Jean-Paul Sartre famously declared that “Hell is other people.” And Dante constructed his Inferno by wedging like-minded souls into very close quarters. You don’t have to attend the MLA Convention to see this principle in operation today. Just think for a moment about your own department, or classroom, or campus. No wonder some administrators dream of an ideal university that has neither faculty nor students. Fortunately, there’s no need to look to another world for solutions. Just punch up our latest, most revolutionary app:
It can be so easy to fall into online habits that put advanced technology to debased uses. How weak we are, one and all! You can gain strength through rigorous self-discipline, or just these new apps for a bit of instant relief:
Acheson’s Rule has proved a major stumbling block to thousands trying to navigate their way through organizations. And universities can be just as confusing as any government, corporation, or church. That’s why conscientious professionals like you need this week’s killer app. Click on the video for details:
This week’s offering is RealityCheck®, using advanced idea-calibration algorithms to safeguard your ambition. For a preview, click on the video:
The R & D Team here at Staying Alive has been hard at work devising a suite of career security apps that we are pleased to release just in time for the new year. Those of you dreading an upcoming tenure review, grant deadline, or MLA convention need look no further for simple, hi-tech solutions! They’re perfect gifts for any stressed-out professional.
Click on the video for a quick preview of our first app, MakeNice®:
In the Staying Alive workshops that Mark and I offer at campuses and conferences, we use yoga postures as emblems for the phases of an academic career. Balance works at the heart of yoga, which tones the whole body, cleanses the internal organs, and promotes both serenity and mindfulness. In Ashtanga yoga, which I practice, every session includes balancing postures as well as the familiar sun salutations, standing poses (such as the Warrior sequence discussed in earlier blogs), bending poses, and seated poses along with twists and stretches. When we talk about leading a balanced life over the course of an academic career, we find that the yoga conception of balance helps people understand how to cope with the competing demands of person, profession, and institution without going nuts.
When I started, the balance poses really threw me for a loop. The teacher looked so calm and graceful when she stretched up into the Tree Pose or lengthened horizontally into Dancer. I have good natural balance, so I thought nothing of it, but when I tried, my legs began wobbling uncontrollably and I almost fell over. I thought it was simply a matter of locking in to the right position. But balance turned out to be a process rather than a state; it was something dynamic, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It turned out to be a matter of core strength as well as focused attention.
I soon learned that every balancing pose begins with a preparatory step, followed by a series of entry moves that culminate in the full pose, which is maintained for a period of time, generally at least five breaths, after which you must exit the pose through another series of moves that return you to a relaxed, standing position. If you try to rush or short-circuit this process, you are likely to fall out and may even injure yourself. It’s important to go step by step, feeling your way and maintaining a sense of control.
Take for example the Dancer Pose, which serves as our emblem for the Citizen Phase. Remember how, in the Warrior poses, we discerned a four-way movement of energy along both vertical and horizontal axes. Here the same geometry applies, but with a shift in configuration appropriate to the challenges and responsibilities of citizenship. The vertical leg supports everything else, representing your foundational skills and values. The forward arm extends outward, projecting energy into the community. The rear leg, rather than being extended backward for support, reaches up to be grasped by the other arm, forming a circle that captures the heavenly light of creativity, passion, and aspiration and then amplifies it in a generative feedback loop that provides the energy to the forward arm.
To get into Dancer you must assume a relaxed standing position with your hands in prayer position, heart-center. Choose your supporting leg, then roll forward onto the ball of the foot, spreading your toes and grounding the foot. Flex your leg, feeling the muscles, and begin to breathe evenly. After two breaths, raise your opposite foot and bring it up behind your buttocks, grasping it with your hand. Steady yourself for a moment, then touch finger to thumb of your opposite hand and, as you breathe in, raise your arm straight up above your head. Now choose something in front of you that’s not going to move and focus on it as you begin to tilt forward from the waist, stretching forward as you push out and back with your opposite leg, still grasped by your opposite hand. Maintain steady, even breathing as you open the circle formed by your leg, arm, and back. After five or more breaths, begin to exit the pose by tilting backward into an upright position. Release your opposite hand and lower your leg to the floor. As you breathe out, lower your extended arm, Release your finger and thumb and come back into a relaxed standing position with your hands in prayer position, heart-center.
It is important to recognize that during the whole process you continue to breathe, ideally in a calm and measured way. Breathing connects inner and outer, and yoga recognizes many different kinds of breath. So, during the entry, holding, and exit from the pose, you are not only dealing with the circulation of energy within your body but also interacting with the environment. Maintaining this vital flow is an ecological and spiritual necessity. As you can see from the photo, Dancer is lovely to look at, and if you try it, you’ll realize that it also feels wonderful. When you are holding the pose, you feel strong and radiant. In life, as in yoga, balance manifests externally as grace and internally as health and happiness. Balance may be thought of as a process of dynamic equilibrium characterized by energy, harmony, and beauty. A person in balance appears to lead a convincing life.
As I practiced the Dancer pose, I soon came to realize that my body was always moving, even when stationary. My muscles were always working; they were never at rest. As I went through the entry, holding, and exit moves, I could sense my muscles communicate with each other, as if they were dancing. I could feel the energy flowing and shifting at need. I could feel my breathing as a nourishing conversation between myself and the larger world that sustained me. Balance, I realized, was not a state but a system, a process, a dance, a constant and ever changing improvisation. And the key was managing energy flows. That’s what Mark and I mean in these workshops by tools for balance: they are techniques for managing your resources and energies. We derive them from stories of people who seem to be leading convincing lives. Balance, therefore, is not something you attain once and then you’re done. It’s a matter of attentive learning and lifelong practice.
(image source: http://thesoniashow.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/dancers-pose.jpg )
Working as a department chair for seven out of the past ten years I have heard my share of faculty who appear to think that the administration is an “other” and that the only viable position to take as a member of the faculty is to oppose what “those people” are doing.
Last night, sitting with a group of students working our way through Walt Whitman’s “Calamus” sequence, one of them called attention to the poem, “I Hear It was Charged Against Me.” We had spent the good part of the past week working through Whitman’s late (and great) essay “Democratic Vistas,” and we had talked about his approach to social and cultural change. “I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions,” Whitman begins his poem. “But really I am neither for nor against them.”
Might Whitman’s response to the charges against him– neither for nor against–be a useful position from which to think about the institution and the positions we occupy within them? In fact, the institution (and our relationship to them) was among the most engaging to John and me when we began talking about these issues seriously. And clarifying just what we are talking about when we talk about institutions (and our relationship to them) has proved to be among the most useful for participants in our Staying Alive workshops.
Here is how John and I describe the academic institution:
1) as a business
- Consists of workers, management, means of production, product, customers, stakeholders
- Runs on money, part of the economy
- Produces education, evaluation/sorting, and research
- A feudal organization (hierarchical, not a democracy, nobility vs. serfs)
2) as conservative, immobile
- A reptilian brain
- Motivated only to survive & grow
- To it you are skilled labor, a function not a person
- Does not care about your personal growth
We can talk about humane values and community until its time to harvest the garlic and potatoes and cabbage. And we should all be deeply engaged in those day-to-day acts that can make our work more humane–in good part by recognizing and valuing every member of the institution. But as we go about our days, we should remember the nature of institutions. That is, when we are working as members of an institution (“both in and out of the game”) we must have a much more informed sense of where we are (“and watching and wondering at it”).
Such was my point in arguing for shared governance: taking part in improving the condition of the institution but not proceeding as if the institution has your (or anyone’s) best interests in mind.
In yoga the warrior poses are the most resolute postures, combining strength, flexibility, and balance. Body and mind are integrated and aligned. Energy flows into you, through you, and out of you toward what is coming. At this time of year, when career decisions come down, we all need warrior skills to meet the challenges offered by desperate situations. One essential principle might be called “Four-Way Vision.”
Consider the Warrior II Pose, also called viribhadrasana or Warrior B. You stand with both feet firmly grounded, one pointing ahead and the other rooted behind; you spread your arms into a T and sink forward, looking straight ahead over the middle finger of your forward hand. You can feel energy rising up through your feet and legs and shooting along your arms. Your back and torso stand straight up, as if a steel lightning rod ran from the crown of your head down your spine and into the ground.
Now think about what this posture betokens. Your feet connect you to the earth; they are your foundation, grounded on your wisdom and skills, the fruits of your experience, education, and character. You draw strength upward from these sources, which can never be taken away.
Your head, spine, and torso connect you with the sky, with heaven. This is where your hopes and aspirations, your best values, and your creativity all come from. The heavenly energy and the earth energy meet in your eyes and shoot out through the arm along which you gaze. This arm reaches out to meet the challenge. It focuses and directs all your energy forward, but it also touches and learns. It does not shrink from contact. It lights up and ignites whatever it meets.
Your other arm reaches back to draw strength from those behind you, that multitude of comrades and supporters who have a stake in your struggle. These are your parents, friends, teachers and mentors. They all care; they all want you to flourish and succeed. They back you up and push you forward.
A warrior needs to remember and practice four-way vision in order to stay balanced and meet the challenge. Can you turn what comes at you into what comes to you? That is the question.
What if you don’t get a job? We’ve all heard horror stories of people driving cabs, working at Starbuck’s, or hanging around campus doing odd jobs; some medicate with dangerous drugs, or, in the worst cases, attempt suicide. No one keeps track of these lost souls; the information is all anecdotal. We all want to live in hope yet can’t shake the creeping fear that failure may be contagious. Fortunately, there are plenty of hopeful stories out there, and we will lift up a few in the next series of posts.
When I arrived in my first (and only) tenure track job, I probed my colleagues delicately for their tenure history, not to betray too green an interest in my own fate. Yes, they had used temporary faculty with some regularity, and no, not everyone had gained tenure, unfortunately. They sounded reassuringly apologetic but also a bit vague. There had been unusual circumstances, sometimes of a personal nature, or the fit wasn’t right, or it turned out to be a bad hire, or the person’s career had taken a new direction, that sort of thing. Mostly, they did not know what had become of their former colleagues, although in one case the person had gone to work for Target and was now making pots of money; he had come down for a visit driving a big fancy car and was apparently putting his intellect and communication skills to good use, with few regrets about escaping from freshman comp and Intro to British lit. This story was conveyed in hushed tones that suggested an odd mix of pity and envy. It gave me a whiff of hope for other possibilities should things not work out as planned.
Eight years later, amid the unplanned wreckage, I met David Cave. He had done graduate work at Chicago and Indiana before taking a PhD in religion from a seminary down in Kentucky. Newly-minted and with his dissertation published by Oxford he looked to be in excellent shape for a tenure-track job. He and his wife, an oncology nurse, had moved to Cincinnati to be near her family; he had obtained a temporary assistant professorship that had recently ended, and he was looking around. Despite great credentials and active scholarship, he could find nothing in the way of a regular job. He had spent several years adjuncting, networking with all the local colleges, and even doing regular commentaries for NPR. He was determined to maintain an intellectual life and keep up his scholarship.
But economics began to catch up with him. Their son was growing apace and the family needed money. He finally took a development internship at one of the big hospitals; he learned the ropes and found that he liked the work of building relationships and helping people find meaning and purpose in supporting a charitable mission. When the internship ended, he became development director for a very small Catholic college, and after five years there he moved over to the University of Cincinnati Foundation, where he worked raising money for the humanities. And five years after that, he moved to the University of Michigan.
During all this time, Dave continued to read, think, teach, and publish. He gave talks, wrote radio commentaries, kept a journal of ideas, and stayed in touch with colleagues in his field. He also organized book groups and found other informal means to pursue the intellectual life. He liked working with faculty and was received as a colleague because of his scholarship and devotion to teaching and education. Now, at Michigan, he’s actively involved with the humanities, engaging individual graduates and friends of the College of Literature, Science, and the Arts to support the priorities and ventures of departments, programs, and the college as a whole. He and his wife live in wonderful Ann Arbor, where they host a popular literary salon. His development work takes him to places like Washington, Atlanta, and Miami where he cultivates visions and ideas with smart, well-placed alumni. And he continues to read and publish actively in his field.
Dave inspired me with his resourcefulness and devotion to a felt calling. Initially, he was disappointed not to land a regular teaching job, but he found ways to stay alive intellectually and other venues in which to pursue both teaching and scholarship. He found another way to make a living that proved surprisingly rewarding, not only for its intrinsic satisfactions and good income, but also for keeping him connected to the university. I was reminded how many poets, musicians, and artists have had other day jobs: think of Wallace Stevens or Charles Ives, both of whom sold insurance, James Joyce, who worked in a bank, or William Carlos Williams tending his patients. The truth is that most of us have more than one passion, and there is always more than one way to use our skills. A job can’t and shouldn’t provide everything. Like Thoreau, we’d do better with a broad margin to our life, to keep a light hand on the tiller and take the widest possible view of our horizons.
Here is a detailed example of balance in grad school that was presented at the June ASLE workshop, reprinted here with the author’s permission.
“I remember grad school as competitive and neurotic, with everyone obsessing about their work and generally bent to the task. In this unwholesome environment, Tom H. stood out. He was physically healthy, smart, good looking, and seemed remarkably sane. He climbed mountains, played hockey, lived in a neat and tasteful apartment, grew basil and tomatoes in a backyard garden, and studied hard but not too hard. He never complained or put anybody down in conversation. Intellectually, he engaged issues vigorously but could also be convinced: he was that rare thing, a truly rational person. He focused on mainstream literature of the Renaissance and seemed generally skeptical of literary theory, although he was well-informed. Overall, he struck me as very well-balanced and emotionally secure, something that I myself certainly was not. He had a good sense of humor and a diverse and loyal circle of friends; I believe that he inaugurated the tradition of dinner parties where each guest would bring an offering to the evening’s entertainment, perhaps a poem to read or an instrument to play. He got involved with one of the undergraduate colleges, coaching intramural hockey and organizing faculty-student get-togethers. Later, when he was denied tenure despite prize-winning publications, he reinvented himself, first as a dean and then as a lawyer.”
In discussion the group derived several key tools from this story: pay attention to your bodily health, cultivate diverse friendships, get involved with undergraduate life, make room for self-nurturing activities such as gardening, cooking, or entertaining, and above all treat your career with a light but sensitive touch.
Next up: More tools from the ASLE workshop