Working within the grain

Every year there are a few periods of time that tend to cut against my personal grain. My generic style is one of being purposeful and I thrive on results generated by authentic action. I like being productive, efficient and targeted. “Management by objective” and “mission-driven operations” are concepts that typically resonate with me and thus I am most comfortable when I am in action mode. In the face of this momentum, there are always a few weeks where it seems to me that I have to wait for the world to catch up with me. However much I may want to rationalize it in the moment as “lag time”, my deeper understanding is profoundly different.

The weeks in the middle of September present a prime example. For eons, Northern Europeans faced a time after the harvest of the grains and grasses was complete and before the winter crops (pumpkins and other gourds) had come in. This window of time of forced inactivity was very different from the time in the dead of winter because there was still ample daylight and good weather. The people’s energy was still up and they wanted to work, but there was little constructive work that could be accomplished.

In contrast, the dead of winter was cold, dark and often blanketed in deep snow and therefore, the energy and focus of humans turned naturally inward. It seems to me that the contrast between the energetic archetypes of these two periods still holds true to this day.

In my human-centered worldview (we’ll get to a more spiritually-centered view in a moment), I have two very distinct choices in how to respond to these nearly universal “lull periods": One of my options is to keep busy with “make work” and the other is to impatiently wait out the inactivity. You may have your own set of tactics for dealing with this phenomenon, and while they may differ in details, I suspect that the underlying issues are the same.

I believe that being busy is not the same as being productive. My core value about being productive means for me that I want to be effective with the time and energy I invest. Hence, making work simply to keep busy does not align with my values and so in the past I have leaned to the second tactic-impatience.

During a brief downtime in the past I would stew, and squirm and, in an irritated way, wrestle with waiting. It was unbearable. For example, when I was a senior in college, I had an entry-level career job in sales lined up when I graduated. I found out the company that had hired me had two training groups over the summer-an early group and a later group. (Depending on when each employee’s graduation was scheduled new hires were assigned to one of the two groups.) I made arrangements to finish up my college classes early, take my exams early, turn in papers early -- all so that I could start work sooner and be in the first pod of trainees.

At the end of the summer, it turned out that the management was going to wait to assign any of us to territories until the second pod completed their training. I almost quit the job rather than wait through a couple of weeks of enforced downtime before being assigned my sales territory.

Fortunately, as I mentioned earlier, there is a more spiritually sound third available choice. In this time of “in between”, I can choose to more fully experience patience and surrender, not just as abstract intellectual concepts, but as practice. Unsurprisingly, this is more difficult for me than either of the first two options.

Here are a few things I have learned in adopting this practice: The Tao distinguishes between yin (receptive) and yang (proactive) energy, each necessary to the other. Thus, rather than take that restless energy swirling inside me and find some “busy work” or wait impatiently for some meaningful life errands to do, I embrace my restlessness and sense what it feels like to be patient. I would like to be calm, serene and still during these times that seem to call for a yin response, but I am often pulled toward feeling anxious and out of sorts. I know intellectually that it would be good for me to be more balanced, and in order to get to a more balanced energy, I need to be at peace with idle periods. The only way to constructively accomplish this, is to see the value in not being busy (which is not so hard for me to do) and see the value in not being productive, (which is very hard for me to do/be) and learn to embrace the stillness.

There is a part of me that overvalues “doing” and undervalues “being”. The way to integrate and harmonize these two is to “be” still, and to “be” at peace with the experience of stillness. In other words, I need to get comfortable with being “unproductive” in the way that I have understood productivity up until now. This requires self acceptance, and the willingness to trust the larger rhythms at work in my life. I can learn to be accomplished at waiting, learn to let go of the egoic sense of urgency that tells me that every moment must be productive. I can have first-hand experience with healing impatience which, at a minimum, will help me be compassionate with other driven persons with whom I interact.

Moreover, on a more subtle level, taking time to “be” is actually far more productive in the long run than constantly doing, doing, doing. For me, learning the art of patience is sometimes excruciating, however the anxiety I now feel, in this period between harvests (between projects), is only a small vestige of the irritability I used to feel during periods of enforced downtime. Sometimes intermediate steps are a sign of good progress on the spiritual path. In those times when I cannot fully embrace the stillness, I have found that there are some constructive things that I can do that are purposeful, centering and aligned with both my values and my desire to be peaceful in lull periods. Writing this is both productive and somewhat meditative. Going for a walk is a good way for me to disperse some of the pent-up energy I feel during these periods of restlessness without getting caught up in working. Investing in some reading can be useful when I face a lot of open hours. These are not “make work” projects and so there is some blessing in them.

To some extent, these steps may look like they only address the symptoms and not the root of the issue. And yet, progress is progress and if the issue is driven behavior, then moderation is a sign of healing. Now that I am aware of the benefit of aligning my inner rhythm with outer events, I can notice my reactions in these slow times. I can begin living life on life’s terms rather than on my terms. I can trust that it is good for me to have periods of low activity so that I can practice patience. My heart tells me that I can be calm and serene as life unfolds as part of a larger rhythm that includes all around me. This is a much more joyous way to live.