“If you’re drowning, you’re a lousy lifeguard.”
— Seth Godin
__________________
There’s a curious paradox about being human—a missing part of the puzzle, I say.
But find that missing piece, get on the right side of this balance, and you’ll find freedom and certainty in the midst of any storm, drama, emotional uncertainty, or suffering.
First up, though, let’s establish a few assumptions.
You care. You care a lot, and that’s why you’re reading this. You care about living a good life and making a difference in all aspects of your life. You care about your ambitions, adventures and responsibilities, and the people in your life, and you care about being the best you can be for all of that. Most importantly, you care about living well. You want the most out of life, whatever that may bring.
If I’m right in that, here’s an assumption you can choose to embrace that will aid that, and any, mission of yours.
First of all, you do have to have something to live for. You need a reason, a why, a mission—even if you believe that’s a relatively simple, small goal. Moving forward in some way is important to us. Throwing that away never works. You need something to orient around and towards.
To assist us in this, we could assume that there is no guiding principle in life. Life is distinctly neutral. There is no inherent ‘system’. We’re all alone, figuring it out as we go. Sure, we have whatever support network we gather, but there’s no grand plan, no overarching administrator.
There is some truth in this—life will just ‘life’ you. It’s not personal, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything; it’s just life. Shrug your shoulders and carry on.
But this approach is really a good defence mechanism against our tendency to but into the idea that life IS personal, that what happens to us has a reason behind it, and that reason doesn’t like us or want to support us in our goals.
You see—
We are meaning-creating machines. We can’t not be. We tell stories and have narrated our experiences since time immemorial. We project into time; we reminisce, learn from the past, plan for the future.
Part of living a better, more graceful life is telling better stories. One of the biggest stories you are telling yourself is based on this assumption:
“Is this happening to me, or for me?”
‘Happening to me’ is tough.
It feels like an attack, a punishment, an unfair victimisation by life. ‘Happening for me’ makes a world of difference. It suggests you are being guided, taught, shown something bigger—and this holds true regardless of life’s objective ‘nuts and bolts’ reality.
Your subjective story and narrative shape how you feel about events. ‘For me’ means you’re not alone; there is meaning, there is a reason for it all.
And while you may not know the exact specifics of why it’s happening, there is sanctuary in assuming that everything is happening ‘for me’.
Whether this is objectively true or not doesn’t matter. Whether it seems naïve or ‘magical thinking’ is beside the point. The fact is, this assumption acts as a shield against the soul-sapping void of ‘to me’—the belief that you’re being hard done by, or worse: that there’s no plan, no reason, no point. That is an incredibly tough road to travel.
You know the power of appreciation and gratitude, especially when integrated into your daily life. These practices orient you towards what is good and right. They work because they fill your attention with a positive frame of reference. They work because they align you with the choice of ‘for me’, if you follow my meaning.
It’s the classic glass half-full/half-empty choice.
Seeing yourself as being attacked and/or cynicism, nihilism, and feelings of emptiness wear you out so quick, whereas ‘for me’ serves as an inoculation against anything that could bring you down.
So even when something truly terrible happens to you—or, worse, to a loved one—you have something to cling to in the shipwreck: Appreciation and gratitude for the simple, right, and beautiful things; the assumption that it’s happening ‘for me’ for whatever reason (with the possibility that you may one day understand why); as well as the idea that if it’s happening ‘for me’, perhaps it’s happening ‘for them’ too.
In this, you still get to care, but you understand the limits of that care.
You love life, you love those around you, but there are things you simply cannot control. There are experiences we must live through to learn.
Sometimes we learn from the stories of our elders; often, we must learn through painful experience. ‘For me’ doesn’t always look pretty, but sometimes a Zen-slap is the quickest way to stop ending up in a deeper place of suffering.
While our instinct is to protect ourselves and our loved ones, it’s far better to learn to be, and help others become, competent—skilled in facing life’s challenges and dangers.
Here is the paradox I mentioned in the beginning: coming to terms with loving life and being fully involved while not allowing any challenge to disrupt your equilibrium. Loving and supporting others without doing life for them.
This is the ultimate missing piece of the puzzle, the balance I speak of, and perhaps the ‘for me’ reason behind all painful events—to learn to be involved in life and the lives of others, but not overly invested.
It’s one of the greatest lessons I had to learn when I began teaching the Ishayas’ Ascension and found myself being asked to serve as a spiritual adviser: I couldn’t be invested in whether anyone understood, learned, or changed—or even did anything at all. People will do what they will do, regardless of how much I want them to get it.
The road is best walked unconditionally. Be unconditional in life but do not suffer when things inevitably don’t go as planned. Give unconditionally to others but don’t suffer if they do.
Seth Godin was right: you do make a lousy lifeguard if you’re drowning.
It’s a tricky balance—but only because so few have mastered it. Now you know it can be done, and it doesn’t mean you don’t care or that you’re somehow inhuman. It simply is the best way to help yourself and everyone else.
So—
I think these are the greatest lesson tough times have given me and prepared me for all tough times:
Connect with that inner sanctuary of presence, the place where you can stand tall, shelter from life’s storms, apply the greatest leverage to make a real difference, and live fully. Find an attitude to all this that works. Care, but watch when you care too much about the things you cannot control.
Let me know what you find as you apply this in the following days and weeks. I’d love to help out.