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.
