Radical Pedagogy (2014)

Volume 11 Number 2
ISSN: 1524-6345

PDF 

Awakening to Lifelong Learning: Contemplative Pedagogy as Compassionate

Engagement

Kristen C. Blinne
Department of Communication Arts
SUNY College at Oneonta, USA
Email: weaveproject@yahoo.com

Abstract
Employing performative writing, this essay asks the reader to consider the
role contemplative practices could play in both teaching and learning. By building
bridges to connect critical and contemplative pedagogy, I situate teaching not only
as a practice of compassionate engagement, but also as an opportunity to embrace
and practice mettacommunication.
Keywords: Contemplative pedagogy, mindfulness, compassion,
communication, metta

To engage fully in the spirit of this essay and hoping to enhance your
reading experience, I humbly invite you to take several moments to try mindful
breathing, perhaps watching Thich Nhat Hanh, featured in the short video “Peace
is the Way,” as an opportunity to focus your intention. Next, find a comfortable
sitting position, lengthen your spine, softly focus your eyes on an object in front of
you, and then concentrate your attention on your breath. Both inhale and then
exhale through your nose. You might wish to include a verbal marker with each
breath, such as, “breathing in, breathing out” or “rising, falling,” paying close
attention to any thoughts, emotions, or sensations that arise. Acknowledge these
and return your focus to your breath. Take a minute or two for this activity and
upon completion, consider:
 Were you able to focus solely on your breath? What, if any, distractions
challenged your attention? How long were you able to engage in this activity?
Contemplating your experience further, what benefits, if any, might arise from
incorporating contemplative practices such as mindful breathing into your daily
life? In a broader context - what does mindfulness mean to you? Moreover, how
relevant might it be for you as a teacher/learner to incorporate contemplative
practices into your teaching or research? My intention is to contemplate these
questions and hopefully inspire you to awaken to lifelong learning through
contemplative pedagogy. Defined broadly, contemplative pedagogy, from my
experience, speaks to any teaching or learning moment that develops and expands
relational awareness via self-inquiry, resulting from heightened present-moment
attention and compassionate engagement with oneself and the world.

In this essay, I write as a method of inquiry (Richardson, 2000), employing

performative writing (Pelias, 2011; Coylar, 2009) as a practice to highlight this
process. In doing so, writing is itself a contemplative practice, which I believe can
and does change the world as it constructs worlds. With this practice, you will
notice that I lean (Pelias, 2011) heavily on the words of others, frequently
eschewing the academic convention of paraphrasing to create a more polyvocal
text, recognizing that the personal is always political, and the political and
performative are often pedagogical. I see my teaching as a performance but I also
see performatively writing about teaching as a way to contemplate, challenge, and
breathe life into and hopefully inspire new realities for myself and others. Thus,
this performative text also serves as my teaching manifesto as well as a call for
contemplative pedagogy.

While my focus in this paper is higher education, I contend that

contemplative pedagogy is equally valuable in K-12 settings. Further, any class can
incorporate contemplative pedagogy into the curriculum, and professors from a
wide range of varying disciplines, such as art, communication, dance, economics,
education, composition, environmental studies, nursing, philosophy, psychology,
religion, and social work, among many others, are already doing so (Center for
Contemplative Mind in Society, n.d.). By embracing contemplative pedagogies
within my classroom, I have found that students feel inspired to question their
learning process and all of the components of being together as a learning
community, knowing they can cultivate their presence and engage in self-learning
while also learning to listen, dealing with everyday stresses, and creating a deeper
sense of belonging if they care enough and have enough compassion for each other
to do so.

  2 
 For me, this creates an opportunity to teach, learn, and practice
mettacommunication, a contemplative practice, which I describe as an emergent
process wherein we learn to acknowledge and take responsibility for our
interactions with others by recognizing our shared vulnerability (Blinne, 2014). To
illustrate this mindfulness-in-process, I invite you to move with me through one
day as I tune in and out of the present moment, hopefully inspiring a kind of
“withness-thinking” (Shotter, 2011) about the space between you and me – this
essay – and our interconnected lives.

Early Morning…

Scanning the flyers haphazardly posted on the cluttered wall, my eyes zero
in on the words – Awakening to Life. At the same time I am staring at these words,
questions are constantly intruding into my awareness: Did I turn off the stove
before leaving the house? Where did I put that book? Do I have a meeting later? I
am frequently stressed due to my long work hours, lack of sleep, and sometimes
unbalanced eating habits, and adding no-time-to-exercise to this list, I feel
scattered a great percentage of the time. Warren (2011) comforts me, advising:

It is easy to become bogged down with expectation, requirement, work load,

and other factors that will feel like weights on our spirit; however, these
‘facts’ are stories, that when told, can hide the joy of our jobs. Looking back
at my career so far, I think about how much time I wasted talking about how
burdened I was. And although I have been busy and stressed, I have recently
become committed to look for the joy, the wonder, and the true generosity
my job enables me to experience (p. 142).

Resonating with his experience, I also often feel burdened by the many tasks and
hours required to complete the work an academic life demands. I want to embrace
Gibran’s (1973) words from his poem, “On Work,” that - “work is love made
visible.” I want my work to be more than a job, career, or calling (Bochner, 2009).
Instead, I want it to be a joyful effort or commitment (Hartnett, 2011) or even
better “…love made visible.”

Rushing through each day, I phone, text, email, work, eat, and try to find
spaces to rest and sleep. In this chaos, it is easy to go into an “autopilot” mode,
tuning in and out of my surroundings, never fully present in the moment,
multitasking as I go. I am doing this again. Returning to the words before me, I
continue reading the Awakening to Life brochure,

  3 
 When talking with a friend, cooking for family, participating in a meeting at
work, or simply driving in traffic, are we really "here," focused on this
moment and experience? Do we eat, shop, and otherwise consume in a
mindful and healthy manner? Practicing mindfulness will help us to "show
up" for life, make deliberate and healthy choices, and more fully enjoy the
rich experience of the present moment.

Have I not been showing up for life? Am I not awake to all that life has offered me
–now? Going over my ever-growing school-related “things to do list” has made me
realize again how easy it is to become unfocused in my day-to-day activities. In
front of the cluttered wall, Haight’s (2010) words taunt me, “It could be said that
the only activity one’s attention is not on is the actual activity in which one is
engaged” (p. 32). I know, I know, here I am again wandering away from the
moment. Standing quietly, I contemplate this idea. Minutes pass. My watch blinks:
4:50 p.m. Shit. If I do not hurry, I will be late. Sprinting across campus, I find
myself quantifying my semester… feedback on 900 pages of student work… 120
hours of class…

My shoe becomes untied as my bag slides off my shoulder, I hop while I

attempt to retie the laces. Sweat pools on my forehead and back. Wait. Stop.
Breathe. Take a moment. I tie my shoe and reposition my bag. Go. Breathing in as
I step, breathing out as I step, the calculation continues…answered at least 1000
emails. Catching myself holding my breath again, I arrive at my classroom on time.
Barely.

Office Hours…

I sit at my desk contemplating my teaching philosophy. Journaling, I

scribble the words, “contemplative pedagogy” in my notebook, which reminds me
that I am always committed to transgressing teaching-learning boundaries so I can
respond to student/learners as unique beings, active participants in the learning
process, employing a holistic approach to learning, emphasizing well-being, action,
and reflection. As such, I seek to address social problems by situating teaching as
compassionate engagement via mindfulness-in-action through nonviolent
communication (Rosenberg, 2003; Hanson Lasater & Lasater 2009), recognizing
that I cannot compassionately engage with others without mindfully attending to
my own healing and suffering. Writing these names - Bernie Glassman, Norman
Denzin, Fran Grace, Nina Asher, Leela Fernandes, Martin Luther King, Jr… - I
begin a mindfulness map.

  4 
 I love you, Bernie Glassman (2011), of the Zen Peacemakers, for showing
me through your actions and words that I can be a better teacher if I give up fixed
ideas about myself, others, and the universe when possible. Challenging, yes.
Worth pursuing, yes. You also model wisdom and compassion when you bear
witness to the joy and suffering of others, giving me the courage to do the same for
myself and the world around me. Each day a new lesson. By engaging in loving
actions, like you, I teach from the heart, which I feel is the best and only place
from which to start inspiring others’ desires to awaken to lifelong learning. Each
day a new lesson plan.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath: Norman, I stand with you,
wanting to change the world (Denzin, 2010). I can no longer stand idly by and
watch, wait, and feel paralyzed by the inequality and ever-present cruelty
surrounding me. It is all too easy to adapt and become victims of a pathological
system that teaches us to embrace the status quo while killing our creativity and
punishing us for questioning power structures. I need a new map to story the
trajectory of my teaching and learning life. I accept that I am, in Dr. Martin Luther
King Jr’s terms “creatively maladjusted” because to be well-adjusted to a system
that sustains violence, intolerance, and injustice is just sick (Chase, 2007, p. 3).

My heart yearns for both personal and social transformation. Following in

the footsteps of Nhat Hanh (1999; 2006), I walk forward knowing that peace is the
way, contemplation is the path, and compassionate engagement is the journey.
Others (Campbell & Kryszewska, 1992; Shor, 1996; Freire, 1998; Moreno-Lopez,
2005; Fassett & Warren, 2007; Danielewicz & Elbow, 2009; Denzin, 2009, 2010)
guide me as well, reminding me, "Such mindful engagement with one's world
implies that both political activism against and intellectual critique of oppressive
forces and structures are necessary for transformation" (Asher, 2003, p. 238). On
my journey, I carry with me a politics of possibility and hope (Denzin, 2010) in an
often unjust world (Plummer, 2005), never forgetting it “is not about a goal, an
outcome, or even effort. It is about being alive to the lifelong path of self-
evolution- thereby becoming a beneficial presence in the world, to all beings. Isn’t
that what any effective pedagogy aims to do?” (Grace, 2011, p. 118). I want to be a
beneficial presence in the world. Being a teacher brings me closer to this path
although I have often struggled to bring my activist commitments in conversation
with my spiritual practice within my classes.

Grace (2011) helps me to see these intersections more clearly so I can make
this possible by explaining that social justice, liberatory, or critical pedagogy
practices are “second-person pedagogies,” which emerge from dialogue, multiple

  5 
contents, and understanding the intersections of race, class, gender, and so on, so
students can become agents of change in the world. While these approaches can
help revolutionize students’ thinking about the importance of humanity, ultimately,
she warns, it is important to build a bridge between “second-person” pedagogies
and “first-person, contemplative-based” pedagogies to cultivate a sustainable
humanity that does not dismiss self-knowledge like “third-person pedagogies”
following a banking or container model of imprinting knowledge on blank
canvases.

Building a bridge between these ways of being in the world is crucial to

helping learners and the teachers who teach them, while learning from them to
become more attuned to a variety of social realties, hopefully encouraging all
parties to become more aware of what they value and how they think,
communicate, feel, and act in their everyday lives. Building on this, contemplative
pedagogy and mindfulness practices create opportunities to question the tension
between ideas of individualism and interdependence, reminding me there is a
world outside of my own self-centeredness, and it is important to be aware of the
impact I make in my own life as well as the lives of others. To become aware of
this is to learn to think critically about the present moment by countering the
mindlessness, resulting from engaging uncritically or moving through one’s day or
life on “autopilot” (Langer, 1989, p. 79).

Asher (2003) enters my thoughts because she, too, has been inspired by the
words of Nhat Hanh, advocating for a pedagogy of interbeing, also discussing the
importance of self-knowledge, stating, “It is only by looking deeply into one’s
‘self’ that one can see the ‘other’ and recognize how one’s own past, present, and
future are linked to those of different others and vice versa” (p. 238). This thinking
captures the type of compassionate engagement I strive to actualize in my teaching.
I make no claim that compassionate engagement is an everyday teaching
occurrence nor that it is more than a utopian ideal at best; however, it one in which
I attempt to remember each class session as an everyday peacemaking practice,
reminding me to recognize my shared humanity with others by considering how
we each suffer, love, live, and die together as interdependent individuals living in a
collective world. Together we share the power to shape and change our interwoven
realities.

To fully articulate my ideas about teaching as compassionate engagement, I

need Leela Fernandes’ (2003) help as she has also inspired my commitment to
compassionate engagement and the "possibilities of spiritualized social
transformation of this world, one that seeks to challenge all forms of injustice,

  6 
hierarchy and abuse from the most intimate daily practices in our lives to the larger
structures of race, gender, class, sexuality, and nation" (p. 11). In advocating for a
spiritual approach to teaching, via compassionate engagement, I am not asserting
any specific spiritual or religious beliefs; rather, I am trying to model a stance that
encourages recognition of our interbeing or interconnectedness through nonviolent
communication and action. To embrace interbeing is to come to understand our
radical relatedness. Thus, when we are:

overflowing with understanding and compassion, we can appreciate the

wonders of life, and, at the same time, act with the firm resolve to alleviate
suffering. Too many people distinguish between the inner world of the mind
and the world outside, but the worlds are not separate. They belong to the
same reality (Nhat Hanh, 1998, p. 4).

To do so, I know I must surrender to the "dailiness of practices" (Fernandes, 2003)

because I cannot expect change in my activist projects or in my teaching if I do not
incorporate these goals and practices within my daily life.

To situate teaching as compassionate engagement is to acknowledge the

spiritual potential of compassion, harmony, tolerance, transcendence, and
mindfulness with a deeply rooted concern for others via interactions that first seek
to do no harm and then attempt to tend to the suffering of others, linking daily
activities of one's personal life with activism and service. In other words, personal
and social transformation have become inseparable for me. Teaching then becomes
a type of "compassion organizing" (Dutton et al., 2006; Frost, 1999), attending to
the suffering of others (including, noticing or attending to another, imagining or
feeling empathetic concern, and acting to ease suffering); coordinating
organizational resources for compassionate action; and finally, engaging or
organizing collective action to end suffering. I suffer, and in suffering, seek to
understand the suffering of others, while seeking spaces of healing. How else can
we love and support each other?

When I reflect on the damage that boundaries and dualities create, such as
theory and method, theory and practice, research and teaching, self and other
(teacher-student), black and white, rich and poor, women and men, intelligent and
unintelligent, powerful and powerless, I can better see how these binaries do a
huge disservice to the transformative potential of living, loving, acting, and
learning both within the academy and outside its walls. I believe teaching, as
compassionate engagement, is a practice that calls for educators to discontinue this
dichotomous thinking or risk severely limiting the potential of lifelong learning

  7 
collaborations. To be pedagogically adjusted to these splits is pathological to
developing new educational paradigms. Simply put: We need more creatively
maladjusted teachers in the world, right?

Late Afternoon…

Sitting in the meditation hall with thirty or so other participants, I attempt to

relax my body and clear my mind. The teacher begins:

The class is intended for those new to the practice of mindfulness, as well as
those seeking to establish a more consistent daily mindfulness practice. Each
class will focus on experiencing the basic practices for establishing
mindfulness, while leaving time for discussion and sharing. Participants will
experience sitting and walking meditation, mindful movements, deep
relaxation, loving kindness meditation, and practicing mindfulness in
everyday life.

Hoping to be create more time for contemplation in my life, I had

enthusiastically signed up for this course with the intention of reintegrating
contemplative practices into my everyday routine. Several weeks into the
mindfulness course, it became apparent to me that a large percentage of the
participants were also teachers. Like me, I wondered whether they were drawn to
mindfulness due to their busy schedules, frequent stress, compassion fatigue,
burnout, or some other reason.

“Before we begin, I would like us to set our intention for our meditation”,
the teacher continued. My thoughts are cluttered – in…tension. Surely the teacher
did not just say “in tension.” I am tense. What am I hearing? It has been another
long and stressful day. “Your body is always present”, she reminds us. “It is your
mind that wanders, dancing in the past, projecting to the future, and not focusing
on the present. Our intention in this moment is to let go of the stresses and worries
so that we can arrive in the now and focus on our breath.” She intones,

Breathing in, I know I am breathing in.

Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.

As the in-breath grows deep, the out-breath grows slow.

Breathing in makes me calm. Breathing out brings me ease.

  8 
 With the in-breath, I smile. With the out-breath, I release.

Breathing in, there is only the present moment.

Breathing out, it is a wonderful moment.

Focusing on my breath, I am overwhelmed by words. Silent layers and layers of

words strung together to form sentences and thoughts criss-cross above and below
my breath. This paper… mindfurlness… contemplation… teaching…students…
writing… learning… hungry… tired… My lower back hurts… Is my foot
asleep?... How much time has passed?... I stare down at my interpersonal
communication class binder positioned in front of me, which reads:

M- moment to moment attention

I- in the here and now
N- non-judgmental attitude
D- detach from unhelpful thoughts
F- forgive and be grateful
U- unconditional acceptance
L- learn with beginner’s mind
-Zhen Phang

Trying to meditate, I realize just how difficult it is to focus my attention on a

single object – my breath. Words immediately overtake my awareness. Even
marking my breath with words, “breathing in, breathing out,” has no impact on my
intruding thoughts. Pay attention to your breath! Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Thought. What is thinking or thought if not words, relationally patterning our
understanding and perception. La la la la la la la la. Stop. Quiet. Breathe. No
escape.

Struggling to keep my focus on my breath, I shift my weight forward then

back. Rolling my shoulders and neck, I lengthen my spine and situate my gaze on
the colorful, patterned fabric near my feet. My eyes attempt soft focus, which
renders the cloth a dull blur of color and texture. I blink. Breathing in, I know I am
breathing in. Breathing out, I know I am breathing out. Blink. Blink. Blink. Shift.
Breathing in, I know I am breathing in. Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.
Blink. I close my eyes. Darkness. Muddy space. Breath. Thoughts race by like a
train. I stand outside and watch them pass.

  9 
 I want to be on the train. No, I want to be the train. Ding, ding. The bell calls
us away from our meditation to discuss our experience. How much time has
passed? Opening my eyes, I feel calm. I am making some progress but cannot help
but feel this is another failed attempt. Who knew paying attention was so difficult.
I become lost in self-evaluation only to arrive back in the moment to hear the
teacher quoting Kabat-Zinn (1994):

It doesn’t take long in meditation to discover that part of our mind is

constantly evaluating our experiences, comparing them with other
experiences or holding them up against expectations and standards that we
create, often out of fear. Fear that I’m not good enough, that bad things will
happen, that good things won’t last, that other people might hurt me, that I
won’t get my way, that only I know anything, that I’m the only one who
doesn’t know anything (p. 55).

Our teacher then asks us to partner with the person sitting next to us to share our
deepest fear as a way to practice deep, compassionate listening. Fearful of this
activity, I volunteer to go first. Ding, Ding. We switch. My partner talks about
teaching, also. The stress. Long work hours. Her inability to do all that she wants
to do. Not being able to balance work and life. Not having enough time to care for
everyone. Her students with special needs. Trying to help but feeling she is failing
to make a difference. Ding, Ding. We pause and stare at each other in gratitude. A
moment of recognition of our shared fears feels comforting. I was never alone.

Before Class…

What if learning is also an "act of love" (Darder, 2002) in a similar manner

to how Freire describes teaching? As an act of love, I want to be mindful of my
impact, desiring a more loving, conscious, and just world, which, for me, means,
"The inquirer [teacher] watches herself in the process, noticing the wake she makes
as the boat moves forward or anchors for a while until a storm passes or the sun
rises" (Bentz & Shapiro 1998, p. 57). Teaching, ultimately, is about being aware of
the wake you make in the lives of others. This wake can be quiet and calm,
encouraging stillness and reflection, but it can also be harsh and demanding,
inspiring apathy and disconnection. If I could shout this from the rooftop, I would
implore others that to be contemplative about our impact on others’ learning
requires an understanding of metacommunication (Bateson, 2000; Nachmanovich,
2009) but also mettacommunication (Blinne, 2014). At its core, metta, a Pali word
within the wisdom tradition of Buddhism, meaning loving kindness and also
denoting a type of friendliness, also encourages us to be gentle and to cultivate

  10 
nonviolence, and as Sharon Shalzberg (1995) suggests, metta is what binds us
together so much so that:

Looking at people and communicating that they can be loved, and that they
can love in return, is giving them a tremendous gift. It is also a gift to
ourselves. We see that we are one with the fabric of life. This is the power of
metta: to teach ourselves and our world this inherent loveliness (p. 28).

By practicing metta, I can better understand the four Buddhist practices of

relating, or brahma-viharas, of which this practice is a part. The first practice
involves extending our experience of friendliness, beginning with those with whom
we are already in a relationship and expanding this outward to other encounters
(metta). Next, we develop compassion (karuna), or the capacity to be vulnerable
and suffer with others, seeing our humanity as bound together. Ultimately, this step
asks us to see everyone as a reflection of some part of ourselves in order to learn to
see the good in ourselves as well as in others, which is the third practice of
sympathetic joy (mudita). Finally, and perhaps the most difficult of these practices,
is to develop a level of detachment towards those who have harmed us or have
caused us suffering via the practice of equanimity (upekkha). This practice also
asks us to look at how we create our own suffering so we can come to know all of
the suffering, doubt, anger, fear, or hate we have for another is also that which we
doubt and fear within ourselves.

Through these practices of mettacommunication as a communicative stance

in my teaching through compassionate engagement with other learners and the
world, I can begin to create a learning model that models personal and social
transformation via tolerance, love, benevolence, and nonviolence. I view a
mettacommunicative stance as not only better illuminating radical relatedness, or
interbeing, but also as helping us to embrace the vast part of ourselves that stems
from learning to fall in love with ourselves either again or for the first time. Only
from here can we open ourselves to love others.

In envisioning what mettacommunication looks and feels like, I hear

Shepherd (2006) reminding me that communication is the “simultaneous
experience of self and other,” or rather, “a particular occasion of experience, one
which happens when you experience, in all the fullness of life, yourself and
someone else" (p. 22-23). He further teaches me that we build our identities
together in our communicative interactions and are "always-becoming,"
simultaneously experiencing each other’s presence through "being-together," or

  11 
rather, our "becomingness" or "being-ness" (p. 24-25). Am I entering dangerous
territory here? What about the always-shifting and often unequal power resources
within relationships, especially in regard to race/ethnicity/nationality, class,
gender, age, sexual orientation, and physical ability?

Shepherd (2006) asks me to see this as an opportunity for possibility, the

idea being that we meet each other by recognizing who we are becoming in the
experience of our communication versus who we are via our intersecting identities.
His words resonate deeply with my understanding of mindfulness:

perhaps another way of getting at the special nature of this simultaneity is to

say that communication is the desirable (even if sometimes unhappy)
experience of attending not just to me, at the ignorance of you, nor just to
you, at the loss of me, but the sympathetic awareness of and attendance to
both you and me in simultaneous regard (p. 25).

I see much hope and potential in these ideas for living a more democratic,
interdependent life as it speaks to the pragmatic, utopian, and idealistic ways to
which I aspire within my own interactions. How we communicatively inter-are
cannot be taken-for-granted as it is at the core of everything related to teaching,
learning, loving, and being the change we want to see in the world.

Recognizing the simultaneity of our experience has the ability to foster

deeper connections as well as helping to better understand these connections
through sensemaking practices (Long, 2001; Eisenberg, 2001; Goodall, 1996).
Through mettacommunication, which I consider a spiritual practice, we can learn
to acknowledge and take responsibility for our interactions with others and other
realities. It is in this space, Shepherd (2001) tells me, that we become something
more than self or other in our simultaneity – in this place we create the possibility
of community (p. 33). Communication, as Goodall (1996) also reminds me, is “the
spiritual pathway capable of uniting diverse communities" (p. 21). I “quest for
communion” (Rodriguez, 2005) to transcend myself and strive for something more
together. I believe the personal is always relational and the relational is always
spiritual and the spiritual is always political and pedagogical.

By contesting the forces that seek to separate us from each other, we can
unite across diverse world views, practices, experiences, and ways of being in the
world (Rodriguez, 2005, 35). By seeking to practice mettacommunication, I
enlarge my understanding of what is possible. Not only does this practice offer an
emergent definition of communication, wherein I recognize my impact on the lives

  12 
of others, but I also enhance my willingness to embrace vulnerability. In this
vulnerability, I know that my humanity is bound to the humanity of others and that
being vulnerable means being open to mystery, complexity, and ambiguity, thereby
offering new ways of seeing and being in the world (Rodriguez, 2010).

By teaching learners to first understand metacommunication and then by

modeling mettacommunication through contemplative pedagogy, learners can
better “see” how they communicate on multiple levels, how they communicate
about communicating, and how their lives are connected to the interwoven tapestry
that creates the social fabric of their interactions. If metacommunication refers to a
type of communication which conveys something about the communicator (or
about the relationship between or among communicators) and/or the
communication itself, then mettacommunication adds present-moment attention to
cultivate compassionate awareness that recognizes our relatedness, helping us
better understand how individuals and communities can teach and learn to engage
more peacefully, nonviolently, and compassionately with each other, while
practicing a style of communication that helps at least one person suffer less each
day. In other words, we become more compassionate, peaceful, and nonviolent
communicators. To do so means that we must become aware of the suffering we
cause as well as the suffering we experience, also recognizing our positions of
privilege and the many ways we act as oppressors and experience oppression. This
vulnerability is, as Rodriguez (2010) so beautifully contends:

locating the cultivation of courage in our every day habits of being. Finding
the courage to be vulnerable is also about finding the courage to act, to learn,
to trust, to believe, to imagine, to live, to love. Through courage we
recognize our humanity in each other by being unafraid – regardless of our
differences – to engage each other…In allowing us to imagine, to create, to
love, courage allows us to exceed reciprocity and mutuality. We love in spite
of rather than because of…Thus, any model of education that cultivates no
courage only reduces us to the objects of subordination, manipulation, and
exploitation (p. 141).

Teaching about metta, or loving kindness via contemplative practices,

illuminates the importance of relationality, especially in situations of conflict, as
this concept asks us to wish for health, happiness, and nonviolence towards others.
To explore this further, learners can focus on positively visualizing a person, place,
or other being; reflect on the positive in a situation or person; repeat a loving,
reassuring, or affirming phrase or words; or act compassionately via selfless
service (Dass & Bush, 1992).

  13 
 While there are many ways one can integrate mettacommunication into the
classroom, I often employ the following loving kindness mantra for students to
critically and contemplatively reflect and explore ideas of interdependence and
relationality. Starting with oneself:

May I be peaceful and at ease

May I be happy and well

May I be safe and free from harm

Moving outward to friends, family, and then to strangers, locations, events, or

other areas one wants to send compassionate energy:

May all beings be peaceful and at ease

May all beings be happy and well

May all beings be safe and free from harm

To practice mettacommunication is to recognize how my words and actions impact

others.

Class Begins…

Good evening, everyone. I hope you are well. Before we begin, do you have
any questions, comments, concerns, songs, dances, shout-outs, or other comments
you would like to share?

I am greeted with silence.

Moving on… how are you doing today?

Hungry?

A choir of sighs and several varieties of “yes” emerge.

Angry?

  14 
 A few hands go up. I see a fist.
Lonely?

No responses.

Tired?

A collective wave erupts into a sea of chatter. I hear snippets of talk about
jobs, kids, roommates, tests, and other stresses. I pause, waiting for the class to
return their focus.

Today, our class is going to explore the role of mindfulness in interpersonal

relationships. Hearing a few groans, I proceed undaunted.

Throughout the semester we have questioned “How to live a life” and “How
we can have intimate citizenship in an unjust world” (Plummer, 2005, p. 6), as well
as "What maximizes the possibilities for a livable life, what minimizes the
possibility of unbearable life…?” (Butler, 2004, p. 8). In asking ourselves these
questions, I hope we can strive to be less violent and more compassionate
communicators, always questioning what happens when we begin to render other
beings as invisible, silent, or unworthy of living a happy, healthy, or safe life,
including non-human animals, plants, insects, and other beings. We are all
interconnected, but how do we become aware of this?

Pausing, I grab the canvas grocery bag on the table and begin to hand out
small, individual boxes of raisins, hearing students whisper:

Um. Raisins?

I love raisins!

Gross. This reminds me of kindergarten.

I remind them: Please try to be open to this activity. I have not even given
you the directions yet, I say, smiling. Please refrain from opening the boxes for a
moment, I state, as several students work to make their boxes look closed again.

In order to better understand mindful eating (Kabat-Zinn, 2005; Nhat Hanh

& Cheung, 2010), however, we must first consider what mindfulness is, right?
What do you think?

  15 
 A student in the front of the class blurts out, “Paying attention?”

Thank you, that’s a great start.

From the center of the room, “Being present?”

Absolutely. Both paying attention and being present are important

components of mindfulness. Often we forget to breathe deeply, take breaks, and
drink water. We skip meals. Let’s apply this to an everyday activity – say –
washing dishes (Nhat Hanh, 1999, p. 3). I invite you to close your eyes and
visualize the last time you washed a dish. Focus solely on the activity. Do not let
your thoughts wander. Become aware of the dish, paying attention to the act of
washing it. Focus on the moment- – the feel of the water, its pressure and
temperature, the shape and texture of the dish, the smell and feeling of the soap,
the experience of gripping a sponge and moving it around a plate or cup. Opening
your eyes, can you think of other activities that could benefit from this type of
attention? A few hands go up:

Driving!

Listening to someone talk.

Brushing your teeth.

Someone whispers, “Sex.”

Great examples. What if we add complexity to our understanding of

mindfulness by considering what it might mean to be contemplative or engage in
contemplative practices, too? Moving to the board, I write contemplation – the “act
of attending with nonjudgmental awareness or being open to things just as they
are” (Brady, 2007, p. 1). Another way of saying this is that contemplative practices
are exercises in meditative reflection (Repetti, 2010), focusing attention on an
element of conscious experience such as meditation, breathing, visualization,
relaxation, and so on.

Do any of you do yoga?

About ten students raise their hands.

  16 
 What about meditation? Mindful breathing?

A few hands stay raised.

All of these practices, including mindfulness, are types of contemplative

practice. When one focuses on breathing during meditation or moves from yoga
posture to posture, the goal is to bring mind and body together into a state of
heightened awareness (Sarath, 2003). You have likely already experienced a wide
range of meditative awareness in your life: if you have ever felt a wave of
electricity, energy, or tingling in your body; experienced a moment of complete
stillness or silence; merged so deeply with an activity or experience that your self
of sense disappeared for a moment; engaged fully without distraction with single-
pointed focus or awareness of the object, person, or activity; delighted in a state
between wakefulness and sleep; or experienced that which involved a sense of
connection to something greater than yourself. In other words, both mindfulness
and contemplation employ focused awareness; however, contemplation is
generally preferred as a broader term that includes practices ranging from the
creative arts to peacemaking circles. Walking around the class, I hand out a
worksheet with the following explanation from The Association for Contemplative
Mind in Higher Education:

Contemplative practices are methods incorporated into your daily life as a

reminder to slow down, focus, and feel more connected to your self, your
work, and your environment. Contemplative practices allow us to develop a
capacity for deep concentration, usually in silence, to quiet the mind in the
midst of the action and distraction that fills everyday life. This state of calm
centeredness provides effective stress reduction and can also help address
issues of meaning, values, and spirit. Contemplative practices can help
people develop greater empathy and communication skills, improve focus
and concentration, reduce stress and enhance creativity. In time, with
sustained commitment, they cultivate insight, wise discernment, and a loving
and compassionate approach to life.

As you can see, all of these definitions have similarities. Equally important
is the idea of non-judgment. In this class, we have talked a lot about why we
construct categories, create labels, and focus on difference. There is no doubt we
live in a world of evaluation. Separation. Critique. Measurement. Inclusion and
Exclusion. We are taught to separate, label, and deconstruct. For instance, imagine
a class where a teacher does not judge or evaluate student performance (Repetti,
2010). I am sure many of you have gotten an “A” in a class in which you learned

  17 
nothing, right? Moreover, some of you may have received a lower grade in a class
in which you learned a great deal. I believe it is extremely important for us to show
care and concern for each other as, “Self-criticism, hypercompetitiveness, and
alienation are patterns firmly in place. It is the elephant in the room in many
classes” (Haight, 2010, p. 36). Throughout this class, I hope we can all continue to
be more compassionate in our everyday lives. Before we move into the exercise,
let’s practice being in the moment.

Please close your eyes, visualizing your day thus far as a moving picture.
Start by rewinding to when you first awoke and then fast-forward through your
day, briefly stopping to observe your interactions, movements, conversations, and
sensory perceptions until you arrive in the current moment, sitting in the
classroom. When you have “arrived in class,” explore, “Where are you now?”
(Hart, 2004), relaxing for a few minutes, taking some deep breaths, and then tuning
into your experience in the current moment. When finished, take a moment to
discuss your experience with a partner.

10 minutes pass. Are you ready to give mindful eating a try?

Pick out one raisin and hold it in the palm of your hand. Take the time
toreally observe and be with the raisin, looking at it and examining its shape, color,
texture, size, and other visible features. Take a moment to notice your breathing as
you bear witness to the raisin.

Do not change your breathing, but become aware of it as you become

present with the raisin. Giving your full presence to the raisin, you are here and the
raisin is here, existing together in this moment. If you are not present with the
raisin, it is not here with you.

Take a moment to consider the following: By observing the raisin, you can
see that the raisin is nothing more than a grape that has been harvested and then
dried.

Imagine the time and energy required to make this possible and to get this
raisin to you. In all of its vibrance, the raisin contains the earth, rain, and sunshine,
starting as a seed, which becomes a vine, and then a grape.

A farmer invested energy to water and care for this raisin, watching it grow,
and then harvesting and later drying it so it could be processed and packaged for
your consumption.

  18 
 The packaged raisin, placed on a truck and transported many miles to a
warehouse, arrives at a grocery store and is placed on a shelf by an employee. I
then purchased this raisin for you, drove it to school, carried it to our classroom in
my bag, and passed out the boxes to you. Now, with this raisin in your hand, you
can see what a journey this raisin has undertaken. You might even consider smiling
at the raisin in understanding.

Closing your eyes, I invite you to further observe the raisin by first smelling
it. How would you describe its aroma? Is it earthy? Sweet? Does it smell like the
package in which it was stored? Still smelling the raisin, feel its texture, squeezing
it gently. Can you sense its juiciness? Feel the skin that protects its interior?

I now invite you to slowly place the raisin in your mouth without biting it.
Imagine that you have never had another raisin in your mouth until this moment.
Consider how it feels on your tongue, remembering its shape, texture, size, and
smell. What do you taste? The package? Grapes? Something else? Bite the raisin
ever so gently to release its flavor.

Chewing gently, become aware that you are chewing. Only focus on
chewing. Do not shift your awareness to what others are doing. Do not worry about
how you might be perceived doing this activity. Leave your worries, fears, or
wandering thoughts out of this moment. Be present with the raisin. Listen to its
story. Once you finish chewing the raisin, swallow it with gratitude, opening your
eyes when finished.

I invite you to take a moment to reflect on this activity before sharing your
experience with a partner, I instruct. My goal in asking you to mindfully eat a
raisin is to show the difficulties of maintaining single-focused attention and also to
highlight the interconnection among beings - in this case, the food that sustains us
and the many people involved in making these processes possible. How was your
experience with the raisin? Going around the room, some responses include:

I don’t like raisins, but I didn’t mind the taste in this exercise.

I never realized how easy it is for my mind to wander. I had a lot of trouble
staying focused on the raisin.

I felt silly doing this exercise. Why is it important to care about a raisin?

  19 
 Paying attention to the raisin is just an example. Imagine giving this same
focus and presence to a person in your life, especially someone you love and care
about. Then, imagine extending this presence and awareness to other activities in
your life. For instance, “When we contemplate something, the boundary between
ourselves and whatever we are contemplating disappears” (Miller, 2006, p. 76). It
is in between these two spaces that we can come to recognize our interdependence.
Through mindfulness and contemplation, we bring awareness to that which
separates us but also to the actions in which we are engaging in the moment. Not
only can we focus on the moment – we are here together in this classroom
discussing and practicing mindfulness – but we can also contemplate our
connections to this raisin’s past but also its future. For example, how do we relate
to this raisin as a living being? What about all of the people who helped to make
this raisin possible? How does the raisin become part of you – your body - your
life?

In order to first ask these questions, we must stop multitasking and center
our focus on one object of our attention at a time - the raisin. Next, we can begin to
apply this same attention and awareness to other objects of our focus: daily
activities, interactions with others, what we consume and purchase, and so on. By
more compassionately attending to the moment as well as the journey, we can
become more aware of the choices we make and why, allowing us to be less
reactive and more reflexive. Remember: these practices require lots of practice but
ultimately it is about cultivating presence. Giving compassionate presence to
another being is a present or gift. Our discussion winds down as we close our class
with the Kabat-Zinn youtube video, Life is Right Now. I invite you, the reader, to
watch this video before proceeding.

Now Home…

Opening my notebook, I start a new map. In the center of the page, I write
Why mindfulness? I lean on John Miller (1994) to help me understand why
contemplation can and should play a role in education. He answers my query by
reminding me that contemplation is a type of self-learning wherein learners can
come to believe in and trust their own intuition. He also reassures me that the most
important reason contemplation should be integrated into higher education
curriculums is that it teaches an individual to “gradually overcome his or her sense
of separateness” (Miller, 1994, p. 57). Hence, what begins as a contemplative
classroom practice of ten minutes each class might grow into a daily practice,
encouraging me to cultivate my own practice, but reminding me never to require
students to participate in mindfulness exercises if they are not interested in doing

  20 
so.

Sarath (2003) enters the conversation so I can consider mindfulness

practices as a way to extend and question what constitutes education, without
embracing any explicitly spiritual goals, as a tool to relieve stress and aid clarity
and focus while still presenting a “trans-traditional spiritual framework that
addresses concerns shared by multiple traditions. This does not preclude tradition-
specific spiritual ties but provides an expanded framework through which the
various spiritual traditions can be more deeply appreciated and understood” (p.
229). Thus, by learning to broaden one’s world view, a learner can come to
appreciate many different ways of being in the world, thereby hopefully leading to
a more compassionate orientation to life.

Zajonc (2006,) asks me to reflect on my own teaching by questioning,

“What should be at the center of one’s teaching and students’ learning?” (p. 2). He
believes it is love, asserting, “The curricula offered by our institutions of higher
education have largely neglected this central, if profoundly difficult task of
learning to love, which is also the task of learning to live in true peace and
harmony with others and with nature” (p. 2). I agree. To teach is to love, but is it
the same to say to love is to teach? To love more fully, I need to turn away from
isolation to find a space of empathetic connection, including: respect, gentleness,
intimacy, participation, vulnerability, transformation, education as formation, and
insight (Zajonc, 2006, p. 3-4). Classes practicing mindfulness together have the
potential to create safe spaces for inspiring exploration, reflexivity, and
community-building. Within this space, mindfulness can improve:

the ability to maintain preparedness, orient attention, process information

quickly and accurately, handle stress, regulate emotional reactions, and
cultivate positive psychological states; that one-pointedness practice
improves academic achievement; and that meditation enhances creativity,
social skills, and empathetic responses (Repetti, 2010, p. 12).

While there is no single theory or practice that exemplifies or defines

contemplative pedagogy, I continue to see contemplative pedagogies as
“philosophies of education that promote the use of contemplative practices as valid
modes of teaching and learning but also of knowledge construction and inquiry”
(Repetti, 2010, p. 9), the primary emphasis being the cultivation of “attentiveness”
and “awareness” (Komjathy in Coburn et al. 2011, p. 170) through practices such
as visualization, meditation, deep listening, mindfulness practices, yoga, art,
writing, self-inquiry, relaxation, nature observation, among many others (Grace,

  21 
2011, p. 99). Even so, there is no one-size-fits-all contemplative practice or
pedagogy model. The success for some students and teachers does not suggest
these teaching tools will benefit all learners nor all classes.

Employing mindfulness practices in the classroom is a way to bring

“students back to what they are doing right now” (Haight, 2010, p. 31). Zajonc
(2006) inspires me to ask what would teaching and learning look like if both
students and faculty embraced and encouraged secular contemplative practices,
training attention and awareness, as well as cultivating compassion, as essential
components of any educational agenda? If contemplative practices, studies, or
pedagogy encourage personal responsibility and accountability and enhance
critical thinking through self-awareness and self-inquiry, while increasing
creativity and freedom of expression optimally leading to greater academic success
as Grace (2011) has taught me, then I feel quite confident claiming that
contemplative pedagogy teaches a different type of engagement with oneself, one’s
students, teachers, colleagues, and the world at large.

Because contemplative pedagogy is not part of a one-way-fits-all-learners’

process, teachers will always encounter a tension, even with the greatest and most
compassionate intentions, wherein some learners benefit from these practices
tremendously, others are disengaged and disinterested, and some are down right
hostile to these concepts. The greatest promise of contemplative pedagogy, in my
experience, is the opportunity for learners to experience another educational path
which challenges the status quo. This learning journey might not be the path they
will continue to walk; however, knowing that they can participate in the classroom
in a more democratic manner offers spaces of possibility that are so often closed in
educational settings.

In the end, the idea is not that students take risks that the teacher does not;
instead, the concept embodies Che Gevera's (see Boal, 1995, p. 3) words that,
"solidarity means running the same risks," further requiring us to realize the ‘basic
goodness’ in ourselves and others as:

Basic goodness always exists in life, but we don’t always realize it. A
contemplative approach attempts to see beyond the confusion of the present
moment to recognize this basic goodness. Contemplative teaching consists
of creating an environment which basic goodness develops and is provoked
(not forced, but encouraged) (Ebbons in McWilliams, 2006, p. 6).

To see this “basic goodness,” I must challenge myself to do my best to bear

  22 
witness to my own preconceived ideas, judgments, mental clutter, and self-critical
evaluations, hoping to share authority and arrive at a mutual purpose with the
classes I teach so we can build a safe and respectful community.

Any activity can become contemplative if you create an intention to focus

your awareness on the object of study (sound, text, image, claim, person, moment,
and so on) (Kroll, 2010). Moreover, creating “down time” for students to explore,
play, and experiment in an “unstructured, unplanned, and open” way can
additionally help facilitate a contemplative environment. Finally, going into more
depth with fewer concepts or ideas, as well as learning to embrace less certainty,
will allow students to focus more attentively and cultivate greater awareness. In
concert with Kroll (2010), I first started incorporating periods of classroom silence
(five or ten minutes) into my classes. Then, I began experimenting with basic
mindfulness exercises that help students understand nonjudgmental awareness as
well as concentrative focus activities that place attention on one object of study at a
time (for example: breath, body, or sound). Over time, I have also integrated
mindful breathing or loving kindness meditation (sending peace and well-being to
one’s self and others), reciting mantras, engaging in movement, employing
visualization, and contemplating poetry, texts, or short passages.

Freewriting is one of the easiest methods for encouraging contemplation

within the classroom. In freewriting activities, students learn to write without
stopping to critique, edit, or focus on the quality of composition as the writings are
not graded assignments but reflexive exercises (Elbow, 1998). This can also be
accomplished through journaling, “aha” papers, or art projects. Beyond writing
exercises, Kroll (2010) has raised my awareness that reading can also be a
contemplative practice if you focus on short passages to “allow meaning to
accumulate” as well as spending a day considering a passage to view it from
multiple perspectives (p. 112).

Another step in integrating contemplative practices into my teaching has

involved both practicing and teaching about P.E.A.C.E (Saltzman n.d.). Amy
Saltzman’s (n.d., p. 8) words show me that by bringing awareness back to the body
and breath in difficult and stressful situations, I am bringing an understanding to
the idea that the more I practice peace, the more peace I have. We could all do with
a little more peace in the world, right? P- is for pausing when difficulties arise. E-
exhale, sigh, or groan and then inhale to keep breathing. A- reminds us to
acknowledge, accept, allow the situation as it is, whether you are happy about it or
not, accept your reaction to the situation, and allow your experience to occur. C- is
for choosing how you will respond, being clear about what you want and your

  23 
limits, finding courage to take action or not, extending compassion, and searching
for the comedic aspect of the occurrence. Finally, E- is for engaging with others,
the situation, and life.

I ask myself each day: How can I make a difference? How can I be more
compassionate? How can I engage in listening more deeply? What does the world
need from me…right now? In asking myself these questions, I set my intention for
how I move through my day. I may fail to reach these ideals, but I continue to ask
questions, hoping that the more I practice tolerance, compassion, and mindfulness,
the more able I will be to engage compassionately and to understand how to model
mettacommunication in all of my learning, writing, teaching, and researching
endeavors, making the lines between my personal and professional life squiggly, as
Alan Watts would say. Embracing a pedagogy of hope, which enacts politics of
resistance and imagines a utopian future (Denzin 2010, p. 111), I need
contemplative practice and pedagogy, which is the step we can take together as a
community of learners and teachers to inspire “hope” in the lives of the learners we
encounter. By being aware of the impact we make in their lives, we can change the
world. I hope you agree.

Ideally, I want to believe that in all of my encounters, I can reach some sort
of loving, transformative moment of being-together, but with all of the cruelty,
misunderstanding, miscommunication, hate, and violence in the world, I
understand that teaching as a practice of compassionate engagement is an ideal that
can only be partially realized, shared, and/or actualized, still worth striving to
attain each time I enter a classroom. While I may never fully realize the
mettacommunicative utopia I seek, recognizing that relationships are always
complex and that, at best, the most I can hope for in any educational setting is
“productive asymmetry” (Bartesaghi, Personal Communication, 2011), I can still
actively and mindfully attempt to practice teaching as compassionate engagement,
working towards creating a more loving, tolerant, and playful world, still
embracing spirituality, being creatively maladjusted, and supporting activist efforts
that share my utopian visions. This essay has been an “act of love,” a call for
contemplative pedagogy, a teaching manifesto, a performance text, a method of
inquiry, and a vision of the future, while still trying to embrace and embody the
present moment. It is an opportunity to lean on and be with you, for right now is all
we have and what we do with this moment makes all the difference.

Six Weeks Later…

  24 
 In a circle on round, colorful cushions on the floor, we sit in collective
silence for one last time as a group. Six weeks of gathering together to sit, walk,
and discuss mindfulness is finally coming to a close. As we go around the circle,
we recount our time together on and off the mat. I hear others’ stories of triumph
and failure. Practice and process. Learning. Teaching. Dreams and visions of
change. Entering the Awakening to Life course, I had hoped to incorporate
contemplative practices into my everyday life. Leaving, I feel a deep sense of
comfort and calm. Now - not only am I awakening to life, but I am also
reawakening to lifelong learning. Where will this wave carry me next?

Kneeling, I touch the earth. Connecting to the grass, its roots, the dirt, I
touch the earth to remember our connection. We inter-are. Touching the earth, I
seek to embrace childlike wonder. Touching the earth, I am a tree connecting to
what is below and what is above. Touching the earth, I find strength and stability
as I breathe out my fear, anger, anxiety, and my suffering so that I can connect
with myself, others, and the world. Once home, I approach the white space of this
page. Typing these last words…

Breathing in, I conclude this paper.

Breathing out, I am thankful for your presence.

Breathing in, I feel gratitude for this opportunity.

Breathing out, I feel peaceful and at ease.

Breathing in, I feel happy and well.

Breathing out, may you feel peaceful and at ease.

Breathing in, may you feel happy and well.

Breathing out, I know that together we can make a difference.

Breathing in, it is a wonderful moment.

References

Armstrong, K. (2010). Twelve steps to a compassionate life. New York: Anchor

  25 
 Books.
Asher, N. (2003). Engaging difference: Towards a pedagogy of interbeing.
Teaching Education, 14(3), 235-247.
Bateson, G. (2000). Steps to an ecology of the mind: Collected essays in
anthropology, psychiatry, evolution, and epistemology. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press.
Barbezat, D. P., & Bush, M. (2014). Contemplative practices in higher education:
Powerful methods to transform teaching and learning. San Francisco:
Jossey-Bass.
Bentz, V., & Shapiro, J. (1998). Mindful inquiry in social research. London: Sage.
Berg, M., & Seeber, B. K. (2013). The slow professor: Challenging the culture of
speed in the academy. Transformative Dialogues: Teaching & Learning
Journal, 6(3), 1-7.
Blinne, K. (2014). Practicing mettacommunication. A guide to contemplative
communication. Unpublished manuscript.
Boal, A. (1995). The rainbow of desire: The Boal method of theatre and therapy.
London: Routledge.
Bochner, A. (2009). Communication's calling: The importance of what we care
about. Spectra, 45, 14-19.
Brady, R. (2007). Learning to stop, stopping to learn: Discovering the
contemplative dimension in education. Journal of Transformative
Education, 5(4), 372-394.
Brown, B. (2012). Daring greatly: How the courage to be vulnerable transforms
the way we live, love, parent, and lead. New York: Gotham Books.
Bush, M., ed. (2011). Contemplation nation: How ancient practices are changing
the way we live. Kalamazoo, MI: Fetzer Institute.
Butler, J. (2004). Undoing gender. New York: Routledge.
Campbell, C., & Kryszewska, H. (1992). Learner-based teaching. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Center for Contemplative Mind in Society. (n.d.). Center for contemplative mind in
society. Retrieved from http://www.contemplativemind.org/
Chase, S. (2007). Creative maladjustment: Activism as a way to heal self, society,
and planet. Gatherings: Journal of the International Community for
Ecopsychology. Retrieved from
http://www.ecopsychology.org/journal/ezine/archive4/Creative-
Maladjustment.pdf
Coburn, T., Grace, F., Klein, A., Komjathy, L., Roth, H., & Simmer-Brown, J.
(2010). Contemplative pedagogy: Frequently asked questions. Teaching
Theology and Religion, 14(3), 167-174.
Coylar, J. (2009). Becoming writing, becoming writers. Qualitative Inquiry, 15(2),

  26 
 421-436.
Danielewicz, J., & Elbow, P. (2009). A unilateral grading contract to improve
learning and teaching. CCC, 61(2), 244-267.
Darder, A. (2002). Reinventing Paulo Freire: A pedagogy of love. Boulder, CO:
Westview Press.
Dass, R., & Bush, M. (1992). Compassion in action: Setting out on the path of
service. New York: Bell Tower.
Denzin, N. (2010). The qualitative manifesto. A call to arms. Walnut Creek, CA:
Left Coast Press.
Denzin, N. (2009). Critical pedagogy and democratic life or a radical democratic
pedagogy. Cultural Studies ! Critical Methodologies, 9(3), 379-397.
Dutton, J., Worline, M., Frost, P., & Lilius, J. (2006). Explaining compassion
organizing. Administrative Science Quarterly, 51, 59-96.
Elbow, P. (1998). Writing without teachers. New York: Oxford University Press.
Eisenberg, E. (2001). Building a mystery: Toward a new theory of communication
and identity. Journal of Communication, 51(3), 534-551.
Fassett, D., & Warren. J. (2007). Critical communication pedagogy. Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage.
Fernandes, L. (2003). Transforming feminist practice: Non-violence, social justice,
and the possibilities of a spiritualized feminism. San Francisco: Aunt Lute
Books.
Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage.
Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc.
Frost, P. (1999). Why compassion counts! Journal of Management Inquiry, 8(2),
127-133.
Garrison Institute. 2005. Contemplation and education: A survey of programs
using contemplative techniques in k-12 educational settings. Retrieved
from http://www.garrisoninstitute.org
Gibran, K. (1973). The prophet. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Glassman, B. (n.d.). Three tenets for Zen peacemakers. Zen Peacemakers.
Retrieved from http://zenpeacemakers.org/zen-peacemakers/three-tenets/
Grace, F. (2011). Learning as a path, not a goal: Contemplative pedagogy - its
principles and practices. Teaching Theology and Religion, 14(2), 99-124.
Goodall, H. (1993). Mysteries of the future told: Communication as the material
manifestation of spirituality. World Communication, 22(2), 40-49.
Goodall, H. (1996). Divine signs: Connecting spirit to community. Carbondale:
Southern Illinois University Press.
Haight, R. (2010). The classroom is a sangha: Contemplative education in the
community college. New Directions for Community Colleges, 2010(151),
29-38.

  27 
Hanson Lasater, J., & Lasater. I. (2009). What we say matters: Practicing
nonviolent communication. Berkeley, CA: Rodmell Press.
Hart, T. (2004). Opening the contemplative mind in the classroom. Journal of
Transformative Education, 2(1), 28-46.
Hartnett, S. (2010). Communication, social justice, and joyful commitment.
Western Journal of Communication, 74(1), 68-93.
Hicks Peterson, T. (2009). Engaged scholarship: Reflections and research on the
pedagogy of social change. Teaching in Higher Education, 14(5), 541-52.
Kabat-Zinn, J. (1994). Wherever you go, there you are: Mindfulness meditation in
everyday life. New York: Hyperion.
Kabat-Zinn, J. (2005). Full catastrophe living: Using the wisdom of your body and
mind to face stress, pain, and illness. New York, NY: Delta Trade
Paperbacks.
Kabat-Zinn, J. [Ewa Jacobsson]. (2010, May 4). Life is right now - Jon Kabat-Zinn
on mindfulness. [Video file]. Retrieved from
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EU7vKitN4Ro
Kroll, K. (2010). Contemplative practice in the classroom. New Directions for
Community Colleges, 2010(151), 111-113.
Langer, E. (1989). Mindfulness. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.
Long, K. (2001). Sparring with spirituality: Issues of entangling spirituality and
communication. In A. Rodriguez (Ed.), Essays on communication &
spirituality: Contributions to a new discourse on communication (pp. 37-
46). Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
McWilliams, S. (1996). A contemplative model for higher education. Spencer A.
McWilliams home page. Retrieved from
http://public.csusm.edu/mcwilliams/My%20Publications/
Contemplative%20Higher%20Ed.pdf
Miller, J. (1994). Contemplative practice in higher education: An experiment in
teacher development. Journal of Humanistic Psychology, 34(4), 53-69.
Miller, J. (2006). Educating for wisdom and compassion: Creating conditions for
timeless learning. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press.
Miller, J., & Nozawa, A. (2002). Meditating teachers: A qualitative study. Journal
of In-Service Education, 28(1), 179-92.
Moreno-Lopez, I. (2005). Sharing power with students: The critical language
classroom. Radical Pedagogy, 7(2). Retrieved from
http://radicalpedagogy.icaap.org/ content/issue7_2/moreno.html
Nachmanovitch, S. (2009). This is play. New Literary History, 40(1), 1-24.
Nhat Hanh, T. (1999). The miracle of mindfulness: An introduction to the practice
of meditation. Boston: Beacon Press.
Nhat Hanh, T. (2006). Present moment, wonderful moment: Mindfulness verses for

  28 
 daily living. Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press.
Nhat Hanh, T. [brotherfulfillment]. (2009, November 16). Peace is the way. [Video
file]. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzuxdem1xbw.
Nhat Hanh, T., & Cheung, L. (2010). Savor: Mindful eating, mindful life. New
York: Harper One.
Nhat Hanh, T. (1993). Interbeing: Fourteen guidelines for engaged Buddhism.
Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press.
Norton, M. (2007). The everyday activist: Everything you need to know to get off
your backside and start to make a difference. London: Boxtree.
O'Reilley, M. (1998). Radical presence: Teaching as contemplative practice.
Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook.
Palmer, P. (1993). To know as we are known: Education as a spiritual journey.
San Francisco: Harper.
Parachin, J. (2000). Educating for an engaged spirituality: Dorothy Day and Thich
Nhat Hanh as spiritual exemplars. Religious Education, 95(3), 250-68.
Pelias, R. (2011). Leaning: A poetics of personal relations. Walnut Creek, CA:
Left Coast Press.
Plummer, K. (2005). Intimate citizenship in an unjust world. In M. Romero and E.
Margolis (Eds.), Blackwell handbook of social inequalities (pp. 75-99).
Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing.
Repetti, R. (2010). The case for a contemplative philosophy of education. New
Directions for Community Colleges, 2010(151), 5-15.
Richardson, L. (2000). Writing: A method of inquiry. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln
(Eds.), Collecting and interpreting qualitative materials (pp. 499-541).
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Rodriguez, A. (2001). Essays on communication & spirituality: Contributions to a
new discourse on communication. Lanham, MD: University Press of
America.
Rodriguez, A. (2005). Communication, space, & design: The integral relation
between communication and design. Lanham, MD: Hamilton Books.
Rodriguez, A. (2010). Revisioning diversity in communication studies. Leicester,
UK: Troubador Publishing Ltd.
Rosenberg, M. (2003). Nonviolent communication: A language of life. Encinitas,
CA: Puddle Dancer Press.
Salzberg, S. (1995). Lovingkindness: The revolutionary art of happiness. Boston:
Shambhala.
Saltzman, A. (n.d.). Mindfulness: A guide for teachers. The Center for
Contemplative Mind in Society. Retrieved from
http://www.contemplativemind.org/Mindfulness-A_Teachers_Guide.pdf
Sarath, E. (2003). Meditation in higher education: The next wave? Innovative

  29 
 Higher Education, 27(4), 215-33.
Shepherd, G. (2001). Community as the interpersonal accomplishment of
communication. In G. Shepherd & E. Rothenbuhler (Eds.), Communication
and Community (pp. 25-35). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Shepherd, G. (2006). Communication as transcendence. In G. Shepherd, J. St.
John, & T. Striphas (Eds.), Communication as ...: Perspectives on theory
(pp. 22-30). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Shor, I. (1997). When students have power: Negotiating authority in a critical
pedagogy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Shotter, J. (2011). Getting it: Withness-thinking and the dialogical…in practice.
New York: Hampton Press.
Simmer-Brown, J., & Grace, F. (2011). Meditation and the classroom:
Contemplative pedagogy for religious studies. Albany: SUNY Press.
The Mindfulness in Education Network. (n.d.). The mindfulness in education
network. Retrieved from http://www.mindfuled.org/
Warren, J. (2011). Reflexive teaching: Toward critical autoethnographic practices
of/in/on pedagogy. Cultural Studies Critical Methodologies, 11(2), 139-44.
Zajonc, A. (2006). Love and knowledge: Recovering the heart of learning through
contemplation. Teachers College Record, 108(9), 1742-59.

© Radical Pedagogy

  30