Tag: Confucius

  • 5 Ancient Teachings the Modern World Forgets

    I have a teacher-of-the-day problem. A new book comes out, a new voice starts resonating, and I’m in. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But lately I’ve been pulling back toward the older sources, not because the modern writers don’t have something to offer, but because most of what they’re offering the ancient ones already said. Going back to the source puts everything in sharper focus.

    These five things, in particular, have held their weight across centuries.


    The outer world is a poor mirror for your inner one

    Somewhere along the way, most of us started judging our insides by someone else’s outside. We see the perfect family on social media and we measure whatever we’re feeling against that curated image. Or we scroll the endless feed and feel vaguely like we’re missing out on a life that, if we’re honest, isn’t even real.

    Lao Tzu wrote that an excess of light blinds the eye, an excess of noise ruins the ear, that too much of everything deadens the senses. The wise man attends to the inner significance of things and does not concern himself with outward appearances.

    Jesus said the kingdom of God is within you. Buddha said it is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles.

    We have been told this for over two thousand years. And still, most of us are looking for peace somewhere outside ourselves. Jesus called it a narrow gate for a reason. Looking at yourself is hard, looking at others is easy. But the latter slowly kills something in you.

    The practice is simple, even when it isn’t easy: a few minutes of stillness in the morning, a midday pause, a shutdown practice at the end of the day. What am I feeling? What do I actually need? The answers are there. They’re just harder to hear than the noise.


    We think we’re in control

    Controlling others is the major sport of modern life. Whether through force, through subtle pressure, or through the slower erosion of trying to shape someone into what we need them to be.

    Both Jesus and Confucius offered a version of the golden rule, but they came at it from different directions. Jesus said to do to others what you want done to you. Actively show love, actively care, actively listen. Confucius said don’t do to others what you don’t want done to you. Don’t yell if you don’t want to be yelled at, don’t tailgate if you don’t want to be tailgated.

    Together, they form something complete: an active kindness and a practiced restraint. But notice what’s missing from both. Neither of them is about changing anyone else. They’re both entirely about what I am doing, saying, and being. The moment I turn that outward and try to manage what someone else is becoming, I’ve lost the thread.

    A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart… the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.

    Luke 6:45

    All of it starts inside and moves outward. None of it begins with controlling the other person.


    You become what you rehearse

    The Buddha said we are shaped by our thoughts. That we become what we think, and when the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves. Paul, writing to the church in Rome, said the renewing of our minds transforms us.

    I’ve spent time with the concept of cognitive distortions. The things we say to ourselves that have been twisted so far from truth they no longer resemble it. If I say every day I can’t do this, my mind will work efficiently to confirm it. The stories we rehearse become the lives we live.

    The mind is curious. Ask it a question and it goes looking for an answer. How can I do this better? How can I love this person as they actually are? The reframe isn’t magic, but it does something real, it begins the process the teachers were all pointing toward.

    Michael Singer writes in The Untethered Soul that we should learn to become the observer of the voice in our heads rather than its obedient subject. Watch what you’re telling yourself. Then ask better questions. Every answer you genuinely need is already somewhere inside that.


    The nature of things is to change

    Lao Tzu wrote: Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.

    That’s easier to read than to live. Most of us guard our comfort zones carefully, not because they’re especially good but because they’re familiar. We know what to expect. We’ve quietly arranged things so that very little surprises us and we hope nothing significant shifts.

    But Marcus Aurelius observed that the universe loves nothing more than to change the things that are and make new things like them. Change is not an interruption to life. It is life.

    And this matters: every change carries an opening in it. Jobs end and different ones begin. Relationships shift and new depths open. Even the painful changes maybe especially those tend to carry something forward into new territory, if we’re willing to move with them rather than brace against them.

    Resistance doesn’t stop change. It just makes us miserable in the meantime.


    There is only today

    A friend of mine was told not long ago that she has a short time to live. What she says, to anyone who asks, is that she’s staying curious. Curious about what’s coming, and present for what’s here. She didn’t stop living when she heard the news. She chose to keep living today, which is, as it turns out, the only place any of us actually lives.

    Jesus told his disciples not to worry about tomorrow. That today’s trouble is sufficient for today. That sounds almost dismissive until you sit with it. What he’s saying is: you already have enough to attend to. Tomorrow will be what it is. You are here now.

    Seneca wrote that expectation is the greatest impediment to living and that while we are anticipating tomorrow, we lose today.

    Each of us gets a finite number of days, more for some and fewer for others, and none of us knows the count. The question isn’t whether tomorrow is coming. The question is what we’re choosing to do with this particular day, this particular hour, this particular moment.

    That, as it turns out, is the only question any of us ever actually gets to answer.