In the preface to his Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Shunryū Suzuki writes, “The beginner’s mind is the mind of compassion. When our mind is compassionate, it is boundless.” Like so much of the Zen literature, Suzuki’s remarks are simultaneously mysterious, inviting, elusive, frustrating, and (if I may boldly suggest) profound. The notion of beginner’s mind (shoshin) has much to offer to all participants in the endeavors of teaching and learning, and I find it to be a particularly useful vehicle for thought at the beginning of the academic year.
To allow oneself to be a beginner takes tremendous courage. We appeal to this courage in our students when we invite them to allow unfamiliar ideas to challenge their prior beliefs and biases, and when we invite them to reflect on what they already know from fresh perspectives. We appeal to the same courage in ourselves when we review our own syllabi, when we revise our courses from perspectives outside of our own, and when we come together to learn from one another. In all of these examples, to become a beginner demands humility, vulnerability, and a suspension of certain forms of self-awareness. This is difficult and potentially scary stuff, to be sure—but it sits at the very heart of the compassion that Suzuki encourages us to embody. To be beginners with our students and with our colleagues allows us to participate in the courage that allows for boundlessness. What better position can we hope to take in cultivating learning?
As I step into the role of Dean of the LAHC division, I am humbled and joyful to find myself beginning once again, and to do so within a community that embodies so deeply the promise of the liberal arts.
And with that: Shall we begin?