Let Love Carry You

 

Let love carry you where it will

Along the currents of the vast universe

Countless marvels to behold

Do not struggle

Fear will not keep you from your destiny

But you will miss the splendor 

Of this precious life

The Trap of Being “Good”

 

Wanting to be good is a good thing. Right? I want to be a good person, a good mother, a good friend, and so on. And I want others to see me as good. I want my goodness reflected back to me in how others think of me, talk about me, and act towards me. 

Wanting to be good and to be seen as good can motivate us to conform our behavior to this ideal. And that seems like a desirable aspiration. 

It can, however, also result in avoidance of noticing thoughts or behaviors that do not meet this ideal of goodness. We can become defensive instead of receptive when someone reflects back to us something we’ve done or said that falls short. We rationalize, justify, explain – whatever it takes to deflect an honest assessment or genuine listening.

Or perhaps we go to the opposite extreme. If we acknowledge our imperfections, our identity as a good person is crushed, and we are lost in self judgment and condemnation. If I do something bad, then I must not be good. I am one or the other.

We are so invested in our identity of goodness, and fearful of not measuring up in our own eyes or the eyes of others, that we cannot accept ourselves as complex human beings with a full range of thoughts and behaviors. We lose any chance of being or knowing who we are, and with that loss, any chance of true connection with others. It’s like “my people will talk to your people,” but it’s really “my facade of goodness will interface with your facade of goodness.” 

This issue of being a good person comes up a lot in conversations about bias, especially about unconscious or implicit bias. Bias is often denied because someone is a “good person” and therefore cannot be biased, because any bias would make the person “bad.” That denial then effectively closes off any open dialogue or genuine self reflection about the inevitable existence of biases woven into our conscious and unconscious thoughts and behaviors.

Such denial also takes a lot of effort to maintain. It is exhausting to fragment ourselves, defending the parts that reinforce our goodness, and rejecting and hiding the parts that don’t. It tires me just thinking about it! 

As the saying goes, what we resist, persists. Our resistance to open and honest self inquiry doesn’t make us better people. It strengthens those aspects of ourselves we try to keep hidden. What if we could set aside our need to be good and our fear of being bad? What if we could allow ourselves to see the fullness and richness of who we are? Those parts locked up in the darkness, when brought to the light of acknowledgment with honesty and compassion, can be transformed with the love of understanding and forgiveness. 

It’s not as scary as it sounds. On the contrary, it is a relief. Not long ago, someone reflected back to me something I had done that was hurtful. Before, I would have gotten defensive and explained how the person had misinterpreted what had happened. I would have told my side of things, in such a way to show how my intentions had been good. In short, I would have tried to convince the other person that they were wrong to feel the way they did, and if they would just see things the way I did, all would be well. My “goodness” would be reaffirmed. 

I admit, that impulse was still there ... for a moment. But I was able to take a deep breath and listen. That listening helped me see the situation from the other person’s perspective, to acknowledge the pain they had experienced. While I couldn’t go back and change what I had done, I could accept responsibility for my own words and actions. I could accept this person’s experience without trying to invalidate it or fix it. Instead, I could learn from it. I could consider how I might have handled things better, how I might be able to take that awareness with me into future interactions. 

Goodness is not the issue. I was not a bad person because I had done something hurtful. I was not a good person because I listened. Honesty is the issue. Compassion is the issue. Compassion for the other person’s pain. Compassion for myself as a person who makes mistakes. And in that compassion is relief. 

When we release ourselves from the trap of goodness, we are free. And in that freedom, genuine relationship is possible. And that is good. 

Writing this post reminds me of one of my favorite children’s books – The Fire Cat, by Esther Averill. 

"Pickles, you are not a bad cat. You are not a good cat. You are good and bad. And bad and good. You are a mixed-up cat."

Aren’t we all?

Who Asks

 

Who speaks to me

In quiet words

Whispered in my soul

Who guides me sure 

Across my days 

With wisdom kind and pure

Who comforts me

And lets me see

The wonders beyond fear

Who finds me

No matter where I go

And stays beside me near

I know not

And yet I do

So why need I to wonder

The answer given

Is the same each time

Who asks, my heart,

Who asks

Expanding Our Sphere

A minister was giving what I call an “audition sermon” at a church, in hopes of being called as their pastor. After the sermon, members of the congregation were invited to ask questions. Like many churches, this one was becoming smaller and grayer as the members aged. One person asked the minister what he would do to “grow” the church. He responded, “That depends on what you are willing to risk. Everyone like you is already here.” 

This is true for many of us in our individual lives as well. We seek the comfort of familiarity – with people, events, ideas, beliefs. We shun whatever causes us discomfort. Pause for a moment and consider what might fall in that category. Take an honest inventory. Something might surprise you. 

For example, I found that in certain circumstances, I was more concerned by what other people think than I realized. Even more, I was concerned by what I thought they might think. Since I generally see myself as someone who boldly marches to the beat of my own drum, I felt a little disappointed. That disappointment also caused some discomfort. I can also get impatient with people who do not behave the way I think they should. And I can feel awkward, and sometimes envious, around people who have what I describe as an “artist’s eye” on the world, a perspective that often seems mysterious and incomprehensible to me. 

My list can go on indefinitely, but what all these things have in common is that they create in me a sense of unease, dissonance, misalignment, distress – sometimes insignificant and hardly noticed, sometimes overwhelming and threatening. 

They are all on the edge, or beyond the edge, of my sphere of acceptance. We mistakenly believe that if we can exclude those things from our sphere that cause us discomfort, we can rest in peace within our safe boundaries. But this is what I’ve found. None of those rejected things actually cause my distress. It is the rejection itself that is the problem. It is my struggle with reality, trying to make reality conform to my desire, that creates the conflict that disturbs me. And a struggle with reality is always doomed to failure. Every time.

So what happens if I stop defending the borders of my sphere and instead allow my sphere to expand to include whatever arises in my awareness? Nothing is denied. Go back to my list. Can I allow within my sphere my occasional concern with what other people think? And my related self judgment? Can I accept that I am sometimes impatient or awkward? Can I recognize my absence of control over what other people think or say or do? And my attendant frustration? If I’m unable to embrace what I reject, can I embrace my rejection? 

Expanding our sphere of acceptance to include what is, as it is, doesn’t mean we like everything. In fact, our dislike and can be within our sphere too. It just means that we are not denying reality. And that is when true peace is possible. 

A moment of radical acceptance is a moment of genuine freedom. ~Tara Brach

Who’s That Old Lady?

This is a “joke’s on me” story. I love martial arts. I have practiced various martial arts over the years. These days, it’s taiji, sword, and staff. I recently took a video of myself practicing a sword form. In my head I looked like this:

When I watched the video, my first thought was “Who’s that old lady with the big butt flapping that sword around?” 

Ah, reality. I had a good laugh at myself. What a great opportunity to truly see and embrace things as they really are. And still love life. 

On the other hand, there is no harm in enjoying our fantasies. When my daughter was young, she liked to wear a pink T shirt on her head and pretend she had long hair. She wanted to wear it to go shopping one day, and asked me if people would think she had long hair. No, I said with a smile. They will think you have a pink T shirt on your head. 

She paused for a moment, then flipped her pink “hair” around her shoulders and said confidently, No they won’t. And off she skipped. 

Note to self – no more videos! 

New Growth

 

Like a child holding its mother's hand

New growth confidently emerges at branch's end

Dancing with joyful abandon

Safely held

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 81

This is it, the last chapter of the Tao Te Ching. I began this series on the 81 chapters of this ancient text almost five years ago. Wow, that is hard for me to believe. The intention for the series was to share some reflections on each chapter based on my decades long love of this wisdom teaching, which led me to spend several years delving into the mystery and beauty of the original Chinese characters. What I’ve tried to offer is not another translation of each chapter – there are already so many of those – but rather some insight or application that has arisen in my own life through my engagement with the text. 

So here we are, at the end which does not feel like the end. The motion of Tao is cyclical, manifesting and returning, rather than linear. It ends where it begins. This is the way. 

With that in mind, I’m drawn to the very end of this chapter, which, at least to me, sums up the arc of wisdom throughout the Tao Te Ching. 

Heaven’s Tao benefits yet does not interfere

Sage’s Tao acts yet does not contend

Here is our model for living in awakened moments. The energy of the universe is like the sun, providing light and warmth to all without regard to merit, without judgment, without manipulation. The ten thousand things of creation evolve and unfold according to their nature. We don’t have to look far to see how interference, no matter how well intentioned, often leads to unexpected and undesired results. This, in turn, requires more and more manipulation, layers upon layers of course correction to restore balance, which is never truly achieved and must be artificially maintained. 

We can think of examples in our communities and in our own lives where we sought to make some improvement or to bestow some benefit that did not turn out the way we imagined. Think kudzu. For more entertaining examples, think of all the science fiction tales based on time travel that wreaks havoc with history’s trajectory, or medical breakthroughs that unleash unanticipated devastation. It’s no accident that Star Trek’s “prime directive” prohibited interference with the natural development of alien civilizations. (And yes, some of the best storylines in Star Trek involved the violation of the prime directive!)

Yet non-interference does not mean non-engagement. The sage acts. The key is in the absence of striving or contending. Appropriate actions arise naturally and effortlessly when they are in harmony with the movement of Tao’s intrinsic energy. Ordinary people sometimes act in extraordinary ways, and we call them heroes. When asked about their actions, they often say that they didn’t think. They just instinctively responded to a perceived need. I’m thinking of a man I read about recently who, in the moments after his outside wedding, saw a boy drowning in a canal. Leaving his bride and the photographer wondering what was going on, he raced to the water’s edge and without hesitation jumped in the water and pulled the boy out. 

Not all examples are so dramatic. I’m thinking of a friend who baked cookies for me when I was having a really bad day. When presented with the cookies, I burst into tears of gratitude. Her gesture was perfect and exactly what I needed. She thought nothing of it, but to me it changed everything.

When we self reflect, we can often see that most of our effort and striving happens in our thinking minds, when we are struggling with what is, wanting it to be something different, wanting someone else to be different, wanting ourselves to be different. When we contend with reality, we will always lose. But when we loosen our rigid grip, when we release our insistence, when we allow awareness to open unimpeded, our way becomes clear in its own time, and we follow its path with effortless energy. 

Thus we come full circle in this ancient wisdom teaching. The first chapter of the Tao Te Ching ends with the character for doorway or gate, inviting us into the mystery of an awakened life, lived fully in harmony with the natural expression of creation. This last chapter reveals how life unfolds when we walk through the door.

The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. ~T. S. Eliot

I hope you have enjoyed this series. You can access the entire series by clicking on the label Tao Te Ching chapter series below, or over in the right column under the list of labels.