Good and evil.
What cosmic narcissism. As though we were the center of everything. The classic trope of the good angel on one shoulder and the bad angel on the other with us caught in the cosmic struggle between ultimate good and ultimate evil. Many of us continue to live under the weight of these outsized beliefs.
I suppose this makes us feel important.
While the universe contains extreme temperatures and vast distances, there are no definable poles. Everything we measure is dependent on position. Good and evil, like all else in our universe, are relative to situation and circumstance. Nonetheless, relational binaries abound in our consciousness. They are ingrained in us as good versus evil, left versus right, wonderful versus horrible. We live squeezed between exaggerations, limited by beliefs with scant logic. These binary extremes offer us a comforting sense of place, I suppose.
The problem is when we turn this bolster into solid truth. We make our chosen point solid, subsequently judging everything by an imaginary metric. That point – what we believe is right – becomes a center, by which the rest of the universe must organize around. But just as cosmology grew from the belief that earth was the center of the solar system to an understanding of the inter-dynamics a complex universe, so the Buddhist path leads us from the limited view of our ego, with its opinions and prejudice, at the center of something to understanding how we are a part of everything.
Buddha taught that truth lies between extremes. Or you might say everywhere between extremes. Calling it the “middle way,” the Buddha was turning us toward the idea of being present in life and trusting ourselves to do what is needed in the moment. The Twelve Step traditions refer to “doing the next right thing.” According to the Buddha, the next right thing is specific to the moment and its circumstances. Of course, this is predicated on clarifying our view. The role of meditation and the Eightfold Path is to train the mind to rest in the present, allowing clarity to dawn. That clear seeing disabuses our self-centeredness and allows us to see what is best for all.
The middle way is based on what is actually happening. We can point to the middle way each time we recognize an extreme belief. “This is not right,” we might say. But is that true? Are there opposing points of view? Is there nuance? What is actually happening if we strip away judgment? Then the next right step becomes clear. Buddhist thought suggests that our largest view — the view with the most room for ourselves and everyone else — is to be compassionate, open, and helpful to the world. That’s not dogma. It’s not absolute. It is a recommended direction. Then our provisional binary might become: “Is this next step leading me toward that view, or away from it?” This is a more practical binary because it relates to what we are doing in the moment, not to what everyone else should be doing.
In order to do this, we would do best to loosen our grip on needing to be right. The need to be right is a trap. My music, my movies, my politics, my religion, my point of view — these all feel like truths to me, but they are opinions. My opinions. You may feel differently, but sharing our differences openly, without coercion, is a great way to learn and grow. I don’t have to give up my feeling that the Beatles were the best band in order to remain open to understanding how much you love electronic dance music.
Once we let go of exaggerated extremes, loosen our judgments, and release the need to be right, we can begin to see clearly. But where are we heading? As with everything on the Buddhist path, we come back to the present moment. The next right step is one step. Frequently, this is all we need to do in order to reset. We catch ourselves rushing toward a conclusion, stumble, notice, and come back. Here are my feet on the ground. Here is the next step.
But where are we going?
Each step may lead toward or away from our destination. This is our provisional binary. But each step is not the destination, and the destination may not resemble the next step. We are remarkable beings. We can chew gum and walk at the same time. We can know where we are heading while still paying attention to the steps needed to get there. We can hold the larger view and let go of it enough to be here now. There is no contradiction in that.
However, it is important to remember that the steps are actually happening, while the destination is still unfolding. Or not. We make plans, and the universe laughs. So the destination is not holy. As Peter O’Toole says in Lawrence of Arabia: “Nothing is written.”
That means the path is open. And the warrior is brave enough to face it. In Tibet they say “Pawo,” which means brave. Brave enough not to be right, but wise enough to be accurate. The universe is a vast place. We can map out provisional, imaginary points to guide us, but we do not need the limitation of making them solid. We can stay open, keep our eyes ahead, and feel our feet on the ground.
This is walking the warrior’s path: open, available, holding on as needed to steady ourselves, then letting go, taking the next brave step and being present to support the life that calls us.
