Laozi, legendary author of the Tao te Ching, By Jean-Pierre Dalbéra, Paris, France - Exposition Clemenceau, le Tigre et l'Asie (MNAA-Guimet, Paris), CC BY 2.0 I have just three things to teach:
simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.
Tao te Ching, 67. Trans. Stephen Mitchell
I have been stuck in a loop. It goes like this: I find myself with a little spare time or energy, so I commit to a couple extra projects. (Extra for me is anything besides teaching and writing.) Then life happens and I find I’ve taken on too much. I “soldier” on, trying to keep my word and maintain all of my commitments.
Writing gets put to the side and, as the chaos mounts, I use teaching as my own refuge instead of maintaining that space for my students. The pressure continues to build as I deny I’m in over my head. Then, I hit the wall.
I break down, freak out, panic, cry, and, ultimately go into hiding.
In self-fabricated crisis, I drop the extra commitments like hot rocks and find breathing room. When anxiety ruled my life, I dropped everything, not just the extra. And I stayed hidden for months and years.
A few weeks or months after finding balance, I get asked to take on one more thing, then one more thing, then . . . and the cycle repeats itself.
Why do I do this? Because I want to be of service? Yes, and . . . I want to be important to people. It’s ego attachment par excellence. Freud would call it sublimation: I’m camouflaging my need for acceptance and approval with helping behaviors. And we all need these things; we all need to be needed. What I need to realize is that the work I love and feel called to do is enough.
Those actions that feel like a natural extension of my true self are enough.
The Tao te Ching is the wisdom text I turn to when I need comfort. “Tao” is a big concept referring to something like the Universal Flow. The Tao, while it can’t be completely captured in words, is described as living close to the ground, as flowing like water, as having great strength without effort.
Since I first heard it decades ago, I’ve been attracted to the Taoist concept of wu-wei. It mean, paradoxically, “inactive action” or letting actions come from a place of stillness. Nothing is contrived. All is spontaneous.
And to get there, we practice simplicity, patience, and compassion.
So, I’ve simplified. I’ve let go of projects that are not teaching or writing. I’ve removed the Facebook app from my phone. I leave my phone behind when I go places with my family.
I’m being patient and giving myself time to let the water calm and the sand settle so I can see more clearly.
And compassion? Well, for me right now that means acceptance, not berating myself for having fallen into the same pattern again. And that might just be the hardest part.
I have just three things to teach:
simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.
simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.
Tao te Ching, 67. Trans. Stephen Mitchell
I have been stuck in a loop. It goes like this: I find myself with a little spare time or energy, so I commit to a couple extra projects. (Extra for me is anything besides teaching and writing.) Then life happens and I find I’ve taken on too much. I “soldier” on, trying to keep my word and maintain all of my commitments.
Writing gets put to the side and, as the chaos mounts, I use teaching as my own refuge instead of maintaining that space for my students. The pressure continues to build as I deny I’m in over my head. Then, I hit the wall.
I break down, freak out, panic, cry, and, ultimately go into hiding.
In self-fabricated crisis, I drop the extra commitments like hot rocks and find breathing room. When anxiety ruled my life, I dropped everything, not just the extra. And I stayed hidden for months and years.
A few weeks or months after finding balance, I get asked to take on one more thing, then one more thing, then . . . and the cycle repeats itself.
Why do I do this? Because I want to be of service? Yes, and . . . I want to be important to people. It’s ego attachment par excellence. Freud would call it sublimation: I’m camouflaging my need for acceptance and approval with helping behaviors. And we all need these things; we all need to be needed. What I need to realize is that the work I love and feel called to do is enough.
Those actions that feel like a natural extension of my true self are enough.
The Tao te Ching is the wisdom text I turn to when I need comfort. “Tao” is a big concept referring to something like the Universal Flow. The Tao, while it can’t be completely captured in words, is described as living close to the ground, as flowing like water, as having great strength without effort.
Since I first heard it decades ago, I’ve been attracted to the Taoist concept of wu-wei. It mean, paradoxically, “inactive action” or letting actions come from a place of stillness. Nothing is contrived. All is spontaneous.
And to get there, we practice simplicity, patience, and compassion.
So, I’ve simplified. I’ve let go of projects that are not teaching or writing. I’ve removed the Facebook app from my phone. I leave my phone behind when I go places with my family.
I’m being patient and giving myself time to let the water calm and the sand settle so I can see more clearly.
And compassion? Well, for me right now that means acceptance, not berating myself for having fallen into the same pattern again. And that might just be the hardest part.
I have just three things to teach:
simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and in thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.
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