The Doubt of Guiding Others
La duda de guiar a otros
A student asks whether the teacher ever doubts leading people toward something they might lose and never recover, and whether that path is truly right for them.
The Doubt of Guiding Others
A student asks whether the teacher ever doubts leading people toward something they might lose and never recover, and whether that path is truly right for them.
You've been talking about the loss of the thrill, the loss of certain things. I wonder: do you ever feel doubt in guiding us toward this, like we're going to lose something we can never get back? How do you know that's right for us? It's also a question I have for myself. Do I really want this? I don't even know what it is. It sounds actually scary. It feels like a decision.
That's a very valid and important question, and I do contemplate it. I don't have doubt in the sense you might mean. I contemplate it and approach it with a kind of method, which is to speak only to those who ask, and to be as truthful and direct as I can. If you don't like it or aren't interested, you probably won't come back, or the balance of how much it is wanted will adjust itself.
Not presenting it as binary
When I say "direct," I mean that I do talk about the fear and pain involved. I try not to present it in a binary way, which I think a lot of teachers do. Not out of bad intentions; it's just that it's sometimes hard to talk about certain things, and one might take the approach of creating enthusiasm. I know that impulse in myself as well, the desire to inspire and motivate. It's always a balance, more like the art form of speaking.
But I only speak about this to those who ask. By joining this call, I take that as an ask. By asking a question, it becomes more specific. Otherwise, I don't speak of it. If I'm in a spiritual group that hasn't asked me, I don't bring it up.
Only when asked
With relatives or friends, I reserve just the authenticity of saying what I think is relevant for the moment. We just had a lot of family members visit, and I spoke my truth, but only when it was around certain dynamics that I needed to or felt the need to intervene in. I'm not trying to point or guide anybody toward any form of awakening unless they ask. A person could ask me once and not ask again, or they could keep asking, and then it's just the art form of how skillful I am. That's a learning I think has no end.
Reading the room
I often ask people, maybe not so much in this group, because here I take the person as wanting a ten out of ten in the answer. I still have to read where the person is at and sense what the next step might be. But with other people, social connections or family, when they ask, I often say, "How direct do you want me to be, from one to ten? How much truth?" And people will sometimes say half truth. Or six.
I feel like people are going to tend to say ten and not mean it.
Or they have no idea what it actually means. Sometimes they've already been burned by asking me and hearing my ten, because it's often around challenges they're having, situations that are difficult, scary, painful. I also have to read the situation; even if someone asks for the ten, I can sometimes tell it's not a real ten.
Certainty and not-knowing
In that sense, I do have doubts. I don't know how useful I am. In any moment, I don't know what could be best, what could work, or whether I'm erring in one direction or another. There is constant doubt, constant not-knowing. There's never any kind of certainty.
I do have a certainty about what I'm speaking of, in the sense that I have a certainty that I am. And I have a certainty that that's the only thing I know, and that everything else I don't know. I have a certainty that I have no idea what I am, and that I can't have any idea what I am.