That’s what it feels like when we least expect it.
In the last post, we touched on where our greatest teachers in life come from. Important to note however, is that once we have opened ourselves to recognizing them, we must open ourselves to what lessons are to be learned from them.
In our effort to make sense of the world around us, we start to automatically categorize everything. We put on neat, clearly defined labels and place them in the corresponding “box” as dictated by our personal filing system, developed over our lifetime.
“Oh, well, so and so was raised in such and such an area by these types of parents, so this is who they are.”
“They listen to this kind of music, so this is how they think.”
“This job calls for scrubbing toilets, so it’s obviously for the uneducated and ignorant.”
“This experience always happens to me when I engage in this activity. I’m going to avoid it, because it will just be the same no matter what I do.”
“These people are so much more outgoing than me. There’s no way I could bring any value.”
Everything being in their place, we now know how to interact with them. We can breathe easier, diminishing the number of potential unknowns, thus lower potential sources of stress or pain. But by doing so, we close our selves to what could be, having already determined the outcome we seek. How are we supposed to progress and evolve when we pre-determine from our limited perspective what we are are going to take away from what the teacher has to offer? The whole point of opening ourselves to the teachers that present themselves is to do the opposite, that we might be stretched, nudged and challenged into expanding beyond where are currently at.
I was reminded of this, earlier this summer, reading a book by Dan Millman called “The Journey of Socrates”. At one point in the story, Socrates (not the Greek philosopher, but rather the name Millman bestowed upon his mentor) is in search of a great master swordsman who was a legend among the Cossacks*. He wanted to learn from the very best in order to fulfill his goal. No one really knew who this master swordsman was however, what he looked like or where he lived. He eventually finds a man that he thinks is the one. An old, secretive, curmudgeonly man. After outright refusal initially, the old man finally agrees to train him. He sets Socrates to menial tasks taking care of things around the cabin. And every chance he gets: WHAACK!! He hits him with his stick. Weeks go by: WHAACK!! Same thing. Nothing else. Until eventually, while Socrates is making dinner, he senses the strike coming from behind and catches it out of mid-air before it hits him. The old man then tells Socrates his training is done. Now he is ready. Confused, Socrates asks what he means. The old man tells him that he doesn’t think he’s the master swordsman Socrates was searching for, but before sending him along his way to find the one he sought, he helped prepare him for such a meeting.
You see, Socrates wanted THE master swordsman. He wanted to find him so badly, that he placed that mantel upon the old swordsman with the stick, with an expectation of what he would learn. He found himself frustrated, confused and angry because what he desired out of the situation didn’t match reality. WHAACK!! Yet, the lesson given was profound. That teacher was exactly the teacher he was meant to find and learn from for that time. Because it opened the door to his next teacher. A teacher that would take him to places he never imagined.
If we open ourselves to the teachers in our lives, we must equally open ourselves to what lessons are being shared. Lessons often outside the “box” of our categorized expectations.
If we do, we open ourselves to propelling our Evolution further.
Dare To Evolve,
Shane.
