Fighting and Riding the Waves

 

Image generated with the help of ChatGPT (OpenAI)

 

Do we achieve more by fighting the waves or by riding with them? Will our anger make the traffic move any faster? Does shouting opinions at other opinions online truly improve the world?

Some things are within our control, but most are not. How much frustration might we spare ourselves if we recognized where to direct our energies? We want the world to be better, of course. But pouring effort into the things we cannot change will not bring that about.

Perhaps a better approach is to begin each day by reminding ourselves that we will encounter obstacles and people we do not like. Most of these cannot be changed. But we do have power over one thing: our own response. If we choose to respond with calm wisdom, the sting of these events lessens. Others may even be influenced by our example, and in this way, we might quietly contribute to a better world after all.

So tell me, my friend: will you oppose every wave as though the sea itself were your enemy? Or will you seek wisdom to know which to resist and which to ride?

Is this the worst day ever?

 

Remember, my friend, whenever you think you are having the worst day possible, there is usually a way to imagine an even worse day. Perspective might not fix the problem you're currently facing, but it can sometimes help you deal with it in a less catastrophic way.

Why Do I Keep Forgetting What I Already Know?

 

(image by DALL·E - Open AI)

Why do I always forget the things I know? 

When climate deniers post online, I know there’s little point in responding. They’re not open to it. And yet, there I am again, writing lengthy replies, attempting to educate people who have already made their minds up. 

When I get stuck in traffic, I get frustrated and angry, as if this will help. The traffic is beyond my control. But the time I choose to leave home? That IS under my control. So, am I angry with the traffic… or at myself for forgetting this simple truth?

Every day, I feel anxious before teaching. But, in all these years, no harm has come to me in a classroom. Why do I forget this?

Am I cursed to always forget and relearn, like Sisyphus, pushing the boulder up hill, only to watch it roll back down? 

Maybe.

But maybe this is part of being human? 

I wonder… would I have it any other way?

Why Do They Have It So Good?

 

(image by DALL·E - Open AI)

As we struggle through life's challenges, we sometimes look at others with a feeling of envy. That envy can turn to anger. Why do all the bad things happen to me? Why do other people have such good lives? What did I do to deserve this? But, isn't this anger based on a false assumption: that others aren't struggling too?

Even the world's richest man appears unable to buy happiness. As we watch online tirades, arguments with politicians, and manic public displays, we realize that wealth is no guarantee of peace and tranquility. It certainly does not guarantee happiness. 

Not everyone has to worry about where their next meal will come from. But we all crawl through a life of thistle and thorn, relentlessly approaching the same final destination. Realizing that our fellow humans also struggle helps us see them in a different light. Perhaps our envy can turn to empathy. Perhaps our anger can turn to compassion. 

Will this ease our pain? Maybe not. But if we treat each other better, might that be enough?

What's in a name?

 

In the wise city of Christchurch, there is a library named Tūranga. A simple but elegant name, with a connection to local heritage. It means "stopping place". Recently, I encountered a lively debate about the building's name. Some people argued that the word "library" must be included so that everyone would know the building's function. Others argued that the name is fine as it is. In my usual manner, I joined the conversation and offered these words:
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Tell me, friends: when you enter a building filled with books, with people reading, learning, gathering—do you know it is a library only if the word “library” is printed on the wall?

And if a place calls itself by another name—say, Tūranga—yet offers all the treasures of a library, have you been deceived? Or have you simply encountered a name that carries history, spirit, and meaning unfamiliar to you?

I wonder: should every place declare its purpose in plain English? Must every restaurant be called “restaurant,” every museum “museum”? Is The Smithsonian not a museum because the word is missing?

Perhaps we are asking the wrong question. Not “Does it say ‘library’?” but “Does it act as one?” Not “Is the name familiar to me?” but “Am I willing to learn what it means to others?”

There are many ways to name a place. But there is only one way to close our minds—by refusing to ask.

Calm in doing less

 

image generated by DALL·E

The pressures of life can be overwhelming, and often lead to stress and anxiety. But where do these pressures come from? Could it be that we create them ourselves?

We try to squeeze so much into our days. We work hard, take on new hobbies, and feel compelled to say “yes” whenever someone asks us for help. It’s not surprising that we feel stretched and stressed. We don’t even have time to ask ourselves, “does all this activity truly make me happy?”

So, what is the solution? Could it be that by doing less, we gain more—not in quantity, but in clarity and peace? Perhaps we should focus only on what truly matters, and set the rest aside. This may help reduce pressure while also giving us space to do the important things better.

If doing less leads to happiness, why do we ignore this wisdom?