The Art of Not Trying – Wu Wei

One of the most significant challenges in modern American life is learning and mastering the art of not trying. We are taught as children and adults that the more we do, the better person we will become. It does not matter if it is more work, more money, more alcohol, more sex, more vacations, or more fun; we must do more.  We are a culture of doing, not being. Our value and status are often directly related to how much we do. And if we think about it, doing it is usually directly connected to how hard we try. If we try harder, we will do more and, therefore, be a better person. When we scrape it all away, it is about doing and trying more and harder. The art of not trying is contrary to this cultural belief system.

In 2002, I moved to Madison, Wisconsin. I was very anxious and excited when spring came after a cold winter to turn a large patch of grass into a garden of vegetables, fruit, and herbs. I felt moved to use a system called lasagna gardening or sheet mulching to do the work for me. I had experience with sheet mulching before and knew it would be the easiest and most effective way to do this without ruining the natural ecosystem.

I remember when I started laying cardboard on top of the layer of compost that was covering the grass. One by one, every one of my neighbors had something funny and sarcastic to say, “No matter how much you water that cardboard, it’s not gonna give you broccoli”, “Here in Wisconsin, we grow vegetables, not cardboard boxes,” or “Is that how you grow vegetables in New Jersey?” Everybody laughed at my expense, and I smiled and played along. By midsummer, when they noticed that I rarely weeded or watered my garden, they started asking questions about sheet mulching. When my garden had the most vitality and growth in the neighborhood, even though it was the first season of growing there for me and many of them had grown for years, one by one, cardboard started finding its way to the gardens, and it was my turn to laugh.

A few years later, some of them abandoned sheet mulching and cardboard. They were just unable to detach from the concept that their presence and work need to be the most essential ingredient in a successful garden. They couldn’t practice the art of not trying. My garden did its own thing with little maintenance or effort from me. A sheet mulching garden is a garden utilizing the art of not trying. This is just one example of how the art of not trying can be an effective and enjoyable method of interacting with life.

The Art of Not Trying – Wu Wei

The School Of Life

 

I would like to know your reactions and thoughts on the following New York Times article: A Meditation on the Art of Not Trying.

 

 

A Meditation on the Art of Not Trying

“Just be yourself.

The advice is as maddening as it is inescapable. It’s the default prescription for any tense situation: a blind date, a speech, a job interview, the first dinner with the potential in-laws. Relax. Act natural. Just be yourself. 

But when you’re nervous, how can you be yourself? How you can force yourself to relax? How can you try not to try?

It makes no sense, but the paradox is essential to civilization, according to Edward Slingerland. He has developed, quite deliberately, a theory of spontaneity based on millenniums of Asian philosophy and decades of research by psychologists and neuroscientists.”

“He calls it the paradox of wu wei, the Chinese term for “effortless action.” Pronounced “ooo-way,” it has similarities to the concept of flow, that state of effortless performance sought by athletes, but it applies to a lot more than sports. Wu wei is integral to romance, religion, politics and commerce. It’s why some leaders have charisma and why business executives insist on a drunken dinner before sealing a deal.

Dr. Slingerland, a professor of Asian studies at the University of British Columbia, argues that the quest for wu wei has been going on ever since humans began living in groups larger than hunter-gathering clans. Unable to rely on the bonds of kinship, the first urban settlements survived by developing shared values, typically through religion, that enabled people to trust one another’s virtue and to cooperate for the common good.”

“According to the rival school of Taoists that arose around the same time as Confucianism, in the fifth century B.C. It was guided by the Tao Te Ching, “The Classic of the Way and Virtue,” which took a direct shot at Confucius: “The worst kind of Virtue never stops striving for Virtue, and so never achieves Virtue.”

Taoists did not strive. Instead of following the rigid training and rituals required by Confucius, they sought to liberate the natural virtue within. They went with the flow. They disdained traditional music in favor of a funkier new style with a beat. They emphasized personal meditation instead of formal scholarship.

Rejecting materialistic ambitions and the technology of their age, they fled to the countryside and practiced a primitive form of agriculture, pulling the plow themselves instead of using oxen. Dr. Slingerland calls them “the original hippies, dropping out, turning on, and stickin’ it to the Man more than 2,000 years before the invention of tie-dye and the Grateful Dead.”

“Psychological science suggests that the ancient Chinese philosophers were genuinely on to something,” says Jonathan Schooler, a psychologist at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “Particularly when one has developed proficiency in an area, it is often better to simply go with the flow. Paralysis through analysis and overthinking are very real pitfalls that the art of wu wei was designed to avoid.”

However wu wei is attained, there’s no debate about the charismatic effect it creates. It conveys an authenticity that makes you attractive, whether you’re addressing a crowd or talking to one person. The way to impress someone on a first date is to not seem too desperate to impress.”

“Getting drunk is essentially an act of mental disarmament,” Dr. Slingerland writes. “In the same way that shaking right hands with someone assures them that you’re not holding a weapon, downing a few tequila shots is like checking your prefrontal cortex at the door. ‘See? No cognitive control. You can trust me.’ ”

But if getting drunk is not an option, what’s the best strategy for wu wei — trying or not trying? Dr. Slingerland recommends a combination. Conscious effort is necessary to learn a skill, and the Confucian emphasis on following rituals is in accord with psychological research showing we have a limited amount of willpower. Training yourself to follow rules automatically can be liberating, because it conserves cognitive energy for other tasks.

But trying can become counterproductive, as the Taoists recognized and psychologists have demonstrated in an experiment with a pendulum. When someone holding the pendulum was instructed to keep it from moving, the effort caused it to move even more.

He likes the compromise approach of Mencius, a Chinese philosopher in the fourth century B.C. who combined the Confucian and Taoist approaches: Try, but not too hard. Mencius told a parable about a grain farmer who returned one evening exhausted from his labors.

“I’ve been out in the fields helping the sprouts grow,” he explained, whereupon his worried sons rushed out to see the results. They found a bunch of shriveled sprouts that he’d yanked to death.

The sprouts were Mencius’ conception of wu wei: Something natural that requires gentle cultivation. You plant the seeds and water the sprouts, but at some point you need to let nature take its course. Just let the sprouts be themselves.”

The Art of Wu-Wei

In our culture, the benefit of not trying too hard—of “going with the flow” or “being in the zone”—has long been appreciated by artists. The jazz great Charlie Parker is said to have advised as­piring musicians, “Don’t play the saxophone. Let it play you.” This same openness is also crucial in acting and other performing arts, which fundamentally rely on spontaneity and seemingly effortless responsiveness. A stand-up comedian who is not in the zone is not funny, and an actor who is not fully inhabiting his or her role comes across as wooden and fake. Explaining how to prepare for a role, the actor Michael Caine cautions that simply memorizing the script and trying to act it out step by step will never work; when it comes time for your line, the only way to bring it off authentically is to not try to remember it. “You must be able to stand there not thinking of that line. You take it off the other actor’s face. He is presumably new-minting the dialogue as if he himself just thought of it by listening and watching, as if it were all new to him, too. Otherwise, for your next line, you’re not listening and not free to respond naturally, to act spontaneously.” Utne Reader

Read more: http://www.utne.com/mind-and-body/the-art-of-wu-wei-ze0z1402zhou.aspx#ixzz3MMPP20Wp

What is your experience with the art of not trying? Have you experienced someone who practices the art of not trying successfully? How does it feel in their presence? Do you think the art of not trying is a realistic concept in Modern American life?

Other posts you may enjoy:

Doubt

Spiritual Change: Tie Your Shoes Different

Spiritual Training on Humility: The Janitor Part I

Why You Don’t Need To Be Right All The Time

Life Lessons Learned from Akeelah and The Bee

25 Signs You’re Succeeding At Life (Even if it doesn’t feel like it)

 

If you are interested in learning more about the art of not trying, I encourage you to contact me.

Michael Swerdloff

Providence Holistic Counselor, Coach and Reiki

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