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I had been hearing about an impressive tai chi teacher named Gregory Fong since moving to Portland in 1997. It was about five years later that I convinced Briana to join me one evening and we drove to Chinatown to check out his class. Sifu (“master”) Fong, as everyone called him, was probably not more than about five feet tall, but there was something intimidating about him. He welcomed us warmly, then said, “I have two questions for you. First, do you like pain?”
Do I like pain? What is the appropriate answer here? I mumbled something like, “Maybe if there is a good reason.”
He smiled. “Question two. Do you like to work hard?”
Oh boy. I thought about asking him to define the word “like,” but instead responded with, “I guess?”
He chuckled. “Alright, you don’t know if you like pain or hard work. Just sit down on that chair then.” He pointed to a wooden folding chair against a wall covered with framed portraits of Chinese men. “Rest your hands on your thighs. Don’t lean back. Lift your feet off the floor just high enough for one sheet of paper to fit under them. See you later.” And he walked away for a long time. You can try that right now if you’re sitting.
Years later, having done a lot of hard work and endured much pain in his classes, I reflected that I did in fact like to work hard. I still didn’t like pain, but I had learned the difference between avoiding it versus using it and finding a way through it. And I decided that those two questions are useful preliminaries before almost any endeavor.
They came to mind as I was thinking about the upcoming launch of our Sacred Expansion course. It’s a required program for all of our life coaches, and worthwhile for anyone interested in growing beyond their self-imposed limitations and releasing blocks to having an exceptional life.
In the context of Sacred Expansion, if I were to ask, “Do you like pain?” what I mean is, are you willing to voluntarily experience discomfort as part of discovering what’s holding you back? Are you willing to experience the tension of psycho-spiritual growing pains? Are you willing to be uncomfortable in the short term in order to release the long term discomfort you’ve gotten used to? Are you willing to use your pain to initiate a breakthrough?
As for the question “Do you like to work hard?” what I mean is, are you willing to stick with the work of unraveling your inner knots even when it’s difficult? Are you willing to choose a higher purpose – for instance: freedom, peace, spiritual connection, joy, service to your species and planet – over and over and over? Are you willing to break some habits? Are you willing to challenge your own thoughts? Are you willing to explore parts of yourself you aren’t comfortable with? All of these tasks represent a certain form of work.
By liking hard work, I don’t mean that you get points for having a hard life or that there’s merit in making things unnecessarily difficult. In fact, a core principle Sifu taught was that hard work and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. We can be at ease while simultaneously working our hardest. Regardless of the form that our work takes, there’s no getting around the importance of consistent effort in the direction of our dreams if we want them to come to fruition.
If you’ve even thought, “I know I have greater potential than this” or, “I feel like I’m missing out on my superpowers” or, “If I could release all this baggage, I could finally feel free!” read more about Sacred Expansion. We’d love to have you join us.
Be well,
Peter
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Last week I shared a quote from spiritual teacher Jiddu Krishnamurti: “Do you want to know my secret? I don’t mind what happens.” Then we looked at the differences between an absolute spiritual truth and the relative perspective of most humans. When we encounter an absolute view that we haven’t personally realized and experienced, sometimes it doesn’t make sense or it even has the opposite effect of what was intended.
If we imagine “I don’t mind what happens” to mean “nothing bothers me,” this contradicts most people’s daily experience. But it fits right in with a common perception when we’re evolved or enlightened we’ll be imperturbable. So, without having realized the absolute truth, we might apply it to our relative experience in a way that amounts to denying our humanity.
Buddhist psychologist and author, John Welwood, who coined the term “spiritual bypass,” explained that we have a tendency to use absolute truths of spirituality to dismiss “relative human needs, feelings, psychological problems, relational difficulties, and developmental deficits.” He believed we need to recognize “two different tracks of human development— which we might call growing up and waking up, healing and awakening, or becoming a genuine human person and going beyond the person altogether.”1 Thus, it’s possible to resolve all our psychological problems without achieving a spiritual awakening, and it’s possible to wake up spiritually and still have a highly dysfunctional personality.
So, what is the place of such statements of absolute spiritual truth? In my opinion it’s still useful to expose ourselves to them. We shouldn’t confuse the destination with the path, and we shouldn’t expect ourselves to be able to embody them at will. But they can still serve as a messenger to the soul. When we encounter a statement like, “I don’t mind what happens,” perhaps it’s like a key that unlocks something within us. Maybe it stirs a place in us that remembers this, beneath the slumbering mind, and begins to initiate an unraveling of what has caused us to forget. Perhaps it inspires us to understand what this means, to experience it directly for ourselves. Perhaps it makes us ask, “What would my life be like if this were true for me?”
Meanwhile, what can you do when you find ourselves minding what happens? You’re in good company. Virtually everyone in the world has times when they mind what’s happening. People in pain, people who are afraid, people who are lonely or grieving, people who can’t fall asleep, people witnessing violence or injustice . . . most of them mind what’s happening. So here are some options.
Option one is to suffer. Highly unpleasant but very popular.
Option two is to change something external. Sometimes this is possible and useful, other times it isn’t. If you mind that you’re getting bitten by mosquitos, you could put on bug spray. If, on the other hand, you mind that your government is corrupt, you may not be in a position to significantly improve it, especially if you have a busy life and don’t plant to change careers.
This is where the famous Serenity Prayer by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr is useful – “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” If you can recognize what cannot be changed by you, it may be easier to let go of the belief that they are your business. If you’re not currently engaged with it, don’t mind it. That is, don’t give your mind to it.
Option three is to change something internal. There are several sub-options here. The first is to deny that you mind what you mind. The main way we do this is through willful ignorance. We often employ willful ignorance as a coping mechanism simply because we can’t take care of all the things that concern us in the world.
For instance, I have a 60-year-old truck that I take out occasionally to get bales of hay for our alpacas, and the exhaust stinks. I know I’m putting carbon emissions into the atmosphere, and I haven’t yet found a way to fix it. So I have to put it out of my mind (i.e., willfully become ignorant of how I am contributing to climate change) in order to lessen the amount of guilt I feel about it. It’s a mediocre way of dealing with minding what happens.
Another way to deny that you mind what’s happening is through spiritual bypass. That is, you employ a spiritual ideal you haven’t actually achieved as a way of falsely transcending your issues. Welwood explained it as using “spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks.”
I think we can agree that denial isn’t the best answer. As a band-aid, it never truly resolves the unsettled feeling that erodes your peace and infringes on your presence.
Another way of changing something internal is to consciously, sincerely explore your relationship with what you mind. Don’t say “I don’t mind” when you do mind. Be honest with yourself. And don’t say, “I shouldn’t mind” when you do mind. Consider this alternative: I do mind, but I am determined not to argue with or depart from reality.
Here we come to what I believe Krishnamurti actually meant by “I don’t mind what happens.” I don’t believe he meant that nothing could bother him. I think he meant that, regardless of what happens, he doesn’t see reality as wrong or feel it should be different. If someone were to come at him with a knife, perhaps he would have found himself knocking the knife out of their hand. This wouldn’t mean that he “minds what happens,” only that he chose to act. Whether he acted or remained entirely passive to an attack, either one would affect the course of events, so neither constitutes “minding” more than the other.
But let’s bring this back to an application for someone who hasn’t yet realized the absolute truth of not minding what happens. First, there is a difference between minding what is currently occurring here and now versus minding something that is neither. The latter is what I mean by “departing from reality.” If it’s not currently happening, see if you can bring yourself back into the present experience.
There is also a difference between minding something but accepting it versus minding something and insisting that it shouldn’t be happening. “Shouldn’t be happening” is an exercise in futility. It’s an argument against reality. Removing your resistance from the equation (to something that cannot be changed by resisting it!) reduces your suffering; and it doesn’t mean you don’t care or that you’re giving up.
Jesuit priest and author Anthony de Mello defined enlightenment as absolute cooperation with the inevitable. This is the opposite of resistance and a necessary first step before diving deeper into your relationship with what you mind.
Diving in is acceptance in action. Generally, you must set aside time and space for this. It entails meeting the inner discord with sincerity, being willing to see, hear, feel, and understand it in its entirety. It also entails a willingness to recognize how the conflict degrades you and limits your freedom. Try to maintain an attitude of openness and innocence throughout the process. This work can unravel long-held beliefs and patterns of constraint. It can enable you to move forward with constructive action, if that’s what you choose. And it can facilitate an expansion from your relativistic thinking about the issue to a more transpersonal perspective. This may not always get you to a place where you can honestly say, “I don’t mind what’s happening,” but it will bring greater clarity and peace to your experience of it.
Be well,
Peter
1Fossella, T., 2011. Human Nature, Buddha Nature: An Interview with John Welwood. [online] Tricycle: The Buddhist Review. Available at: <https://tricycle.org/magazine/human-nature-buddha-nature/> [Accessed 27 April 2022]. Welwood cautioned, “When we are spiritually bypassing, we often use the goal of awakening or liberation to rationalize what I call premature transcendence: trying to rise above the raw and messy side of our humanness before we have fully faced and made peace with it.”
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In my early 20s I had a boss who would ask me every morning, “How goes the battle?” I had never heard that expression before, but recognized that he meant, “How’s it going?” At the time I was learning about neuro-linguistic programming and becoming attuned to people’s word choices, so it struck me as an interesting – and loaded – phrase. Then I began to notice how common it is for people to characterize life as a fight – an ongoing series of conflicts, something we need to slog through, with a risk of imminent danger and an us-versus-them mentality.
Even if we see ourselves as winning the battle, if we hold this perspective, there’s still a chance of getting ambushed, right up to the last minute. So, we must always have our guard up, sleep with one eye open, check our drink for poison, and so on. It causes chronic stress, and we’re never entirely free.
Meanwhile, there are people who see life in a more positive light – as a game, a gift, an opportunity to explore, connect, experience, and be of service. Are they naïve? Are they less successful? Are they blindsided by the unexpected? I don’t believe so. If anything, because their perspective isn’t innately stress-inducing, they have greater resources for adapting to whatever comes.
I encourage you to examine your relationship with the world. How would you sum up your story? What kind of words do you use, both to others and yourself, when you talk and think about your challenges and ambitions? How do you feel about others aiming for the same goals as you? What sorts of bodily feelings go along with this? For extra support in re-wiring yourself, check out our workbook, Freedom, and try doing it for a month.
If you do find that you’re harboring a “battle” mentality, I wonder if it’s possible for you to symbolically wave the white flag, saying to the world (and yourself), “I’m not at war with you.” I know the stakes feel very high sometimes, but what if. . . (1) you could clearly see that being in ongoing conflict is more detrimental than it is beneficial to you, and (2) you had an unwavering link to something you could trust, an assurance that you are fundamentally okay, no matter what.
We often speak of rousing our inner warrior and the term “warrior” comes up a lot in self-help books. The warrior archetype is deep in our collective consciousness. Everyone knows it. And there’s a good side to it. Often, we evoke the warrior archetype when we wish to inspire ourselves to be clear, sharp, and disciplined, to stand up for our values, to protect those in need, to be brave, to have integrity and honor. But the other side of being a warrior is, of course, that you’re at war.
How can we embody these virtues without the sense of perpetual conflict? We live according to archetypes all the time – father, mother, husband, wife, cop, healer, good guy, bad guy, peacekeeper, curmudgeon, artist – mostly without realizing it. The first step is to become aware of the archetypes we’re subconsciously abiding by. Just making it conscious starts the process of releasing us from an archetype’s limitations.
Second, we can begin to forge a picture of something better and freer than any single archetype – our own Highest Self. Who would you be if you were clear, lighthearted, determined, loving, creative, peaceful, spiritual, purposeful, artful, present, honest, forgiving, kind, and brave?
Contrary to what your mind might say, that’s not too many virtues for one person to possess. You’re already somewhere on the spectrum of embodying every one of them. Whatever you dub this most-evolved you – Highest Self, Noble Leader, Queen/King, Divine Being, etc. – know that this is something you can freely choose at any moment.
Spend some time visualizing and feeling into this Highest Self. Imagine that she/he is just waiting for permission to step into the driver’s seat. When your small mind takes over and your habits run you, the Highest Self is nudged into the backseat. It may take some conscious surrender to let go of your default program and allow the better You to be in charge.
Another visualization you might find useful is to see yourself in the center of a circle of many different versions of yourself – all the possible ways you could be. Look around and see if you can spot the one that is the clearest, highest expression of your virtuous essence. Make a choice, and step into that Self. Try doing this every morning for a week and see what changes.
Be well,
Peter
[post_title] => Be Better Than A Warrior
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I had been hearing about an impressive tai chi teacher named Gregory Fong since moving to Portland in 1997. It was about five years later that I convinced Briana to join me one evening and we drove to Chinatown to check out his class. Sifu (“master”) Fong, as everyone called him, was probably not more than about five feet tall, but there was something intimidating about him. He welcomed us warmly, then said, “I have two questions for you. First, do you like pain?”
Do I like pain? What is the appropriate answer here? I mumbled something like, “Maybe if there is a good reason.”
He smiled. “Question two. Do you like to work hard?”
Oh boy. I thought about asking him to define the word “like,” but instead responded with, “I guess?”
He chuckled. “Alright, you don’t know if you like pain or hard work. Just sit down on that chair then.” He pointed to a wooden folding chair against a wall covered with framed portraits of Chinese men. “Rest your hands on your thighs. Don’t lean back. Lift your feet off the floor just high enough for one sheet of paper to fit under them. See you later.” And he walked away for a long time. You can try that right now if you’re sitting.
Years later, having done a lot of hard work and endured much pain in his classes, I reflected that I did in fact like to work hard. I still didn’t like pain, but I had learned the difference between avoiding it versus using it and finding a way through it. And I decided that those two questions are useful preliminaries before almost any endeavor.
They came to mind as I was thinking about the upcoming launch of our Sacred Expansion course. It’s a required program for all of our life coaches, and worthwhile for anyone interested in growing beyond their self-imposed limitations and releasing blocks to having an exceptional life.
In the context of Sacred Expansion, if I were to ask, “Do you like pain?” what I mean is, are you willing to voluntarily experience discomfort as part of discovering what’s holding you back? Are you willing to experience the tension of psycho-spiritual growing pains? Are you willing to be uncomfortable in the short term in order to release the long term discomfort you’ve gotten used to? Are you willing to use your pain to initiate a breakthrough?
As for the question “Do you like to work hard?” what I mean is, are you willing to stick with the work of unraveling your inner knots even when it’s difficult? Are you willing to choose a higher purpose – for instance: freedom, peace, spiritual connection, joy, service to your species and planet – over and over and over? Are you willing to break some habits? Are you willing to challenge your own thoughts? Are you willing to explore parts of yourself you aren’t comfortable with? All of these tasks represent a certain form of work.
By liking hard work, I don’t mean that you get points for having a hard life or that there’s merit in making things unnecessarily difficult. In fact, a core principle Sifu taught was that hard work and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. We can be at ease while simultaneously working our hardest. Regardless of the form that our work takes, there’s no getting around the importance of consistent effort in the direction of our dreams if we want them to come to fruition.
If you’ve even thought, “I know I have greater potential than this” or, “I feel like I’m missing out on my superpowers” or, “If I could release all this baggage, I could finally feel free!” read more about Sacred Expansion. We’d love to have you join us.
Be well,
Peter
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