Choose to Improve

[D]own through the centuries, man has developed a mind that separates him from the world of reality, the world of natural laws. This mind tries too hard, wears itself out, and ends up weak and sloppy. Such a mind, even if of high intelligence, is inefficient. It goes here and there, backwards and forwards, and fails to concentrate on what it's doing at the moment. It drives down the street in a fast-moving car and thinks it's at the store, going over a grocery list. Then it wonders why accidents occur.  (B.Hoff, The Tao of Pooh, pp. 77-78).

A couple of weeks ago, I took the vacation I’ve needed to take for a while, hence my lapse in posting to this blog. With a friend, I rented a small, but comfortable cottage on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay with a beautiful view of that estuary. If you live in its watershed and you do environmental work as I do, you have some image of it in the back of your mind always as a source of meaning for your work. I harken back to my youth and days spent swimming and fishing with my cousins on the Susquehanna Flats, where the Susquehanna River meets the Bay in Harford County, Maryland, where I grew up.

But on this brief respite away, I was much further downstream in the small town of Deale, Maryland, twenty miles south of Annapolis. Here one sees the Bay as the vestibule to the Port of Baltimore for large container ships, many of them carrying foreign automobiles (soon to have the daylights “tariffed” out of them). With its ready access to the Bay, Deale is also well known as a fishing town for both commercial and recreational anglers. In the worst weather, working boats leave the harbor, plodding wave-over-wave to the fishing grounds and return much as they left, leaving us wondering whether the trek was worth the effort.

After taking a daily walk during my stay, I also concluded that many of Deale’s inhabitants are “weekenders.” I’m thinking they come for the peace, quiet and tranquility of this small, humble place, which is a great segue into the subject of this post, “Life Lessons on Happiness & Productivity from an Unlikely Source.”

1. The Venerable tree Pruner

As I bounced around between college and graduate school in the 1980s, waiting tables and tending bar, a new friend shared a book she was reading, The Tao of Pooh. In it, the author, Benjamin Hoff, uses stories from A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner to explain the basics of the philosophy of Taoism.

The thing that grabbed me about the book initially was not so much the stories of Winnie the Pooh or the philosophy of Taoism but the author’s biography. When he wrote the book in 1982, Benjamin Hoff was a young person who had completed a college degree and earned a living in what was then a non-traditional way for someone with that background:  he pruned trees. (Where would that have fallen on any parent’s continuum of successful outcomes for a kid, with a good job after college being one where you earned a salary with benefits and a bad one being something along the lines of what I was doing?)

But soon I learned that there was probably a lot more to the tree pruning than I initially appreciated, for, in its essence, this is a book about simplicity and the window to happiness that it offers. I’ve given countless copies of it away over the years, typically the latest copy that happens to be on the shelf in the office I keep in my house. Fortunately, on a recent trip to Maryland’s Eastern Shore with my husband, I re-supplied my library with a used copy from the Unicorn Bookshop near Easton. For this simple retreat to Deale with a friend, I made a goal of taking and re-reading The Tao of Pooh.

2. Have I become a “BISY BACKSON?” Have You?

Like many of you, I suspect, I feel life, in the form of many professional and familial responsibilities, pulling me in a thousand directions incessantly. No amount of planning prowess, productivity genius, or the maturity that comes with gray hair and experience can sometimes quell the inner discontent with the status quo. Have I become what Hoff calls a “BISY BACKSON?”  Have you?

The title is derived from a Pooh story wherein Pooh and Rabbit arrive at the home of Christopher Robin to pay him a visit only to find him gone, having left a note that reads:

GON OUT

BACKSON

BISY

BACKSON.

C.R.

Hoff explains what happens next as follows:

Rabbit didn’t know what a BACKSON was – in spite of the fact that he is one – so he went to ask Owl. Owl didn’t know, either. But we think we know, and we think a lot of other people do, too. Chuang-tse described one quite accurately:

There was a man who disliked seeing his footprints and his shadow. He decided to escape from them, and began to run. But as he ran along, more footprints appeared, while his shadow easily kept up with him. Thinking he was going too slowly, he ran faster and faster without stopping, until he finally collapsed from exhaustion and died. If he had stood still, there would have been no footprints. If he had rested in the shade, his shadow would have disappeared. (Hoff, pp. 92-93).

The problem with all of this is that the BISY BACKSON is never paying attention to the here and now or to himself: “The BISY BACKSON is always going somewhere, somewhere he hasn’t been. Anywhere but where he is.” (Hoff, p. 97). “The BISY BACKSON always seems to have to be going somewhere, at least on a superficial, physical level. He doesn’t go out for a walk, though; he doesn’t have time.” (Hoff, p. 97)

According to Hoff, “The BISY BACKSON has practically no time at all, because he’s too busy wasting it to save it. And by trying to save every bit of it, he ends up wasting the whole thing.” (Hoff, p. 108). “Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be starved before we are hungry. Men say that a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take a thousand stitches to-day to save nine tomorrow.” (Hoff, p. 108, Quoting Henry David Thoreau, Walden).

3. Besting the BISY BACKSON: Life lessons on happiness & Productivity

Hoff’s first admonition for BISY BACKSONS is to stop thinking so much and pay attention, i.e., be sensitive to our intuition and to the circumstances in which we find ourselves:

[D]own through the centuries, man has developed a mind that separates him from the world of reality, the world of natural laws. This mind tries too hard, wears itself out, and ends up weak and sloppy. Such a mind, even if of high intelligence, is inefficient. It goes here and there, backwards and forwards, and fails to concentrate on what it's doing at the moment. It drives down the street in a fast-moving car and thinks it's at the store, going over a grocery list. Then it wonders why accidents occur.  (Hoff, pp. 77-78).

Instead of overthinking everything, we should, instead, be concentrating on understanding our true inner nature and paying attention to and acting in accordance with the natural order of things around us.  It is to an examination of these ideas that we now turn.

A. Understanding ourselves

(1) The Uncarved Block

Inherent in the task of understanding ourselves is appreciating “the Uncarved Block.”  Simply translated, “the Uncarved Block” means a thing in its natural state. The idea is that when we strip away unnatural things like pretentiousness, arrogance, complexity and the like, we will experience “that simple, childlike, and mysterious secret known to those of the Uncarved Block: Life is Fun.” (Hoff, p. 20). And it’s fun because when we are released from the bonds of things that mask our true nature, we see the world clearly and gain “the ability to do things spontaneously and have them work, odd as that may appear to others at times.”(Hoff, p. 21).

To illustrate the principal, Hoff offers this passage direct from the A.A. Milne text:

Now one autumn morning when the wind had blown all the leaves off the trees in the night, and was trying to blow the branches off, Pooh and Piglet were sitting in the Thoughtful Spot and wondering.

“What I think, “ said Pooh, “is I think we’ll go to Pooh Corner and see Eeyore, because perhaps his house has been blown down, and perhaps he’d like us to build it again.”

“What I think,” said Piglet, “is I think we’ll go and see Christopher Robin, only he won’t be there, so we can’t.”

“Let’s go and see everybody,” said Pooh. “Because when you’ve been walking in the wind for miles ,and you suddenly go into somebody’s house, and he says, ‘Hallo, Pooh, you’re just in time for a little smackerel of something, ‘ and you are, then it’s what I call a Friendly Day.”

Piglet thought that they ought to have a Reason for going to see everybody, like Looking for Small or Organizing an Expotition, if Pooh could think of something.

Pooh could.

“We’ll go because it’s Thursday,” he said, “and we’ll go to wish everybody a Very Happy Thursday. Come on Piglet.” (Hoff, pp. 20-21).

Hoff later notes that “[w]hile the clear mind listens to a bird singing, the Stuffed-Full-of-Knowledge-and-Cleverness mind wonders what kind of bird is singing.” (Hoff, p. 146).  While Rabbit, Owl and Eeyore are trying to have an intellectual conversation about ornithology, Pooh is enjoying the cacophony of the song and ends up the true hero of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner as a result.

As Hoff illustrates, it’s not the clever, abstract-thinking, overstuffed mind that’s responsible when things work out. It’s the mind that sees what’s in front of it and follows the nature of things because it hears through its own ears and sees through its own eyes.

 

(2) Inner Nature

It’s not enough to rid our minds of the things that keep us from seeing clearly if we want to understand ourselves.  We must also understand the principles of Inner Nature.

"Inner Nature, when relied on, cannot be fooled. But many people do not look at it or listen to it, and consequently do not understand themselves very much.” (Hoff, p. 57).  Hoff illustrates the principles of Inner Nature through various verses of a Pooh song known as “Cottleston Pie.” It goes like this:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,”

Why does a chicken, I don’t know why.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

(Hoff, p. 39).

A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly stands for the idea that things are as they are:

"Everything has its own place and function. That applies to people, although many don't seem to realize it, stuck as they are in the wrong job, the wrong marriage, or the wrong house. When you know and respect your own Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don't belong. One man's food is often another man's poison, and what is glamorous and exciting to some can be a dangerous trap to others." (Hoff, pp. 40-41).

To illustrate the principle, Hoff offers another story from the writings of Chuang-tse:

While sitting on the banks of the P’u River, Chuang-tse was approached by two representatives of the Prince of Ch’u, who offered him a position at court. Chuang-tse watched the water flowing by as if he had not heard. Finally, he remarked “I am told that the Prince has a sacred tortoise, over two thousand years old, which is kept in a box, wrapped in silk and brocade.” “That is true,” the officials replied. “If the tortoise had been given a choice,” Chuang-tse continued, “which do you think he would have liked better – to have been alive in the mud or dead within the palace?” “To have been alive in the mud, of course,” the men answered. “I too prefer the mud,” said Chuang-tse. “Good-bye.” (Hoff, p. 41).

“A fish can’t whistle and neither can I,” stands for the importance of understanding one’s limitations:

There’s nothing wrong with not being able to whistle, especially if you’re a fish.  But there can be lots of things wrong with blindly trying to do what you aren’t designed for. Fish don’t live in trees, and birds don’t spend too much time underwater if they can help it. Unfortunately, some people – who always seem to think they’re smarter than fish and birds, somehow – aren’t so wise, and end up causing big trouble for themselves and others …. That doesn’t mean that we need to stop changing and improving. It just means that we need to recognize what’s there. (Hoff, p. 43).

“Why does a chicken, I don’t know why,” references the idea that pontificating answers to abstract questions too often gets in the way of more productive pursuits and can lead to trouble.  To illustrate the idea, Hoff relays the tale of Pooh and Piglet trying to catch a “Heffalump.” Christopher Robin is sure he had seen one, which leads Pooh and Piglet to offer that they believed they had seen one, too.  They decide they are going to try to trap one by digging a hole. They conjure up a scheme for a successful capture based on what they think a Heffalump likes to eat and where they think Heffalumps live.  This adventure goes awry, of course, with Pooh falling into the hole and getting his head stuck inside the jar of honey that was supposed to lure the prey into the trap.  Hoff chides, “We didn’t think that it really matched the nature of Heffalumps, somehow.” (Hoff p. 56). He later adds:

Knowledge and Cleverness tend to concern themselves with the wrong sorts of things, and a mind confused by Knowledge, Cleverness, and Abstract Ideas tends to go chasing off after things that don’t matter, or that don’t even exist, instead of seeing, appreciating, and making use of what is right in front of it. (Hoff, p. 147).

It’s a theme that I’ve come across in other writings. Theodore Roosevelt once said that one’s duty in life was to “do what you can, with what you’ve got, where you are.” In the more recent words of actress Jane Lynch, “The world, the universe, God, whatever you call it, has so much more in store if you just sit back and relax and do what’s right in front of you.” (T. Anderson, Comical 'Love Fest').

B. Paying Attention to Natural Laws

Once we clear our minds and heed our Inner Natures, we are better able to attend to natural laws. Hoff frequently refers to Lao-tse, author of the oldest book on Taoist philosophy, who counseled that the more man interfered with the natural balance produced and governed by universal laws, the further away harmony retreated into the distance:

The more forcing, the more trouble. Whether heavy or light, wet or dry, fast or slow, everything had its own nature already within it, which could not be violated without causing difficulties. When abstract and arbitrary rules were imposed from the outside, struggle was inevitable. Only then did life become sour. (Hoff, p. 4).

This idea of “going with the flow” of nature is embodied in the principle of “Wu Wei,” which literally means “without doing, causing or making.” Its practical application means doing things without meddlesome, combative, or egotistical effort:  “The efficiency of Wu Wei is like that of water flowing over and around the rocks in its path – not the mechanical, straight-line approach that usually ends up short-circuiting natural laws, but one that evolves from an inner sensitivity to the natural rhythm of things.” (Hoff, p. 68).

To illustrate the principle, Hoff draws on another example from the writings of Chuang-tse:

At the Gorge of Lu, the great waterfall plunges for thousands of feet, its spray visible for miles. In the churning waters below, no living creature can be seen.

One day, K'ung Fu-tse was standing at a distance from the pool's edge, when he saw an old man being tossed about in the turbulent water. He called to his disciples, and together they ran to rescue the victim. But by the time they reached the water, the old man had climbed out onto the bank and was walking along, singing to himself.

K’ung Fu-tse hurried up to him. "You would have to be a ghost to survive that," he said, " but you seem to be a man, instead. What secret power do you have?"

"Nothing special," the old man replied. "I began to learn while very young, and grew up practicing it. Now I am certain of success. I go down with the water and come up with the water. I follow it and forget myself. I survive because I don't struggle against the water's superior power. That's all." (Hoff, pp. 68-69).

Bringing the action back to Winnie the Pooh, Hoff recites a story wherein Piglet has two jars of pickles that he can’t open and asks Pooh for help.  Pooh easily opens the first jar and when asked how he did it, responds as follows: “It’s easy,” said Pooh. “You just twist on it like this until you can’t twist any harder. Then you take a deep breath and, as you let it out, twist. That’s all.” (Hoff, p. 76).

Jealously watching the stunt is Tigger, who is now determined to open the second jar:

“Let me try that!” yelled Tigger, bouncing into the kitchen. “Where’s that new jar of pickles? Ah, here it is.”

“Tigger,” began Piglet nervously, “ I don’t think you’d better ---“

“Nothing to it,” said Tigger. “Just twist, and ---"

CRASH! …

“Slipped out of my paw, “ explained Tigger.

“He tried too hard,” said Pooh.

(Hoff, p. 76).

Hoff sums up the meaning of the story as follows:

When you work with Wu Wei, you put the round peg in the round hole and the square peg in the square hole. No stress, no struggle. Egotistical Desire tries to force the round peg into the square hole and the square peg into the round hole. Cleverness tries to devise craftier ways of making pegs fit where they don't belong. Knowledge tries to figure out why round pegs fit round holes, but not square holes. Wu Wei doesn't try. It doesn't think about it. It just does it. And when it does, it doesn't appear to do much of anything. But Things Get Done. (Hoff, p. 75).

The Chinese call this “Wei Wu Wei” – Do without Doing.

4. Life lessons on happiness & productivity: the bottom line

Adopting the foregoing principles results in our being able to achieve more with less effort:  “When we learn to work with our own Inner Nature, and with the natural laws operating around us, we reach the level of Wu Wei. Then we work with the natural order of things and operate on the principle of minimal effort.” (Hoff, pp. 68-69).

Hoff concludes that:

Within each of us there is an Owl, a Rabbit, an Eeyore, and a Pooh. For too long, we have chosen the way of Owl and Rabbit. Now, like Eeyore, we complain about the results. But that accomplishes nothing. If we are smart, we will choose the way of Pooh. As if from far away, it calls to us with the voice of a child’s mind. It may be hard to hear at times, but it is important just the same, because without it, we will never find our way through the Forest. (Hoff, p. 155).

At just 158 pages, the book is a short read that is long on wisdom, a perfect companion wherever you choose to relax and rejuvenate your spirit this summer.  Pick up a copy on my Resources Page or by clicking here.

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Resources

T. Anderson. "Comical 'Love Fest' Set to Music." The Baltimore Sun, May 3, 2015, p. 25

B.Hoff. The Tao of Pooh (New York, NY: E.P. Dutton, Inc.)(1982)