Devdas Menon
(Text of an
article that appeared in the December 2005 edition
of the IIT Madras magazine Reflections)
Consider a big
tree with a stout stem, and standing next to it, a
slender longish blade of grass. Which of the two is
more likely to survive a severe storm? The students
attending a class on Structural Analysis try to visualise
the scenario, and soon come up with the right answer.
The blade of grass, of course. The next logical
question Why so? takes a while and some discussion,
before the answer emerges. Because the tree is
relatively rigid and the blade of grass flexible.
The rigid tree refuses to bend easily, and this resistance
introduces stresses, which keep building up as the
wind load increases. The tree’s resisting capacity
has a limit, of course, and a severe storm can knock
the tree down. The blade of grass, on the other hand,
gives way from the very start, bending over backwards,
and so hardly offering any resistance to the load.
When the storm gets over, it bounces back to its original
configuration. Interesting behaviour, especially when
one begins to realise that this phenomenon also applies
in many situations to human beings.
The students
are quick to grasp this, and our discussion then moves
on to explore: What is ideal: to be rigid or to
be flexible? There is much debate, and perhaps
there is a sense of unease in discovering that there
are no absolute ‘right’ answers to this
one. We find ourselves in noble company, of course,
when we note that even brave warriors like the legendary
Arjuna had serious problems on this very question,
and that too in the middle of a battlefield. We humans
mostly like to have security and certainty in our
lives, and it is disconcerting when we find ourselves
confused. Many of us look for authorities and dogmas
to tell us what to do, and even when clear-cut instructions
are available (which is not always the case), we often
end up doing the ‘wrong’ things, driven
by our own unconscious tendencies. We are then beset
with doubts and feelings of guilt after the deed is
done.
God, grant
me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom
to know the difference is the beautiful ‘serenity
prayer’ that expresses this sentiment. The emphasis
in this prayer is, interestingly, on serenity,
acceptance and courageousness. There
is no mention of resistance.
But it is resistance
that is our second nature! We tend to resist almost
everything that does not conform to our likes and
beliefs. When people ‘misbehave’ or things
that we dislike happen, we find inner resistance building
up. We are like the big tree. This inner resistance
may be expressed outwardly or may be suppressed, depending
on our habitual inclinations. Either way, our reactivity
takes away our serenity and makes life difficult not
only for us but also others around us.
Invariably, we believe
that the cause lies outside us and our reactivity
is an effect that is ‘natural’ and hence
justifiable. There is a habitual pattern to this cause-and-effect
behaviour, which we can discover if we allow ourselves
to look inwards with detachment. We then notice a
set of resistance patterns in us. These patterns seem
to suggest that cause and effect are perhaps inextricably
linked to each other. It is as though, because of
our innate resistance, we attract magnetically certain
kinds of ‘loads’, which in turn induce
‘stresses’ that in turn serve to strengthen
our resistance and our beliefs about the external
cause, in a seemingly endless cycle.
The mere witnessing
of this process — which means making conscious
our unconscious behaviour patterns — can help
us break out of this vicious cycle. Instead of running
on ‘automatic’, which is all-too-common,
we discover a whole range of creative possibilities
of dealing with every situation in life. Of course,
the difficult thing is to allow witnessing,
but this can be discovered through meditative practice
and continued self-awareness. First, we must learn
to find serenity in the absence of any storm, in our
day-to-day living. Then, we can discover ways of dealing
with the small storms, and then with big ones. Most
of the storms lose their power to hurt us when we
realise that they are imaginary. It is often like
pricking an inflated balloon.
There is much to
learn from the little blade of grass. Insignificant
in comparison to the mighty tree, it is the blade
of grass, acting without resistance that survives
the severe storm.
