How the two became one
One hundred years ago, Maria Montessori learned by observing children and translated what she saw into applications that have revolutionized education.
Some 1,500 years ago, Bodhidharma observed the animals and noted how they exercised and taught their young. He shared his knowledge with an order of monks who were weak from sitting and writing all day without exercise. The monks were the Shaolin, and they revolutionized the arts of exercise and combat while achieving incredible levels of intellectual and emotional development.
The parallels of the two philosophies continue. Each recognizes the importance of a well-rounded education and believes in educating through mentors in a mixed-age grouping. Each believes in the benefits of encouraging the student to explore and develop his or her interests. Each respects diversity and individualism. Each cares about the planet and creating a better world. Each is respected by those that understand its philosophy, and has met prejudice from those that do not.
I was unaware of the parallels when I went to see the Shaolin perform their legendary kung fu as part of Toronto’s Chinese New Year celebrations. I was only aware of their entertainment value. As head of Toronto Montessori Schools (TMS), I attended as a guest of Xinping Li, a producer who is involved in Montessori in China. She was co-ordinating the troupe’s Canadian tour and offered me front-row seats.
After the amazing show, Xinping took me backstage to meet Master Liu, the highest ranking monk after the Shaolin Temple’s abbot. In a brief time, I learned the Shaolin are a national treasure of China and that “kung fu” translates to “achievement.” Master Liu explained their martial arts training is defensive, not offensive. The Shaolin seek individual enlightenment, and despite their reputation in the West, they are more concerned with building brains than breaking boards.
I also learned that scientists, philosophers and athletes had for decades been coming to China to study with the Shaolin.
Because of that serendipitous meeting, I was able to arrange for a historic enterprise. For the first time in their history, the Shaolin would come to North America to share their philosophy of life. They would share it with our students, their parents, our staff and anyone else we invited. This would not be a series of lectures, but actual sharing of philosophical and historical information with questions, answers and interaction.
The paperwork took some time, but finally four Shaolin monks, a translator and Xinping arrived to stay for two months. They would teach at our school, but they would live at my house.
There was a learning curve as our two cultures tried to understand one another, and of course, a language barrier the translator bridged. But within a very short time, we understood one another. It is amazing how much a smile, a wave of the hands or a roll of the eyes can communicate.
The Shaolin helped us create a series of classes. Before school, we held Mind and Body exercise, breathing and meditation classes for teachers and parents. After school we offered exercise and kung fu for the students. As well, we held half-day, one-day and three-day retreats for parents and members of the business community.
Between training sessions, the monks visited our classrooms to discuss Asian studies and cultural differences. Not once did they break a board and, to my surprise, no student asked them to do so.
During these encounters we realized how well informed the monks were about the arts, the sciences and life in general. “We are much like a university,” Master Zhuang, the eldest of the monks, explained through the translator, “where we strengthen our bodies so that we can strengthen our minds.”
TMS benefited in many ways from their visit, including incredible amounts of wonderful publicity as a school reaching out to learn. But my family and I were the greatest beneficiaries. Living with the monks taught us to truly understand living in the moment (as opposed to living for the moment), investing the very essence of your existence in what you are doing at any given time.
There are two memories that will live with me forever that exemplify this Shaolin philosophy. The first is Master Zhuang cooking in my kitchen. Without rush, he laid out the ingredients for our meal as a small amount of oil heated in the wok. Each step of preparation was a moment he savoured. He took time to study the shell of an egg before cracking it. He arranged the ingredients as if posing them for a still life. Then, relaxed with one hand resting behind his back, oblivious to all else, he peacefully cooked a meal for the six of us.
The second occurred late one night, when I opened the door to our bedroom and peered over the railing into the foyer after hearing soft laughter. In the dark, framed in moonlight, Master Zhuang was standing in front of our two normally rambunctious dogs. One hand was again behind his back. The dogs were sitting at attention, focused on him. When they heard me, they turned their heads but instead of running toward me as was their habit, they turned their attention back to the smiling, gentle monk. He was teaching them to meditate! The gentle laughter was his as he shared the meaning of the moment with the animals.
To say, “We learned much from the Shaolin,” does not approach telling the story. Nor is the impact of their visit covered with, “They touched the lives of everyone they met.”
I can only share with you how they touched mine.
About Judith Cunningham
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