passion | The Heroic Stoic

NOTE: There are several versions of this story. After researching, I am reasonably confident that the author is unknown (if you think you’ve found one, let me know). I’m sharing this version because of it’s humorous ending. I find it delivers an important lesson in the “wisdom to know the difference” train of thought.

“A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty jar and proceeded to fill it with large stones. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of small pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the large stones. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. Although with less confidence, they agreed it was.

Full or not?

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “Yes.” The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now”, said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The large stones are the important things – your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions – things that, if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else – the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the large stones. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the rubbish. Take care of the large stones first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand”.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that, no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”

There is always room for beer.

My thoughts on this in the next post…but first some “food” for thought (read the caption):

Isn’t there room for cookies, as well?

Passionate Equanimity – this term, found in my creed, I owe to Ken Wilber, or rather his wife Treya. In his book, Grace and Grit: Spirituality and Healing in the Life and Death of Treya Killam Wilber, he details his relationship and journey with his wife, Treya, who discovers she has cancer 10 days after they are married. Five years later, she dies of the cancer. The book reflects on this time with his and her thoughts.

Treya writes in her journal: “What if you had passion without all that stuff, passion without attachment, passion clean and pure? What would that be like, what would that mean? I thought of those moments in meditation when I’ve felt my heart open, a painfully wonderful sensation, a passionate feeling but without clinging to any content or person or thing. And the two words suddenly coupled in my mind and made a whole. Passionate equanimity, passionate equanimity – to be fully passionate about all aspects of life, about one’s relationship with spirit, to care to the depths of one’s being but with no trace of clinging or holding, that’s what the phrase has come to mean to me. It feels full, rounded, complete, and challenging.”

Treya Killam Wilber starts with passion and ends with equanimity. I think many of us do that; we start with passion in our blood, ready to take on the world, to change it, to succeed, to be a champion. Without a doubt, when I was younger I was 99% passion and very little equanimity. Then, as I aged and matured, I started to get some perspective, yeah, some of that equanimity. It took me years and years, and I’m still working on it…on gaining more equanimity. I think we’re all like that: we start with passion first, then maybe we gain the perspective. In the Air Force, we would say “that guy is all thrust, and no vector.” I think most of us have a lot less vector than we think…especially when we are young.

Bungee Jumping…all thrust, no vector?

Before I get too far, I think it is best to describe equanimity further. It is the ability to distance yourself from a situation. It is to be “dispassionate,” unemotional, and rational about a particular situation. I think I will use an analogy here. Think of a bad situation in your life as like a drop of deadly cyanide. A drop of cyanide is enough to kill a person quickly and cleanly. However, if I took that drop and placed it in the ocean, it would disperse quite quickly. Would it kill any fish, or swimmers? Very unlikely…even more so as time goes by and the drop becomes mixed in with the sea. So, if the situation is that drop of cyanide, then the ocean is equanimity. Equanimity helps us dilute that poison in our life and gain some tranquility about a situation. In a sense, it is the opposite of passion! That’s what makes “passionate equanimity” such an intriguing concept.

Unlike Treya Killam Wilber and myself, who started with passion then found equanimity, Stoicism starts with equanimity (well, the Stoics might call it tranquility). With our logic and our values, and with acceptance that so much is out of our control, we can gain perspective, which in turn gives us equanimity. Further, the Stoic accepts that tragedy will befall us, because it is our fate. If we can dispassionately accept the impermanence of the world around us, then we can have some perspective. Once I have a large measure of equanimity, I have a better understanding of my situation juxtaposed with my own values, then I can better cultivate a passion for what I set out to do.

I think it works better to start with equanimity, and only then be passionate about our calling. I think that this works better because when we rationally observe our lot in life or our current situation, we can make a better choice about what to be passionate about. I am a living example of this: I was passionate about my job as an AF pilot and officer, but I think I would have been happier if I had examined what my job was really about: killing for a government, rather than defending “freedom.” In a sense, I think I lacked the big picture of what my values should be because I did not reflect enough before I acted. I committed to something without fully understanding it, and thus I was dissatisfied with what I was doing. Possibly, I just didn’t have enough information. In any case, gaining equanimity helped me vector my passions in a different direction.

USAF F-4: Loads of Passion with little Equanimity

I suppose it is inevitable that we lack equanimity in our youth, and in fact, some never get it. As you read, I hope this helps you gain some equanimity. Again, I throw a little seed your way….I hope it helps you.