Integration, Bravery & How to live

If you want to shrink something, you must first allow it to expand
If you want to get rid of something, you must first allow it to flourish

– Lao Tsu

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I look back on the me of a year ago with her well-worn copies of the Tao Te Ching always close at hand, and I know that I know less about how to live now than she thought she did then. 

That said, the me from a year ago had probably read the lines above a hundred times but still had no clue what they really meant. Just like everything in the Tao Te Ching, the words sure sounded helpful and true, but they weren’t something I could fully wrap my head around until I had the opportunity to live and practice them. Repeatedly. 

The Tao Te Ching is an ancient Chinese text fundamental to Taoism that influenced Buddhism. It translates roughly as “the way of integrity,” and in its 81 verses it delivers guidance on how to live—not so much with the “integrity” of strong moral principles, but with the “integrity” of being a whole and unified person.

I don’t think that me from a year ago would have considered herself a terribly “integrated” person had that term ever crossed or made sense to her 46-year-old mind. But the me from a year ago did complacently believe she’d crafted a bubble life within which to safely weather the turbulent world outside. She’d experienced an average amount of hardship and heartbreak over her 46 years and figured she’d finally crafted a tranquil routine. A routine filled with work- mostly on her own terms. A simple and loving home, a few close friendships, passable family relationships, regular exercise, gardening, meditation, dog walks and plenty of expensive organic produce. And if she spent a little too much time holed up working alone with the occasional glass of wine to numb her vague sense of background unease—well then, that at least seemed to be a sign of the times.

The me from a year ago was, unbeknownst to her, gearing up for an experience that she never could have imagined—a bewildering multi-month long journey through insomnia and related mental and emotional struggle. 

The me of a year ago was on the precipice of what my sweet midwestern grandma would have referred to in a hushed voice as a “nervous breakdown”— and my tough Greek granny would have called “a complete and utter waste of time.” 

She was just about to go through a year when she felt as anxious and weak and vulnerable as she’s ever been… to end up in a place where I now feel as peaceful and resilient and brave as I’ve ever been. 

I can say today that I truly understand these words from Lao Tsu about allowing things to expand before they go away. Like others who’ve followed a similar path through anxiety to peace, I learned that the way through is to face and accept and even embrace the inner discomfort, to stop fighting and avoiding it, and to allow it to run its course. 

I also think I know more about what “integrity” means, and it isn’t about crafting a smug bubble life within which to calmly float along. If I can extend this thinly wrapped metaphor a bit more, I now know that my “bubble” isn’t something out there that I need to keep me safe and stable in a chaotic world, but rather a place inside that’s able to welcome in all the rough storms that come by.

These days, my meditation practice isn’t so much about quieting down my mind as it is about shaking up my bubble brain to see what’s clattering around inside. In particular, I ask myself what I’m avoiding. Then I spend some time with the uncomfortable, background, icky, sticky, looping stuff. I allow these things, as Lau Tsu says, “to flourish.” And, in doing so, they seem to pass a lot more quickly than they used to. I also fear them less. 

In fact, I fear everything less.

Here’s something else I recently heard about integrity that I never would have understood a year ago: 

“I have found that nervously ill people are amongst the bravest people I’ve ever known … when they are better, if they got better the right way, they are really integrated people.” 

This is from an old interview with Dr. Claire Weekes who wrote several books about anxiety treatment and, as Wikipedia tells me, believed that nervous problems were a result of the habit of fear avoidance.

(Habit of fear avoidance. Oof, that sure sounds a lot like my bubble life.)

I never would have thought of myself as brave a year ago. In fact, I may not appear all that brave today. I still lead a fairly comfy bubble life. I haven’t signed up for any life-altering adventurous experiences. I’m a quiet, steady, simple person who knows that she knows less about how to live now than she did a year ago. 

Maybe her life will crack open again and she’ll experience something new that will floor her in a way she never thought would. In fact, if I live more years, I’m sure this will happen. 

But I don’t dread it. 

I’m not going to try hard to avoid it. 

When it happens, if I’m able, I will let it in.

And that, I think, is bravery. That is integration.

Who knows, that also might be all there is to know about how to live.