Becoming the Student Again

There’s something quietly profound about stepping back into the role of a learner.

Not the kind of learning that we guide ourselves through — exploring, experimenting, following our own independent curiosity — but the kind where you place yourself in the hands of another, and allow yourself to be taught.

That’s where I find myself now, here in Mysore.

I’ve begun a 10 -day immersive course in natural dyes, eco-printing, and traditional block printing. On the surface, it’s a creative exploration… learning new techniques, new materials, new ways of working.

But underneath that, something else is unfolding. Something I didn’t quite expect.

For the past 30+ years, almost all of my creative learning has been self-directed. I’ve explored so many different art forms, styles, tools, and processes — but always in my own way. Watching, experimenting, following my curiosity, trying things out.

There’s a freedom in that kind of learning. A sense of independence. You follow what interests you, skip what doesn’t, move at your own pace. But this is different.

Here, I’m being guided step by step.

And that brings me face-to-face with something I haven’t experienced in a long time — the humility of being a student. There are moments where I notice a quiet reaction arise in me. When the teacher explains something in detail… When there’s an expectation to write things down…
When a process is broken into steps that I feel I already understand…

There’s a part of me that wants to say,
“It’s okay, I already know that.”
“I’ve done something like this before.”

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And instead of acting on it, I’ve been sitting with it. Because this is the invitation. To not need to prove anything. To not need to know. To not need to interrupt the process of being taught.

Just to listen. Just to receive. Just to be in the space of not knowing — even when I think I do.

There was a time in my life — not that long ago — where I would have placed any frustration of this guided teaching process outside of myself. I might have thought, “Why are they explaining this to me like I don’t know anything?’ I would have projected that discomfort onto the other person — seeing it as something they were doing wrong, rather than something arising within me.

But now, there’s simple awareness of it as it arises… and with that awareness comes a different kind of responsibility.

The discomfort is mine.

It doesn’t belong to the teacher, who is simply doing their role with expert care and thoroughness. It belongs to me — to notice, to reflect on, and to understand. And that changes everything.

Because instead of reacting outwardly, there’s a quiet turning inward. A willingness to sit with what’s there, rather than placing it elsewhere. And that, in itself, is the most precious kind of learning.

And in truth, this isn’t just about being here in India, or being a student again.

This is life.

These moments — the ones that agitate us, unsettle us, or create even the smallest reaction — are happening all the time. In conversations, in situations, in everyday interactions.

And so often, our first instinct is to look outward. To attribute what we’re feeling to the other person… the situation… the way something was said or done.

But again and again, the invitation is to turn inward. To recognise that what’s arising — the discomfort, the reaction, the resistance — belongs to us.

Not as something to judge or push away, but as something to understand.

It’s about seeing clearly what’s happening within ourselves… and then choosing how we meet it.

Do we sit in that reaction?
Do we follow it?
Or do we allow it to soften, to pass, to be seen without needing to act on it?

This is the work.

And it becomes subtler and subtler over time.

So while I came here to learn about natural dyes and block printing… I can feel that I’m also learning something else entirely. .. a more subtler unfolding of the ego.

And I have a feeling this part of the journey might be just as important as anything I create with my hands.