
My life right now is in constant flux. There seems to be very little that I can count on to remain absolute. With every new experience, I acquire new knowledge that opens up new ways of thinking, or shifts my previously held understandings. Everything I think I know is potentially subject to change. Yet, this is also the period in my life that I am expected to choose a major, and decide on a career for the future. As students, we are required to dedicate our time and money towards the career path that we’ve chosen. This often causes anxiety for me because it feels as though I’m being asked to decide where I am going before I’ve even had a chance to define who I am.
It is a challenge to discover and define the truths about oneself. Dass acknowledges the human impulse to categorize, writing that “frequently, in our efforts to remain secure and protect the integrity of the separate self, we give greater weight to one aspect of our identity over another.”[1] This effect was especially apparent when I was looking at my typology test results. When it came to the sensing and intuition category, I found that it was hard to categorize myself as just one or the other. In some situations, I am comfortable with a sensing learning style. I work well with detailed instructions and straightforward tasks. On the other hand, I also do well with intuitive tasks where I have to think critically and interpret data. These parts of my personality are “‘real’ only in relation to the situation which calls them forth.”[2] I almost felt forced into one category or the other when, in reality, it wasn’t that way at all. By defining myself in those terms, I am adhering to “incomplete and transient”[3] roles. In a sense, I have the potential to play every one of those roles. At my age, I don’t think I necessarily feel “secure”[4] in a “chosen role”[5], but I definitely do feel the tendency to adhere to one single and narrow role at a time. I can only cognitively grasp that narrow definition, but my actual self is much larger than just that. To compensate for this, I am constantly changing what I perceive as my role. However, I find that I often begin to tailor my actions to fit into that role that I’ve created. Ultimately, my conscious thoughts limit myself. Furthermore, with the constant learning and change I’m experiencing, the shifting definitions of my roles will never end. Thus, it makes it completely futile to try to categorize every aspect of myself in terms and words that others have created. By doing that, I would never achieve the agreement between my conscious understanding of myself and my own truths. There would always be a gap between my thoughts and definitions, and my truths.
Dass’ solution to this challenge isn’t very much help at all. He writes about the awareness that lets us “play among these various aspects of being without identifying exclusively with any.”[6] If we can release ourselves from definition and categorization, we can have a more complete view of ourselves. This rejection of boundaries is very similar to the teachings of Daoism. In fact, Dass even quotes a passage from the Tao Te Ching, “‘the truth waits for eyes unclouded by longing’.”[7] The Dao is “the way,” or what we are calling “truths” in this class. One of the main tenants of Daosim is understanding the importance of having awareness of one’s own perceptions, and how those filter how one sees the world. When Dass references the Tao Te Ching, he identifies longing as a human emotion that leads one astray from truth. Daoism teaches that truth exists outside of the human mind. If I consciously think about something, I will inevitably place that thought within the context of my own life and circumstances. Thus, it has been changed, and is no longer pure truth. I’ve always felt uncomfortable when other people give me very generous praise. I can’t say why this is; it just comes from a combination of how I was raised, and what I’m accustomed to. However, I also realize that when other people give praise, they want the recipient to feel good, not guilty and uncomfortable. Of course, this is a very superficial and minute example, but this illustrates how important it is to interpret within your own thoughts, and then trying to reinterpret from a different perspective.
The Tao Te Ching acknowledges this idea by stating that “if one can speak of the Dao, it is not the Dao.”[8] Words and language are a creation of humans, and are innately unable to fully encompass the truth of the world. Personally, I think in words. Especially when I’m trying to grasp abstract or complex concepts, I find that I try to define and describe them with words in my head. The challenge is to somehow to let go of everything I’ve learned, and, as a result, gain a consciousness beyond what I can describe. The only way to achieve this higher awareness is through active inaction. Dass addresses this when he writes that “our thoughts are always happening… as each thought passes, either we attend to it or we don’t. While we can’t stop the thoughts themselves, we can stop our awareness from being snared by each one.”[9] However, this is much easier said than done. Daoists can work for a lifetime trying to achieve active inaction.

At this point, I am still far from discovering any real truths about myself. How does one go about discovering truth when everything has been filtered through their personal perceptions? Herein lays the importance of having nature as a touchstone. Nature can have a very powerful effect on one’s mental state. As Kinkenborg writes in “Without Walls,” “The experience of being in such landscapes is always powerful.”[10] Furthermore, these natural landscapes can “end up evoking a response that runs right to the core of our beings.”[11] Thus, I feel that looking to nature is the first step towards discovering truths about myself. When I think of truth and nature, I don’t think it means that in a natural environment I automatically see with “eyes unclouded.” I am still subject to the same filters and biases as in any other situation. However, I do feel that the power of a natural environment can help put me in a state of mind that facilitates active inaction. In our experiences at various gardens, I’ve noticed that they can fulfill a very deep and primal need in me. They provide a sense of peace and safety. The word garden itself contains the ideas of enclosure and protection. That sense of security can remove many of the mental distractions that come up when one is trying to achieve self awareness.

Based on all of these things, I’ve determined some goals that I need to actively pursue. The first is to make every experience an opportunity to build self awareness. I need to slowly develop a way to see myself from different perspectives in order to discover my truths. In order to do this, I need to actively and critically analyze my own actions. I feel that the best opportunities to do this are in my interactions with other people. In these situations I can view myself through their perspective in order to get a more objective image of myself. If I have a chance to understand how others see me, I can compare that to how I see myself. By doing this I can begin to recognize aspects that others consistently see differently than I do. Of course, none of these views will be completely objective because another individual’s views carry their own personal biases. However, if I actively practice this in all of my interactions, I can use all the different impressions of myself to develop a fairly accurate and objective sense of self awareness.
A second task is to seek out opportunities to immerse myself in nature, or in any physical environment that has a powerful effect on my mental state. It seems strange, but I feel that there are aspects of me as an individual that I don’t even know about yet. When I find myself in new environments, sometimes I discover thoughts and feelings that are completely unexpected and novel. Throughout all of our field trips to gardens natural surroundings, I’ve begun to see something new emerge. Nature has a way of taking me out of the moment, and stripping away my external thoughts and worries. It gives me a chance to slow down, and turn my thoughts inwards. Until now, I’ve never felt a strong impulse to isolate myself in nature. It’s as if my consciousness only encompasses a portion of my whole self. When I immerse myself in different environments, they can bring out pieces of me that I may not have been previously aware of.
Finally, I need to identify individuals that I consider my leaders, and learn from the paths that they took. For example, maybe there are others that went through the same struggles that I am now to find their truths. I just need to always remember that there are generations upon generations of knowledge that I have access to. Odds are that there are countless others that have experienced, and written about, all of the difficulties that I have encountered. When it comes to wisdom and leadership, I feel that they are qualities that every individual must learn for themselves. These are things that can’t necessarily be taught. However, by observing others, I can learn about how they embarked on their own personal pilgrimages, and how each of their experiences developed their leadership skills. This will give me context in which to view my own pilgrimage.
My pilgrimage is, in essence, my entire life. I know that I will never stop growing or learning as an individual. Thus, I don’t think I will ever develop a complete list of my own truths. I may be able to find some truths, but I would never be able to keep up. The only thing I can do is develop a deep understanding of my past, and try to approach my future with clear vision.
Word Count: 1,313 – 120 = 1,193
Words Added: 401
[1] “How Can I Help: Stories and Reflections on Service,” in 19th C. Literature, Architecture, Art, ed. Jerome Bump, 153.
[2] Ibid., 155.
[3] Ibid., 154.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid., 155.
[7] Ibid., 156.
[8] Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching (London: Penguin Books, 1963), 38.
[9] “How Can I Help: Stories and Reflections on Service,” in 19th C. Literature, Architecture, Art, ed. Jerome Bump, 157.
[10] “Without Walls,” in 19th C. Literature, Architecture, Art, ed. Jerome Bump, 639.
[11] Ibid., 639.