5 | what if we choose not to resist?

A deeper plunge into acceptance illuminates a different way. It’s vulnerable yet spacious. Unfamiliar yet compelling.

Sitting in this peaceful, wild stretch of virtually undisturbed Kenyan coastline I feel a degree lighter in mass and a degree darker in colour, although admitedly it is a red shade that has emerged. This morning I awoke at 3.55am to dive into the first live session for my Ayurvedic studies. I was apprehensive. Not just about the ghastly hour in which to rise, but also the intensity of what I am embarking on. Sanskript words floated through my dreams, bouncing off the rhythmic sound of waves which tumbled in the background of my hearing, competiting only with the loud fan that works tiredlessly to keep us cool. I suppose it’s that familiar thinking pattern of mine cropping up again - the one that doubts my ability, my integrity, my committment. That old saying ‘I see you mara let’s have tea’ pops into my mind and although I greet her with a smile, the doubt proves troublesome to unroot, with the energy of Japanese knotwood it buries into my depths. 

The companion to self-doubt is, of course, fear. And fear is the bloodline of the ego, the - my - undeveloped ‘s’elf. I don’t think any of us really like the idea of having an ego; it tends to carry negative connotations amongst society’s collective believe systems. And yet, in recent months I have started to sense that perhaps

there’s a           spaciousness          to be found here. 

Rather than banish or diminish a part of ourselves, is it not the relationship with this part that needs to be nurtured? How do we choose to respond to these egoic tendencies? How much attention do we give them? Is the ego our endless mirror that illuminates the way in which we can become a more selfless versions of ourselves? Like the sun rising above a vast ocean of unknowing, its beaming reflection invites us to walk along its glowing path. Unlike a Samburu firefly, the light does not flicker in and out; she is steady, confident, comforting. There’s nothing to banish, nothing to be afraid of. 

So as I wandered from our little ruffled cabin in the dark through the cool sand to start my studies, I opened myself to receive whatever was about to come my way. Hearing the voice of doubt but not listening to him (I think the voice is male!?!) too closely. And what is it we discuss in our first session but the concept of Swasthya; being rooted in self! I learn here that there is room for the higher Soul ‘S’elf and the lower ego ‘s’elf to co-exist. We can be peaceful, contented and in a sound state of body, mind and soul even as the ego persists to be heard and seen. My self-doubt exists, but how real do I choose to make it?  

A dear friend has asked us to write a poem or prose about resistance. Initially streams of thoughts flood into my concious that are centered around resisting the system, the dominant collective ‘intelligence’, the overinterlectualisation tendency of science and society at large. I am reminded of this electrifying Nora Bateson poem:

Hallway of Hallways:

Trying to fix the wrong context of broken is a hallway of hallways.

The suffering is the consequence, not the problem.

Don’t solve it.

It’s not that the schools are not good enough, it is that the next generation is being squeezed into the past.

It is not that poverty is devastating it is that the economy devastates.

It is not that our bodies have been violated, it is that predators are celebrated.

It is not that the tech is evil, it is that it is unable to feel.

It is not that the doctor is wrong, it is that the poison in food, water, air and stress are beyond the reach of medication.

It is not that politicians don’t make change, it is that they are bound to keep things as they are.

It is not that the journalism is crap, it is that it is selling 1 side of a 1000 sided story.

It is not that the climate has problems, it is that identity is mixed up in material wealth.

It is not that there are dangers out there, it is that people need each other and are taught to hold back.

No committee or action team can actually reach the conditions that produce the issues.

But they can produce metrics on the solving the consequences.

It is not that there is no wish to meet the deeper needs, it is that healing cannot be divided or measured by department.

The confusion is compounding.

Going down a path that starts with an inadequate task, is the beginning of an assembly line of industrial sized overlapping systemic problems

Using the worn brushes of Edvard Munch she paints a deeply fraught picture of the state of affairs and how we are going about fixing and, with this, resisting the current status quo. There’s an undercurrent of anger throwing the river-bed pebbles about relentlessly. Anger has its place - it can reveal to us what really matters to us. It can be expressed healthily and be redirected towards good. (Better that than having a constantly sore back, overbore from acting as the store-house of these complex emotions whirling with tantivity!)

Yet as I have sat with this inquiry of resistance more I realise that it is the spiritual teachings of cultivating the opposite, of deep acceptance that resonate instead. This does not mean giving up, this does not mean not feeling the pain, anger and anguish. It means - again - changing one’s relationship to the set of circumstances. Jung urged us that "what you resist not only persists, but will grow in size", and Eckhart Tolle complements this by uttering “whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists”.

So if I am fighting these neurological symptoms that continue to make themselves feel at home or fighting this mechanistic way of viewing the world, all I am really doing is accentuating their grip, allowing them to dominate how I perceive things to be - all of which leads to my very own suffering. And by default, the suffering of others too. If I am to take Tolle’s advice to heart and “offer no resistance to life [then I will] be in a state of grace, ease, and lightness”. This certainly feels more compelling, yet also a little vulnerable. What would become of such active surrender to life?

I believe we, and thus the wider wonderous world, changes not from being told what to change to or how to change - even if articulated with the best intentions; fueled by anger or love. I believe it emerges from inspiration, from wonder, from a sense of possibility and hope. Yes the state of the world today is ‘bad - if we so choose to judge in that way - yet even in 1854, Thoreau's Walden speaks of the state of the world being troubled. This background of chaos, of the earth grumbling in pain, of stark inequality has persisted through time and will continue to persist until we become more compassionate and selfless as a interconnected web of life, until we find peace within ourselves, until we learn to sit with ourselves gazing at this mesmerising elusive shared ocean - humbled by our insignficance and moved to put more unconditional love into this living, dying world.

As usual, signing off with a pondering: what could you focus more attention on culivating rather than taking effort in resisting what once felt vital to change?

With acceptance, Tash x

———————

What’s been sparking my curiosity?

Hearing: the lapping waves of the Indian Ocean, whispering to me that I am but a drop in an infinite pool of life. That hardships come and go, disappearing into the depth of calm that is always present.

Seeing: plants, trees and grasses in Nairobi erupt into blossom from heavy nighttime rains and hot daytimes. As John O’donohue says: “The arrival of spring is a miracle of the richest colour. Yet we always seem to forget that all of these beautiful colours have been born in darkness. Think of the patience of trees. Year after year stretching up to the light, keeping a life line open between the dark night of the clay and the blue shimmer of the heavens. Think of the beautiful, high contours of mountains lifting up the earth, the music of streams and the fluent travel of rivers linking the stolid silence of landmasses with the choruses of the ocean. Think of animals who carry in their dignity and simplicity of presence such refined longing. Think of your self and feel how you belong so deeply on the earth and how you are a tower of longing in which nature rises up and comes to voice. We are the children of the clay who have been released so that the earth may dance in the light.”

Tasting: pungent neem powder intermingled with sour pineapple. Gulping down what is good for me, believing that it is and yet royally failing to find joy along the way!

Smelling: the rotting pile of rubbish deep within Gikomba, one of East Africa’s largest open air markets. We inch closer, believing that the only way out was to scamper past. I look at the sellers working alongside the dump, almost in harmony, and cannot help but wonder how they manage it, why they have to manage it. What assult on their senses and dignity. A kind women sweeps us up and shows us another way out. There’s never just one path before us…

Touching: gently exploring the body of another. The curvature, the smells, the peculiarites. Mind fraught from the interwoven complexities of connection yet the potency of desire compassionately alchemising fears.

Feeling: courageous as navigate difficult conversations of the heart yet with greater faith in the power of sisterhood, of shared care and trust. Yet also with pain from the undeserved ripple effect of action. And with confusion, how can we balance our own heart with the heart of another - deeply cherishing both, never choosing one over the other but allowing both to dance and flourish and exist in ecstasy.

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone” ~ Blaise Pascal, mathematician and philosopher