Minervan Musings

That old note of the lute, this breeze brings..

2006-07-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

Am here, dear all.
Just that stealing precious moments aside from the whirlwind of work is something yours truly still needs practice at, I'm afraid. Hope all of you've been fine.
Meanwhile, just jotting down here how, reading (or relishing, I should say) Ms Rhea Chatterjee's lovely entry for the Commonwealth Essay Competition this year, awakened the old fire-blossoms of endearment of old..

Just when I was musing of a rather outlandish dream of mine (let me not announce it until perhaps, the day if/when it's closer to practicality, for alas that's how the world works, na?)
to do with (hints here) dearest mentor Takurdaji & Bengali, the lovely language of Indian literary/intellectual thought, and how things have somewhat pulled away from these fantasies, I glance across an endearing essay written by a young (and beautifully proficient, might I add - Kudos to the dear gal) mind.

Tapur tupur..

Need I describe the re-awakened, a-trembling excitement at encountering yours truly's old pet topics of interest ~ of identity, language, and the human expression of these.

As in the dear gal's beautifully expressed account of how the languages she knows namely, English (as the gatekeeper of the pragmatic world today) and Bengali (as the language close to her heart) have helped forge her identity ~ A truly heartening experience to know of such mature musings from a teenager's worldview.

And to top it all off, dear Takurdaji's lines, aah. Nectarine.
Take care all of you,
minerva*

The day is no more

The day is no more, the shadow is upon the earth.

It is time that I go to the stream to fill my pitcher.
The evening air is eager with the sad music of the water.

Ah, it calls me out into the dusk.

In the lonely lane there is no passer-by, the wind is up,

the ripples are rampant in the river.
I know not if I shall come back home.

I know not whom I shall chance to meet.

There at the fording in the little boat, the unknown man plays upon his lute.

You Never Know

2006-03-17T23:00:00.000-08:00

Heya all,
Chanced across this museworthy poem - enjoy the read!

You Never Know

You never know when someone

might catch a dream from you.

You never know when a little word

or something that you might do,

May open up a window

of a mind that seeks the light.

The way you teach may not matter at all,

but you never know, it might.

And just in case it could be

that another's life through you

might change for the better

with a broader, brighter view.

It seems it might be worth a try

to do what you know is right.

The way you teach may not matter at all,

but you never know, it might.

* * *

Take care all & Wishes,
Minerva*

In us or nowhere

2006-02-18T05:45:00.000-08:00

Hi all. Just a short entry here, to keep this place alive ~ it still is, and will be ~ it's just that I haven't quite found the time for more readings & reflections on education, knowledge & such.

Well, here's something i'd really enjoyed reading for a paper, for one of my fave modules here, so far, on the philosophy of education:

Was rather (pleasantly) amused from the references to the German notion of Bildung ~ a beautiful word methinks, for education, that encompasses both learning and personal growth.

First learnt of the word via my lit. tutorials - of Bildungsroman (or novel of education), specifically, but just in case you wanna learn more, do check out "Bildungsroman," from The Literary Encyclopedia.

So there, some quotes to muse upon. Enjoy!
And, take care all, Minerva*

* * *

Quoted from Beiser, F.C. (1998) “A Romantic Education: The Concept of Bildung in Early German Romanticism”. In Rorty, A.O. (ed.) Philosophers on Education: Historical Perspectives. London: Routledge, pp. 284-299.

On Education and Freedom

"All education (Bildung) leads to nothing else than what one can call freedom, although this should not designate a mere concept but the creative ground of all existence."

~ Novalis, as cited in Beiser: 293.

On the Awakening of the Senses

"[The romantics'] aim was to educate the senses, their power to perceive the beauty of the world. This faculty could be made more more sensitive, refined and acute, they believed, so that a person's life could be greatly enriched and ennobled." (Beiser: 294)

"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." ~ Socrates.

"To romanticise the world... is to make us aware of the magic, mystery, and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.

The romantics want us to break outside the confines of our ordinary and mundane perceptions of the world, where we automatically categorize everything according to common concepts, and where we see things only as objects of use.

Their goal is to develop our power of contemplation, so that

we can see things anew, as they are in themselves and for their own sakes, apart from their utility and common meaning."

We dream of a journey through the universe. But is the universe then not in us? We do not know the depths of our spirit. Inward goes the secret path. Eternity with its worlds, the past and future, is in us or nowhere.

~ Novalis again, as cited in Beiser: 294.

2005-09-29T23:09:00.000-07:00

"Never doubt that a small, group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world.

Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

~ Margaret Mead

2005-09-13T01:12:00.000-07:00

Wishes all, Minerva*

of smothered song and clipped wings

2005-09-13T01:03:00.000-07:00

"He saw it. He was extremely pleased. The method was so much greater than the bird itself

that the bird was barely noticeable...

There was no gram, no water in the cage, but page after page was being torn from stacks of piled-up books and with the pointed end of a pen they were shoved down the bird's throat.

Its song was smothered, and there was not even the tiniest gap through which the bird's cry,

if there was any, could be audible..."

~ Rabindranath Tagore, "The Story of the Parrot."

***

Chanced across Takurdaji's thought-provoking satire
of orthodoxical brands of education systems: "The Story of the Parrot," from the dear Poet's This World is Beautiful: A Collection for Young People (1988).

Couldn't find an online copy of the version i'd read (pubd. Tagore Centre, U.K.) but here's a rough translation: The Parrot's Tale.

Wishes all, Minerva*

2005-09-12T03:31:00.000-07:00

*To a great Mentor, Friend & Fellow itinerant soul, A Tribute:

"Go to meet life where it is supreme. Come out of the school room. Do not bring trees into the classroom. Take the classes out under the trees. Undoubtedly, it is easy to have a tree trunk in the school room, it can be cut into planks; but these planks are dead, it is not in the classroom that the tree will bear flowers and fruit.

Do not be preoccupied with method. Leave your instincts to guide you to life. Children differ from one another. One must learn to know them, to navigate among them as one navigates among reefs. To explore the geography of their minds, a mysterious instinct, sympathetic to life, is the best of all guides."

~ Takurdaji, "A Poet's School."

***

*Oh where were you, all 'tis while, dear Takurdaji..
this journey, this thorn-driven path off the beaten track my weary soles have brought me thus far
only to meet your world,

in your warm, emeraldine flower-groves
Sunblest, perfumed and touched with life by the koel sitting by on the golden bough just here.

Wishes all, Minerva*

2005-09-12T02:55:00.000-07:00

If No One Calls

If no one answers to your call

go your own way alone.

If all are mute, oh! hapless one,

if all are filled with fear,

then open your heart in a fearless burst

and speak the truth alone.

If all go back, oh! hapless one,

when you are on your way

along the deep dark forest track,

if no one turns his face;

then walk the thorny path

with proudly bleeding feet,

with face set bravely forward

the bloodstained dust behind.

If no one lights the beacon

on a dark and stormy night;

if no one hears your knocking

and all men shut their doors;

then lose not heart oh! hapless one

but in the fiery thunder

set the torch of thy heart aflame

and burn in the dark alone.

~ Rabindranath Tagore. "If No One Calls," 1905.

first blossom

2005-09-12T01:25:00.000-07:00

a young blossom from a new dawn: first post.

***

to dearest blog-friends old and new: as you'd have noticed, am just experimenting with the possibility of this

annex-to-my-shrine here (meant for my musings on education & such)

might conflate it with my main place as U've known it sometime, perhaps (since dividing one's world of musings is only a relative notion - isn't it all part of the same individual consciousness, thence only yet another sharing of insights friends will find familiar?)

*Apologies for the yet-unfurnished setting, but jus' to try out a new backdrop w/o disturbing the old gold-sheathed memories..

And of course, Welcome dear one & all.

Yours in Friendship, Minerva*