Posted 12/12/2012
by Yasha Husain

'Charting the Course'
is an education
proposal
that encourages
more whole brain
thinking,
the reliance
on
interhemispheric
thinking,
which brings
together
dominant
left-
and
right-brained
thinkers, in a
closed, holistic
learning network.

The author of this
website has written
in her book, Holistic
Living: Tips for
Youth, how
people along the
autism spectrum are
naturally more
right-brained,
while "neurotypical"
people, tend to, from a young age, become dominant
left-brained
thinkers, with the exception that both
character-types
access interhemispheric, and graduated, thought.

The 'Charting the Course' education proposal
shares a vision for a school system that will help all character-types, including people who are dominant left-brained thinkers, who think more linearly, and who are dominant right-brained thinkers, who think more by association, in part by bringing them together into one classroom.

The proposal is also for a single, closed, holistic system, which interweaves the modern education system with holistic, closed systems of the world.

The full education
proposal
can right now
be viewed
using the
following
link.

With questions
or comments,
please email:
yashahusain@gmail.com.

Article - Opinion

The "Onus" of Telling the Truth
By Yasha Husain
February 19, 2013

There is none. There is no onus for telling the truth. One receives nothing but rewards for truth telling which is in good form, and good-natured. In which case, why do people sometimes falter?

It's a quandary not much talked about, but perhaps it should be. So often we opt for white lies and even metaphorical agencies instead of demonstrating right down the middle line what it is we really mean to say and how important what we mean to say is to our own identity, and the identity of the other.

Could the problems of the world be solved if every person made a transformative shift and always said what he or she meant, the truth?

We would experience the above described transformative shift if we all lived this way, including myself.

The number of times I've told white lies is actually very small. I'm one of those people who has what I call an allergy to dishonesty. But based on those times I've faltered, what a sinking feeling one walks away with, wishing, in my experience, it could have been more mature.

Is it maturity that encourages us to tell the truth? Or is maturity an answer to a problem that obstructs us, a lack of full disclosure. By full disclosure, I don't mean that to tell truth we impede on our own or anyone else's privacy, but we, when we do talk and share what we know, speak from our heart, authentically, and looking forward to the rewards that come from truth telling.

A poet speaks in metaphors and from those metaphors truth is derived, but other metaphorical agencies, and even white lies, are like an avenue to truth that's more cumbersome than direct communications and the love that accompanies communication.

I've sought for myself that I remain authentic, that I maintain my integrity that way. In my lifetime, it's at times meant considerable sacrifice, including letting people disown the truth when what's so remarkable is that they see it too.

Is this not something we as a society should reflect upon?

Sharing what you know is simple. It only requires the courage to acknowledge feelings and communicate them openly and directly.

Once, when living in Los Angeles, CA, I drove to central LA during the afternoon, into one of the poorer neighborhoods of the city. With a few minutes to spare, I crossed a major intersection and approached a corner hot dog stand for a drink. But before reaching the stand, I came across a vision that will stay with me forever. I saw a little boy with such a bright smile. He was about six-years-old and skipping along while hand-in-hand with his mother, and while looking up at me. He was, I thought, a spitting image of what the future ought to look like. I was struck by how happy he was, even as he walked in a poorer part of the city. I froze the image of his clasped, swinging hand and skipping self, with his colorful clothes and bright smile.

Later that day or else very soon after, I formed a near perfect triangle with my hands, fingers connected at their tips, while just barely arching, thumbs serving as a bridge sloping slightly downwards, and I envisioned, in the empty space that rested between my hands, the picture of the young boy, which, whenever I've since paused to form the same shape with my hands, as a means of focus, I've seen.

What I came to think of this boy and his mom, based on my experiences, was that he should be afforded the same opportunity as another child brought up in the country who achieves acceptance to one of the Ivy League or top-ranked colleges, even if he might not enter the same level of college. Shouldn't the teaching dynamics and scholastics approach of these stellar universities be consumed by all students?

I made it a mission of mine, from that day forward, to ensure kids, like the boy I saw on the street that day, would have available to them the same opportunities the best schools in America offer, by way of their multifaceted approach to teaching interdisciplinary learning skills and multitasking.

Not only did I hope each student would become a keeper of the finest wisdom teachers can distill, but my hope included that a young person's learning experience should involve coming to know multifaceted, inspiring individuals and career-building apprenticeships found off campus.

What I shared first with people was my experience: seeing this young boy skipping down the sidewalk and what it inspired in me. I mentioned to people how I'd continued to, at meditative moments, put my hands together, in the way I describe above, and pictured again this idyllic scene.

Since, I've written books relatable to education and developed an education proposal for k-12, and the college level, through to the attainment of a PhD.

I bring this experience and the image of the boy up because having become inspired by the truth I came to know on that sunny day, and by way of acknowledging my feelings, and sharing their meaning, I, on the one hand, developed resolve to help all kids attain equality at the college level and in the work force. By telling my truth to others, others became intrigued and, hopefully, inspired too.

By truth telling about my experience, and what it meant to me, it might have encouraged others to seek similar truth telling experiences, from which they can gain encouragement, perspective and an uplifted heart.

If we all could share our truth, the truth of what we know, all of the time, for the little and the big things, the world might just experience a very rewarding shift.

We should all do our best to simply tell the truth every moment of the day.