'We must judge ourselves by a higher standard than effectiveness, the standard of faithfulness. Are we faithful to the community on which we depend, to doing what we can in response to its pressuring needs? Are we faithful to the better angels of our nature and to what they call forth from us? Are we faithful to the eternal conversation of the human race, to speaking and listening in a way that takes us closer to truth? Are we faithful to the call of courage that summons us to witness to the common good, even against great odds? When faithfulness is our standard, we are more likely to sustain our management with tasks that will never end: doing justice, loving mercy, and calling the beloved community into being.' (Parker Palmer, The Courage to Teach)
The biggest problems and questions that face humanity do not have neat solutions. Life is messy and heartbreaking, and once we accept it as such, the real conversation can begin. A conversation that does not have an agenda to fix and to solve, but one which strives to make true contact, in the knowledge that communion is the only thing that can ease the ache of existence, and that it is through our conversation with life that we cultivate our sense of meaning and belonging. This is what Parker Palmer is pointing towards in the passage above: that our obsession with efficiency deters us from the sweet labours of the heart that most deserve our attention.
Our attempt to ‘get on top of’ our problems - ie. conquer them through the rational mind is itself problematic and even perhaps pathological. What if all our attempts to ‘reason’ with the world are actually attempts to escape the excruciating intimacy of existence by creating distance through the mind? What if instead of trying to make better maps and models of the crisis we need to stop and admit that we’re lost; fall to our knees in despair; let ourselves be humbled; and move forward, only once our hearts have been broken open?
'Tragedy is necessary for us to evolve beyond our current, limited form of “humanity” and begin to take responsibility for all sentient beings in all times… Only broken hearts can save the world.' (Hanzi Freinacht, the Listening Society)
I am not advocating for ‘collapse’ or ‘giving up’, but for the movement towards genuine change, which will not take place in our minds, but in our hearts and souls. For, in order to respond meaningfully to the pain in the world, we have to be willing to let it touch us. And we have to stay with the pain of it, rather than collapsing into cynicism or flying away into idealism. This is what Parker Palmer calls ‘Standing in the Tragic Gap’. He says,
'The tendency, when we’re standing in the tragic gap, is to flip out on one side or the other… On one side of the tragic gap is corrosive cynicism, on the other is irrelevant idealism. Corrosive cynicism and irrelevant idealism look very different, but they both take us out of the action.' (Parker Palmer)
Cynicism and idealism ‘take us out of the action’ because they are reactions to the pain of the world, rather than responses to it. Cynics armour themselves against the aching beauty of the world and the glimmer in their hearts that something else is possible, by dampening their life force and settling for reality in its lowest common denominator. Idealists run away from the pain of the world by creating a smoke and mirrors defence of affirmations and denials. The cynic is weighed down and closed off; the idealist is floating and deflecting; neither are both grounded and open, which means that neither are response-able. Of course the cynic and idealist are in all of us, and we are all prone to flip out on one side or the other regularly. Holding the tension between the two, and finding the third way, requires the patience and steadfastness to sit with discomfort and not grasp too quickly for a solution or position that would resolve it.
In psychosynthesis language, we must ‘identify’ with our suffering in order to ‘disidentify’ from it. In disidentifying from our suffering, we can be with it rather than in it, which means that we are no longer led by it, or by a desire to avoid it. This is free will - action that is not motivated by agenda or compulsion. Our capacity to be with our feeling rather than avoid it determines how free we are to choose, and that free choice determines our capacity for moral courage. While we are entrenched in the survival personality, we are being driven by its needs for control, approval and security, and are unable to be in true conversation with life.
'The purpose of psycho-spiritual psychotherapy is to develop an ethical consciousness in the act of becoming a moral being. Psychological health is dependent on an ethical consciousness. The process involves the ‘repairing’ of one’s history, both personal and cultural; of realising the self as the soul journeys through matter. There it suffers separation and the experience of self betrayal. Beyond the process of repair and individuation is the journey of the ‘Initiate’ where the soul suffers the moral dilemmas inherent in the nature of existence.' (Joan Evans, Institute of Psychosynthesis Training Manual)
As the above quote conveys, the journey of psycho-spiritual development involves the expansion of a person's identity beyond their history and cultural inheritance, and the recontextualization of their sense of self from the details of their biography to the journey of their being. This involves recognising oneself as the subject of one’s life, and acknowledging the
Self-betrayals that have been suffered prior to recognising one’s true identity. In identifying as an initiate - ie. a soul that is in a constant state of transformation or emergence, one starts a different kind of conversation with life, in which one is available to grapple with ‘the moral dilemmas inherent in the nature of existence.’
The key point here is that in order to act morally, I must first be free to choose my actions. And I can only do that once I have disarmed my heart and let the pain of the world touch me. Although this is difficult, it is also very liberating because understanding that suffering is part of the human experience helps me to embrace it as an opportunity for learning, rather than reject it as an aberration. In fact, as my appreciation of what it means to live soulfully deepens, so does my appreciation of the function of suffering - I can see, more and more clearly, how suffering and meaning are intertwined and how we suffer into meaning.
The point is that some suffering is inherent in existence, and shouldn't be pathologised. Instead, we need to learn to live with it, and not in the sense of tolerating it, but of leaning into it and listening to it as a source of truth and wisdom about what it means to be human. Authentic feeling in any form is the best way to release our consciousness and will from captivity in some aspect of our survival personality, which by its very nature is seeking to defend us from suffering. Because at the root of all our fears - of loss, rejection, humiliation etc - is the fear of feeling; of how we will feel when faced with these things. At some level, we believe that we cannot survive such suffering. And at some level, we’re right; often suffering does create a death, but only for the part of us that needs to die in service of the continuation of life.
'Usually, it takes the right kind of trouble to move the little self out of the way so that the deeper self can bring its resources forward. Something inside the soul knows the true aim and purpose of our lives; yet we must become lost in order to find it.' (Michael Meade)
When we are able to zoom out and view an ordeal as a moment on our soul’s journey, it helps us to find meaning and resilience in the face of adversity. Opening up to the bigger picture helps us to make meaning from our suffering - ‘we pathologise because we cannot mythologise’,as Jean Houston says. This is most powerfully expressed by Victor Frankl, whose belief that his suffering in Auschwitz would ultimately have redemptive meaning and serve his greater becoming, saved his life. In his words, ‘those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how’.
Suffering can be alchemised into meaning if we can view it as part of our personal mythology. In this sense, the moment of crisis activates the potential for deep transformation. What’s involved in this transformation is a disidentification from the neurotic security concerns of the survival personality and an identification with the existential concerns of the Self. Ultimately, crises of meaning force us to confront what our being is in service to - the superego that we have inherited from our family and culture, or the call of our wild souls and the transpersonal values they aspire to.
'There is a higher authority which invites our cooperation and, as individuals, our inner quest and the freedom we seek is so that we can make moral decisions and act as moral creatures in line with that authority.' (Joan Evans, ibid)
When the established order comes crashing down, we have an opportunity to connect to ourselves naked and vulnerable, stripped of our narratives, expectations and aspirations. Holding the broader and deeper context of Self trivialises our neurotic fixations and the challenges we are faced with in any given moment. What’s at stake is our liberation - our ability to act in accordance with our authentic values rather than following a script. This is the crux really - that once we have awakened to Self and can feel pull of our higher aspiration, we have the ability to choose how we respond to each moment - will we act in accordance with ‘the better angels of our nature’, or let our fear and shame get the better of us?
Inherent in a soulful life is the willingness to face the suffering that will lead to transformation - for the individual and the collective. And this is what Parker Palmer is referring to in his discussion on faithfulness vs efficiency. It is the little self that seeks the narrow parameters of efficiency and avoids the bigger tasks that will humiliate it over and over again. Only once we have surrendered to Self can we practise faithfulness, which involves bowing down over and over again to the labours of the heart that are demanded of us in a world so full of suffering. This is the basis of moral courage - the choice to do what feels meaningful and true, over what feels easy and comfortable.
So, to be moral I must be in tune with my own suffering, aware of my capacity to create suffering, and motivated to not perpetuate suffering in myself or others. At the same time, I must not be afraid of suffering; I must be willing to experience my suffering and to suffer with others in order to be of service to them. In allowing my suffering I accept my vulnerability. In accepting my vulnerability, I open my heart. In opening my heart, I am able to empathise. In empathising, I am motivated to care. In that caring is a desire to nurture and be of service. This is a very different journey than simply following the rules. And it can only happen if I am willing to drop the safety net of those rules and the parts of me that have adapted to them, and let the world touch me.
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