The last rose of November

Influencing Others

One of my neighbors reminded me recently of why I try to stay friendly with him, while maintaining my distance—or shall I say, a “safe distance.” He’s the macho half of a couple who seem constantly to be in conflict with people around them; they have the reputation of folks you don’t want to cross, as the consequences can quickly escalate into unpleasantness. When I met them many years ago, it was luckily a friendly introduction, but something about their mannerisms that day told me to be cautious. Ever since, we’ve maintained a circumspect attitude towards them and we have remained quite cordial.

The recent incident that came close to causing a fracas with them was initiated when our dog wandered over on their land. The pup was not recognized by them, and they called the local dog warden. Luckily our dog quickly returned (avoiding the unpleasant task of my needing to ransom him from the local authorities) and the incident did not mushroom.

Pondering what had happened, how it came about, and how close it was to an escalation, it occurred to me that my neighbor’s way of dealing with others is to try to influence people by intimidation. In order to get what they want from others they try to foster awe in them, to put a little fear in them, to suggest that they have a power that you’d better think twice about challenging.

This is a common way for people to relate to others in our society—a way that is constantly taught us by our culture. It’s hard to watch a TV or cinematic drama and not see someone using intimidation to manipulate others. The word “respect” once upon a time meant admiration for the qualities of someone, or regard for their rights and wishes. It meant that one was polite to others. Nowadays when you hear a macho dude use the word “respect,” he means he’s intimidated someone, so they now act browbeaten and compliant in his presence. He gets what he wants through fear.

There’s a similar but contrasting way that some people deal with others: via manipulation. I have another neighbor who uses this method in his dealings with people. He’s a master at cleverly—and often unfairly—controlling people. He comes on as very friendly when you first meet him, but you quickly get the sense that he’s pulling one over on you. The local community has several tales about how this fellow wangled his way in a situation, leaving the wangled one feeling cheated.

As you might guess, these two neighbors—who, unfortunately in their eyes, live next to each other—hate each other. Sparks have repeatedly flown when they interact. Lawsuits and threats have been tossed down like iron gauntlets. It has demanded our best balancing skills to stay on friendly terms with each of these intimidating or manipulative neighbors. So far, we’ve pulled it off. I intend never to be caught on the battlefield when they clash.

Fall Floating Leaf

Fighting What Is--Part 2

It must be understood that The Work does not ask us to submissively accept whatever happens to us. It does not mean that we forget about what was done or condone it. We do not even try to talk ourselves into liking it. It's not learning to be passively apathetic. Far from it.

Rather, in doing The Work, we're trying to step outside ourselves; take a step back, and look honestly and dispassionately at our negative response. When we feel ourselves fighting reality, it's time to do some inner inquiry and see if our understanding of reality just might be a little distorted. The more we create stories, and the more we repeatedly buy into these stories, the more likely these fabrications are to become rigid and unrealistic beliefs that control us.

When we can step outside ourselves, however, we might find that we become curious—rather than angry. We open ourselves up to reality. We quit shrouding and obscuring reality. We begin to see the validity of the axiom, "The truth will set you free." The questions that Katie has us pose to ourselves help cast the shroud aside.

So when we do The Work, we find we are able to open ourselves to the truth. We gain a freedom that allows us to respond in creative ways that we were absolutely unable to comprehend, as long as we are trapped by our illusions. The result is that we begin to positively and constructively participate in the present moment. We break away from being trapped in the past. 

What then follows is change; real change. Our happiness follows this change. Let me put it a little differently: True happiness comes from me changing—not making the other person change.

Let me try a simple analogy. Say I'm trying to ski smoothly down a hill, but I bang into a tree. I get angry at it, and, as a result of getting pulled into a battle and obsessed with the past, I bang into more trees. I think that my happiness could be assured if those damned trees were changed…if they were cut down! 

But of course I'd never be happy skiing down a denuded hill. Even if I succeeded, I'd quickly find something else to bitch about. (“Who got rid of all those beautiful trees?”) How much more fun skiing could be, though, if I could find a way to be fully in the moment—fully alert, as I effortlessly and skillfully glide downhill, threading my way between the trees, because I see them coming! It's hard for me to see how to do that right now—especially when I'm so consumed with anger at those damned trees that seem to get in my way; especially the one I just hit.

The wisdom of Taoism tells me that if I apply an ounce of effort in the present moment—in harmony with the universe—that it's far more effective than applying a ton of force to fix something later. Let me apply a nudge now, guided by my attention to the present, rather than an angry fixation with the past. It’s my freedom. With it I help create a better future!

Katydid on Window Screen

Fighting What Is--Part 1

Byron Katie (an author and teacher) had a revelation years ago, that led her to an understanding of how we have the propensity to increase our suffering by the manner in which we react to events in our world. She makes the point that it is folly to get as upset about things that happen to us as we do, since we invest so much energy in fighting what is.

Here's a typical scenario that she describes: Something happens to me. I become disturbed by it. I wish it hadn't happened. In fact, I feel that it's not right that it happened; it's even wrong. I begin to fret and fuss about it. I may even get angry and very judgmental about it. As a result, I end up getting stuck on it and stewing about the event and the person who committed the perceived offense.

The incident may have been, for example, something said by a family member, or a co-worker, or a neighbor. It may have been some action on the part of the president, or Exxon-Mobil, or Wall Street bankers. They did something and I self-righteously judged it to be wrong, and then put energy into getting angry over it. When I do this I have stiffened up and am fighting what they did; mostly fighting the past. But if I respond in this way, I find myself getting stuck on wanting to change history. The event/action has happened, however. It simply is, and now I'm foolishly engaged in a battle with the past—as though I believe I could change it.

In Katie's understanding, I have fallen victim to a chain reaction that can be repeated, again and again. When I fall into this trap, I allow my life to be diminished and manipulated by the disagreeable actions of others. The greater problem for me in the long run is not what they've done, but how I have allowed it to disturb my life. It’s not what they did that is the greater problem, it’s my response that has caused me ongoing grief. I have generated a story about it—why it shouldn't have happened, why I don't like it, why it disappointed me, why the other person shouldn’t be that way, what I want them to do to make me happy, what I think of them, what I would like to do to them, or what they deserve for their bad action. I get all churned up inside and obsess over the incident.

I show my foolishness in this kind of response in several ways: (1) I continue to be upset about the past, about something that has already happened; (2) I'm wallowing in anger, as I waste my energy on something that is impossible to change; (3) I'm allowing myself to become unhappy, as I project the cause of all my suffering onto the other person; and (4) I'm stuck in a story that blocks me from seeing the truth and prevents me from taking any positive and meaningful action to improve things. These are all of the kinds of suffering I cause myself when I don't like reality and find myself at war with it.

Is there a wiser way to respond? Is there a way to begin opening to the reality of what is, to accept it—even (heaven forbid!) come to come to love it? Yes, and that's what Katie calls "The Work". I won't go into the process here—she does it best, and she can be quickly checked out by an Internet search. I want to describe here some of the feelings and possibilities that I have experienced by trying the process.

Katie proposes four direct and simple questions that we may ask ourselves, when we are feeling angry and judgmental over what someone has done: (1) Is it true?, (2) Can you absolutely know that it's true?, (3) How do you react? What happens when you believe that thought?, and (4) Who would you be without the thought? These questions jerk us out of our usual oppositional response. They make us pause for a few moments, which gives us the space to inquire about what really may have happened, rather than the story that we've created. We are asked to put our energy into inquiry in her plan, rather than resistance to what happened.

More on The Work next time...

Injured Hummingbird

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