. The mountains hide behind the hills. They are shy and want to hide their beauty. As they age they know that they are getting uglier. Their beauty is fading and all they can do is wait. The villagers leave their home to study, to work, to live but the bourgeois invade the villages to see where true beauty resides. It's a paradox, we always want what is beyond the Rubicon. The idols in the temple are lonely, they are falling apart, awaiting for their priest to come, but their prayers shall remain unanswered for eternity. The springs are silent but the birds are singing. The clouds are dancing but they have no rain. The trees are growing but they have no roots. And I just watch, in silence, without a thing to do. Priyankar Chand Then Ed Beavan, one of the faculty read his poem as well: Donkeys braying, Some of us praying, Little puppy yelping, As we start our walk. Jabbarkhet bustling, Crisp packets rustling, Birds crowing, Nature growing around us as we walk, Huffing and puffing, And the clomping, stomping of our feet. Constant sniffing, and whiffing, of the mountain air, Coughing, spluttering, watching birds fluttering, Before we end up at the caveman's lair. All of us enjoying the beauty and silence, Away from the violence, and hustle and bustle Of everyday life. All this, with my beautiful wife. But at the same time, Some of us want to shout, cry out! But why? Why? When silence is so golden, Looking out on the snowy peaks beholden. Ed Beavan Wish you could hear him read it with his great English accent!  Ed is a journalist from England, newly married to Kristen Bradby, our director of admissions and like me, new to Woodstock.  He cracked us up at the new faculty orientation when he asked if his paycheck could be deposited in his wife’s account.  I blurted out “What country are YOU from?”   Having this young couple, so much in love in our midst just brightens everything at Woodstock…  I too could not resist writing a poem in such a fantastic setting.  I had spent the walk alternating between being totally present with the sun in my face and worrying about what the kids were up to, namely whether they were talking or not, and then reminding myself that I am not “in charge” really.  They will or they won’t take advantage of the experience!  So I looked out at the scene, and saw the beautiful snow caps of the distant mountains and felt I was blessed to catch this glimpse of another world.  No wonder some of the early Theosophists simply disappeared into the Himalayas… literally! Did some of the students talk?  Of course.  I had to remind some of the boys that they had signed up for the experience, no one had forced them, and then they settled down to enjoy the moment: In the end, we walked back in silence and stopped once more in a little village to take a group photo. The Silent Walk My instructions encircle them Like a straightjacket For their impulses An opening lens Into their unformed souls. Don’t buy that product Purchase instead with silence Your freedom from having to be Anything in anyone else’s eyes. Walking the path Waving down the other With our habitual kicking Arm thrashing And murmured smiles Even in the presence of the Great Expanse. Maybe it is too much for us, this Threatening vastness, this Terrifying detail of beauty. We would rather be small In our everyday comfort Of needless words Mindless thoughts Dreaming us into a better future Of their making. The Escape of silence We must tell ourselves Is Not a death of self But the beginning of Life as we have never known it. Roxanne Gupta 3/1/12