Orientation

My graduate course officially commenced last Thursday with a daylong orientation event held in the very agreeable surroundings of the University’s Urban Horticulture centre. The orientation was markedly different from anything I had previously experienced, as it was organized and conducted by second year students. The session was designed to be an icebreaker and was described on the agenda as: 'providing opportunities for community-building in celebration and recognition of our commonalities and differences. Emphasis will be placed on initiating the development of a professional identity and in establishing a dynamic and respectful teaching and learning community.’

Now in all honesty, when I read this statement of purpose I had no idea what it meant or what it had to do with icebreakers, social work or even my studies. These session goals did not sound like any icebreakers I had previously experienced - the kind of sessions I generally place on par with other equally constructive and exciting activities like train spotting or bog snorkelling. However, I was willing to suspend my deep cynicism and disinterest in the hope that on this side of the Pond it would be different.

The day began with an introduction from our second year facilitators, who introduced themselves as Team ‘O’. They did so in the kind of cheerleading, peppy fashion normally associated with characters from movies aimed at young teenage girls. Seemingly unaware of the huge clichéd elephant in the room, they actually proceeded to perform the US style team hands in and break, whilst shouting loudly their team name. I think at this point a small part of me died inside…

For our first exercise we were invited to create a ‘space’ of nurture, respect and understanding by each sharing the stories of our ‘souls’. The use of the plural tense was deliberate, as it was acknowledged that some of the students present might have more than one story to tell – the inference being that a multiple of souls and therefore stories was conceivable and probable. We were asked to represent the stories of our soul/s through the medium of drawing, as this would free us from the disempowering and oppressive lexicon of society.

Fifteen minutes, four crayons and two glitter pens later, I was fairly pleased with my ‘soul timeline’. I had managed to resist the urge to represent the stories of my other previous lives as I thought that this would only cloud the ‘space’ I was trying to create. So I dropped the illustrations of my previous lives as Bhupat the Nepali Sherpa boy, Billy-Ray the wandering hobo and Claude the French trapeze artist. Despite this, my matchstick men did a valiant job of illustrating my life story to the present day.

Following on from this exercise, we were invited as a group to begin a meditative journey of ‘self-care’. This journey was designed to guide us towards a ‘sacred inner space’ to find our ‘eternal spring of wellness’. This spring would assist us to maintain and nourish our joy throughout the course of the graduate program. Unlike every other journey I have taken, this one was to be conducted with my eyes closed and by crossing the ‘threshold of inner-knowing’ along the ‘true path’ to find my eternal spring.

My journey towards my ‘sacred inner space’ was treacherous, as I got lost a few times along the way. I did stop to ask for directions from my fellow students but most seemed oblivious to my request with oddly serene looks on their faces. I guess their paths must have been easier to navigate than mine. However, I managed to get back onto the ‘true path’ and found myself headed towards a pair of golden arches. It was at this moment that I felt a strange sensation in my stomach, as if it was pulling me towards the arches. I headed towards this golden glow guided by the sensation….

Now apparently, my ‘eternal spring of wellness’ is not McDonalds nor is my ‘sacred inner space’ located in my stomach. As much as a Big Mac will bring me joy it will not be sufficient or sustaining for the barren winter months of my soul’s journey. I think I may have a taken a wrong turn somewhere along the ‘true path’ to my ‘sacred inner space’ and gotten lost. Or maybe I should have adhered to my ‘inner voice’, which warned to avoid all such quasi-religious, pseudo-spiritual nonsense and search for real meaning. However, the meditative journey was a success, as the class did bonded together in a shared appreciation of these ridiculous and in every sense mystical activities.

1 – 0 to cynicism…