Giving Thanks for Simple Things

Covid-19 has transformed Thanksgiving. This year we should shelter within our bubbles and stay close to home. Rather than complaining about a downsized holiday, let’s use this as an opportunity to rediscover the wisdom of living modestly and being thankful.

Ancient wisdom celebrates gratitude and simplicity. Ancient sages teach us to be grateful for simple things and to celebrate abundance without extravagance.

Thanksgiving has strayed far from this idea. Rather than a time to count your blessings and give thanks, it became an orgy of over-indulgence. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade is a department store advertising gimmick. The Black Friday frenzy is far removed from gratitude. Good riddance to these extravagances.

The Puritans of New England would be appalled that this festival of gluttony and greed commemorated their colonial adventure. The Puritans connected thanksgiving with repentance and purification. Instead of feasting, early Americans typically linked the ritual of giving thanks to fasting. Thomas Jefferson called for” public days of fasting and thanksgiving” when he was governor of Virginia. During the civil war, Abraham Lincoln called for several days of “fasting and thanksgiving.” In 1863, when Lincoln declared a national day of thanksgiving, he called for a day of prayer and “humble penitence.”

This may go too far for those of us with a more secular orientation. But there is wisdom in humility and abstinence. You don’t have to be a Puritan to understand this. Abstinence clarifies values. Fasting heightens appreciation for simple things. A thanksgiving feast that breaks a fast should consist of modest fare, eaten mindfully.

Mindfulness, gratitude, and abstinence are linked in most of the world’s traditions. Muslims practice something like this during Ramadan. The Buddha fasted and meditated on the way to enlightenment. Ancient Taoist texts speak of “fasting of the mind” giving rise to the freedom of emptiness.

This is not as far out and mystical as it sounds. Mindful self-restraint quiets envy and desire. The consuming self is like a vacuum. It sucks things in: food, pleasure, and possessions. But all of this frantic sucking produces anxiety, fear, greed, and envy.

The mindful self stops sucking. It becomes less focused on its own emptiness and more aware of its secret abundance. The Greek sage Epicurus said that we already possess all that we need in abundance. But we are confused. We mistake wealth for happiness. And we allow greed to make us ungrateful.

When we discover self-sufficient abundance, it overflows. It then becomes easier to give—and to give thanks. The consuming self is a sucker and a taker. The grateful self is content with what it has. And in its contentment, it discovers compassion.

The ancient Greeks advise us to gratefully accept what fate gives us. Seneca recommended an occasional fast as a reminder to be thankful. This trains the spirit to be content no matter what fate sends our way. Stoic serenity does not depend on money or good fortune. Rather, it is built upon simplicity and gratitude.

Seneca expressed these ideas in a letter criticizing the Saturnalia, the Roman equivalent of our holiday season. He complained that preparations for the annual orgy went on all year. And he noted that the season culminated in drunkenness and vomiting. Seneca said it is wise to avoid all of that and to learn to “celebrate without extravagance.”

The pandemic can help us re-learn this ancient lesson. The usual extravagances have been cancelled. And we are forced to abstain. Rather than complain, let’s rediscover the wisdom of simplicity and gratitude.

November 8, 2020November 8, 2020

Quit Complaining

In his victory speech Joe Biden said, “put away the harsh rhetoric, and lower the temperature.” He’s right. Let’s be done with grievance and aggravation. Constant complaining cramps the soul and sickens society.

My grandfather put this crudely. He’d often say, “quit your bitchin’.” A poet would say, “Let us not be aggrieved.”

The grievance machine runs on bile. President Trump is complainer-in-chief. He has griped and grumbled for years: from American carnage to a rigged election. Conservative commentators copy his kvetching and complain about the “frauds and liars” in the liberal establishment.

Of course liberals love lambasting Trump. They also lament his popularity. After the election a headline in Politico said, “Democrats look at Trump voters and wonder, ‘What the hell is your problem?’”

All of this complaining causes heartburn. Grievance produces grief. Anger begets animosity. And a small mind gets focused on small things.

There is a time and place for righteous indignation—but it is a narrow place and a limited time. Genuine injustice ought to enrage us. But rage can burn a hole in your heart if it is not transformed into creative activity.

Common sense teaches this. Complaining about being hungry does not fill your stomach. Whining about the wind won’t stop it from blowing. But griping and groaning will certainly make you more miserable.

Ancient wisdom traditions tell us to bear hardship without complaint. They emphasize resilience and teach us to give up grousing. The Stoics recommend taking things as they come without wishing them to be otherwise. The Taoists teach us to stop fussing and fuming by learning to flow with the changes .

The wisdom of patient endurance and going with the flow is obvious. But quiet retreat is not the whole answer. The further lesson is to get to work. We ought to transform resentment into resourceful action. If the wind is blowing, close the window. If you are hungry, cook something.

Scoop Nisker used to say, “if you don’t like the news, go out and make some of your own.” We might add, “if you don’t like what’s happening, then either fix it or shut up.”

Partisanship feeds on outrage. The headlines called this the most important election of our lifetime. The Republicans claimed it was a fight against socialism, anarchist violence, and leftist totalitarianism. The Democrats claim.ed it was a fight against fascism, authoritarianism, and malicious incompetence.

This created historically high voter turnout. But a third of eligible voters didn’t bother to vote. While the partisans are screaming, a third of Americans opted out. Maybe the screaming has turned them off. Some non-voters are ignorant and lazy. But some are sickened by the vitriol of the public sphere.

Grievance is a sales technique. It keeps us glued to our screens. Clever partisans fan the flames of grievance and complaint. But this divides us and closes people’s minds.

Our complainer-in-chief is a master of the dark art of aggravation. His vain boasts and vile complaints are mostly hot air. But his followers love it. His opponents love to hate it. And the viewing public keeps tuning in.

The Trump era is like spicy food. It’s exciting. But it disrupts the digestion. Some people get addicted to the cycle of heat and misery. Others can’t stand the smell it leaves behind.

It’s wise to stop binging on spicy stuff. Most people intuitively understand this. It is difficult to live life permanently aggrieved. Active people have little time for grievance. We have work to do, families to care for, and activities to enjoy.

Of course, there is irony in complaining about complaining. At some point, we just need to stop it.

The world’s traditions teach us how to lower the temperature. Instead of grumbling, be grateful. Instead of complaining, have deep conversations. And instead of pulling your hair out, put your hands to work.

March 20, 2020March 30, 2020

Compassion, Simplicity, and Patience during Quarantine

Fresno Bee, March 20, 2020

In times of crisis it is natural to reassess and reprioritize. Once the initial panic subsides, let’s use our time sheltering in place as an opportunity to seek wisdom.

First and foremost, let’s learn compassion. The sick and suffering need our support, as do the isolated and afraid. This is always true. While COVID-19 clogs the headlines, cancer and other diseases have not gone away. Loneliness, depression, and other maladies may be exacerbated by C-19 restrictions. Compassion brings us together in our distress. It takes us beyond narrow self-interest. It helps us grow as we give it away.

Let’s also learn simplicity. We must find joy in living a bit closer to the ground. This is an involuntary sabbath, a sabbatical from consumer culture. A sabbatical is a time of renewal and regeneration. Let’s use this is an opportunity to learn to live a life that is simple, plain and true. Life is good, even without the chaos of consumer society.

Finally, we must learn patience. We are all anxious to get back to our lives. But anxiety undermines well-being. Let’s urge on the scientists and doctors. But a vaccine will take some time. We have to wait for the disease to run its course. While we wait, let’s cultivate the virtue of patience. We’ve lived for too long in a world of instant downloads and fast food. Patience is the ability to defer gratification and endure hardship. This is a life skill. It is closely connected to courage, perseverance, and even to love.

Compassion, simplicity, and patience were celebrated as the “three treasures” of Taoism. This ancient Chinese philosophy is useful in times of crisis. The wisdom of Taoism teaches us to be yielding, flexible, and resilient. One translation of the three jewels calls them mercy, moderation, and humility. Another translation speaks of love, unpretentiousness, and modesty.

Whatever we call them, these three virtues are essential in a time of crisis. And even in ordinary times, it is wise to be merciful, mellow, and moderate.

Without compassion, we end up isolated and alone. In a crisis, there is a tendency to think that it is “every man for himself.” But this only makes things worse by increasing loneliness, conflict, and fear. Compassion is the root of human connection. Others need our support just as we need theirs. We are all in this together.

If we do not value simplicity, we will bristle at the restrictions imposed upon us in this crisis. Anger and resentment are not helpful. Even in times of crisis, plain and primary goods can be found. Without simplicity, we fail to find contentment in what we have. Right now we can enjoy humor and friendship, natural beauty and art, music and knowledge.

Finally, patience allows us to endure hardship without losing hope. Without patience, we act rashly and without foresight. In a crisis, quick decisions are important. But quick action must not lose sight of the long run. Panicked reactions make things worse. Fortitude, persistence, and hope makes things better.

These three treasures are always valuable. But they are easily forgotten in the frantic pace of what we call ordinary life. Our culture encourages individualism at the expense of solidarity. It glorifies consumption and wealth. It teaches us to be intolerant and unkind.

Let’s learn from the present crisis to live better when things get back to normal. Or better yet, let’s imagine a new normal. For a while now, it has seemed that our way of life has been unbalanced. For too long, we have lived at a furious pace. The planet is groaning under the weight of human consumption. Our social lives have become fragmented. Our political life is polarized. The truth has been lost under blizzards of bull. Our physical and mental health suffers from a life out of balance.

This mandatory pause in ordinary life—our viral sabbatical—is an opportunity to re-balance things and build better habits. Let’s learn to enjoy simple goods and reduce over-consumption. Let’s work to develop patience and forbearance. Let’s learn to care better for the sick and the suffering. And let’s view this crisis as an opportunity to unearth the treasures of wisdom.

October 17, 2014October 20, 2014

Let it go: Amish and Taoist Peace and Forgiveness

Simple spirituality can teach us to say ‘let it go’

BY ANDREW FIALA

FresnoBee October 17, 2014

I recently attended a conference in Lancaster, Pa., focused on forgiveness and peace. Amish farms dot the countryside and Amish farmers in horse-drawn buggies roam the hills under turning leaves. What a great place to discuss forgiveness and peace.

A guiding idea for the Amish is the concept of Gelassenheit. This German word means “letting things be” or “letting go.” This idea guides the simple and modest life of the Amish, who avoid vanity, pride and the temptations of the modern world.

A recent book on Amish spirituality by Donald Kraybill explains that Amish Gelassenheit is the opposite of the “bold, assertive individualism of mainstream American culture.” The Amish encourage submission, humility and simplicity as well as forgiveness, peace, love and community.

Our bold and assertive individualism may be the root of many of our problems: crime, war, ecological disaster and social dislocation. Mainstream culture does not encourage us to be yielding or to be humble. Nor are we content to go easy in the world. Would you exchange your car for a horse and buggy, your cell phone for a simpler life?

We fill our lives with gadgetry and we charge down the freeway at breakneck speed. We celebrate heroes who impose their will upon the world. We are rarely encouraged to give way, to yield, or to simply let things be. We are too busy asserting ourselves, defending our rights and expressing our outrage.

But a yielding and gentle spirit is the heart of peaceful human relations. Consider forgiveness. To forgive is to give up on resentment, revenge and the right to retaliate. If I forgive you, I let you get away with what you’ve done. I forgo the right to punishment or compensation. Forgiveness leaves the injury behind, lets go of the past and allows the future to unfold anew.

Love is also connected to letting go. Loving human beings relinquish their egos in communion with others. We want those we love to flourish and grow, to become fully themselves. Loving parents guide their children gently, encouraging development with an accepting spirit.

Some may worry that peaceful yielding and loving forgiveness undermine discipline and order. Some still believe that if you spare the rod, you spoil the child. But peaceful and harmonious communities do not need coercive force. Obedience based upon cruelty is superficial. True moral communities develop when people are patiently persuaded to discover natural affinities and common good.

My contribution at the Lancaster conference was a talk on Taoism. The Chinese philosophers also celebrate the spirit of letting go and letting be. Taoist wisdom encourages us to let things be the way they are. The Taoists emphasize living naturally, spontaneously, without conniving or contriving.

There are huge differences between Amish Christianity and Chinese Taoism. The Amish emulate Jesus and submission to God by saying, “Thy will be done.” The Taoists emphasize finding balance and harmony in nature. They are inspired by natural metaphors, encouraging us, for example, to emulate water, which flows, yields and conforms to the world.

Despite this essential difference, the Taoists and the Amish are similar in advocating retreat from the aggressive world of competitive culture. The Taoists retreated to the mountains of China. The Amish retreated to the hills of Pennsylvania.

Our fast-paced competitive world does not have much room for Gelassenheit. We tamper and tinker, judge and manipulate. We celebrate innovators, entrepreneurs and explorers. The bold individualism of our world is quite different from the quiet agrarian life of the Amish. It is also quite different from the life of the Taoist wanderer, who prefers nothing better than to peacefully fish in a mountain pond.

There is profound wisdom in the slow corners of the world, where letting things go is a way of life. Some of that wisdom should be allowed to influence the contemporary world. Gelassenheit is a concept that ought to enter into our moral vocabulary.

We ought to learn to say, “Thy will be done.” We ought to learn to flow like water. We ought to learn the wisdom of leaving things alone. When people complain about stress — when they are angry, resentful or aggressive — we ought to say to them, Gelassenheit — let it go, leave it be.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2014/10/17/4184601_simple-spirituality-can-teach.html?rh=1#storylink=cpy

February 7, 2014March 9, 2014

We must learn to live in harmony with nature

BY ANDREW FIALA

Fresno Bee February 7, 2014

Some have prayed to God to end our drought. But drought is not about God’s will. It’s about our habits. Human beings choose how to use the rain that falls. Despite the recent showers, we still need the wisdom to adapt to changing conditions.

Drought is a relative term that depends upon long-term average rainfall. Drought in the Olympic rain forest is different from drought in California. But we may have misjudged California’s long-term average. The 20th century was wetter than previous centuries. Less rain may be the new normal.

We must respond to local conditions and new circumstances. But we often ignore the constraints of our ecosystem, insisting on our own preferences, failing to harmonize with the land and its changes.

Aldo Leopold, the great conservation ecologist, warned that contemporary American life was out of synch with the land. Unsustainable practices do not respond to the unique beauty and integrity of the local environment. Leopold’s famous “land ethic” aims to find harmony with the land.

Harmony is an interesting concept. Musical harmony joins together different tones to make a synchronized and beautiful whole. Harmonizers respond to change in creative, sympathetic and peaceful ways. They don’t insist on their own tone. Rather, they learn to blend by listening and adapting to what’s unfolding around them. Grace, balance and harmony are essential for a happy life.

Harmonious living is a central idea in the Chinese philosophy known as Taoism. Taoist myths explain that Lao-Tzu, the old master of Taoism, despaired of the disharmony of political life and left civilization behind. But before he retreated to the wilderness, he reminded people to be less like rock and more like water: to flow with the world. Taoism links harmony with flowing water. The Tao Te Ching warns that without harmony, valleys dry up and life withers.

This discussion of harmony may sound frivolous in the face of the hard reality of drought. Drought forces tough choices about distributing harms and benefits. Do we need more dams and reservoirs? Should old rivers be restored? What about the fish? What about the farmers? Ask those questions around here and you’re bound to find conflict.

That is part of the problem. We’re in conflict with one another and in conflict with the land. We don’t listen, and we don’t blend.

A Taoist would suggest that toughness and hardness are part of the problem. To adamantly insist on living in a way that is not responsive to the natural world is to miss an opportunity to harmonize.

Green summer lawns, to cite one obvious example, are out of tune with the reality of our dry summer climate. To live harmoniously in California we may have to give up green summer grass. Someone might object, “A lush, green lawn is central to our way of life. And we’ll be poorer without them. Let someone else sacrifice. I want to live how I want to live.” When each party insists, conflict ensues.

We become adamant when asked to reassess our idea of what is needed for a good life. Drought, however, requires a reassessment of priorities. A different way of living would be beautiful in its own way, so long as it harmonizes with the world.

The point is not to advocate asceticism, self-denial and miserable subsistence. Nor should we prioritize fish over farmers or vice versa. The goal is to find a way to prosper while listening and blending. To live well is to live in balance. We forget that because we’ve been taught to insist and resist, to fight and accuse. That discordant approach is typical of our disharmonious political culture. It is the same sort of culture that led Lao-Tzu to despair.

Many prefer strife and struggle. We hammer each other, proudly displaying our resoluteness. But unyielding hardness only produces short-term gains. It does not delve into the difficult process of learning to blend with each other and conform to the land.

In the long run, the weather will change us, despite our resistance — just as water wears away the hardest stone. Human civilization is a tiny pebble in the river of time. Wisdom is learning to listen and harmonize with the changing chords of the natural world.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2014/02/07/3756489/we-must-learn-to-live-in-harmony.html#storylink=cpy