ADAM
For a timeless while, Adam strolled through the lovely green countryside, relishing the peace that rolled over the gentle hills in a presence like that of the morning fog.
Adam thought not of where he went, nor of whence he came. He knew only that where he was at any particular moment, that must be the place where he was meant to be.
At times, he would blow a dandelion and watch it be carried away in the arms of the wind, or watch a leaf from a tree fall fluttering to the ground; and to them he would call them brother.
Indeed, aimless and free, he floated over the land in joy.
Until one day, when he came to a town.
Down the middle of this town ran a road lined by two brick walls to either side.
Facing these two walls stood the townspeople, lined up and banging their heads against the bricks. In time, like gears in a clock, their bodies would sway back and forth, their heads making a dull thud against the hard bricks.
The sight of two rows of people willfully knocking their heads against two brick walls...well, struck Adam as a bit peculiar, to say the least.
But to each their own, he thought, shrugging and continuing straight ahead through the town, now leaving the cool, soft grass for the hard, lifeless road.
He tried at first to ignore these strange people, to be content with his joyful thoughts. But when he had walked halfway down the road, his curiosity had him ask a man why he banged his head upon a wall.
“What else should I be doing?” said the man, who had paused in his activity. “My father did it, as did his father—for generations down the line. It’s what I’ve been brought up to do.”
“Does it not hurt?” asked the confused Adam.
“What? You mean banging your head? Hell, you get used to it. There are worse ways for a man to make a living.” The man resumed his work.
As Adam stood there trying his hardest to imagine a worse way to make a living, in front of each person, from slots in the walls, fell silver coins. Everyone stopped, picked up their coins, looked to their neighbors to see if they had earned more, then continued striking the walls.
The man Adam had just spoken to held up one of the coins. “See, it makes it all worth it.
“And besides, it gives a man a purpose. It gives him respect. If you know what I mean.” He looked accusingly at Adam, before facing again the wall.
Adam walked away saying to himself: Who needs a purpose anyway, especially one as inane as banging one’s head against a brick wall, just to earn some silly coins?
Is there no better purpose than to be able to send forth, onto the world, thoughts of joy?
Anyhow, what do I care what they think of me?
Yet as he pressed forward upon the hard road, and began noticing the glares of accusation and disgust from those he passed, he found himself stopping several times to explain:
“I do what I do because I find peace in my freedom. I follow only the dictates of my heart. I do not need such a purpose as yours.
“I love simply who I truly am.”
Yet no one made reply. And more and more, Adam would stop to explain. Until, at last, he took his place, at the end of the line.
—Janaka Stagnaro, excerpt from Silent Ripples: Parables for the Soul
"We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."—Joseph Campbell
I wrote this parable a half a lifetime ago, when I was traveling the world with my backpack, after living in Cameroon working with the Peace Corps. I had returned home by Christmas time after two years abroad, living a simple life. I was appalled at the mad commercialism I witnessed as people ran around frantically buying gifts. I soon picked up my backpack again and continued the journey.
Even with a family to support, years later, I have not felt like I have ever had to bang my head in meaningless work, something which I had committed I would not do and which my angels have made possible. The Covid pandemic helped many people see that they could no longer continue banging their heads for a few coins. I know of several Sustack friends,
and , who left the line and took up a simpler, more meaningful life.In Waldorf education (in which I have taught for over 25 years), how children are motivated to work is to give them meaningful work and to instill love for the teacher, who they see as constantly learning in a variety of fields. As you move up with the children, the teacher must continue to grow, and the bond between teacher/student becomes very strong.
Rudolf Steiner abhorred the idea of classical conditioning, of reward and punishment, as such conditioning should be only used with animals and not human beings. This year, I am an art teacher in a public elementary school. At this school, they use Otter Dollars to dole out to children so that they may buy trinkets, in order to motivate them to do the required work.
In order to get my teaching credential to work in a charter school years ago, I had to do this BTSA program for new teachers in the district. They handed us a giant binder full of worksheets. Fortunately, the pedagogical head at my new school, a Waldorf Charter school, said she would do some of the work for me and a couple of other new teachers. I realized that with around a hundred new teachers to process, and since we would submit them in the last class for return by the end of the class, I knew they wouldn't be read. So I wrote blah, blah on most of the sheets or practiced writing fiction on others. And sure enough, they returned our meaningless work with a check and a well done.
That was what it was like in my schools growing up. Meaningless.
Fortunately, in my art room, I have sovereignty, and I will not use dollars to motivate my students. I will let the meaningfulness of art lead them down paths of discovery.
The principal came in the other day before classes began and said she wished every class had me for four days a week, because of how I taught brought meaning to the students. She confessed to feeling constrained by the drumbeat of assessing every student that the district demands. She, like all my colleagues, has their heart in the right place, but is trapped in a closed system, like a hamster wheel.
The other night, I bit my tongue while dreaming so badly that I bled. While I have shared my views here and there at the school, even with the superintendent, I have to bite my tongue at the norms of a school system that teaches children to grow up to be headbangers, making it all worthwhile by the Otter Dollars for their cracked skulls.
Trusting that the art will soften the blows.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. What are your thoughts about living a meaningful life, to stop banging against the wall?
Written by a human.
Thank you so much for sharing this. Always overwhelmed by your gorgeous art and profound insights!
Oh my, Janaka. Firstly, I have an unfinished fiction story I started last year about Adam, who walks away from work that is not feeding his soul. You inspire me here to go back and finish it.
I like your story, but I am saddened by the ending. Finally Adam takes his place at the end of the line? :( Perhaps though, it's the perfect ending, because if people see the first man being the last man to give in to the system's "formula for life", it is the inspiration for them to stand up and say, "No way, NOT Adam too!" I notice it is often easier for people to become indignant for others than it is for themselves. When Adam becomes the underdog, well... It does not bode well for humanity, does it?
Thank you for mentioning Humanity's Future at the end of your story. I'm trying to hold the line outside the line. :)
And, your students are very lucky to have a teacher such as you.