There’s a part of my mind I call “Plato”. I like to imagine him as an old man feverishly writing in an attic, waiting for the world to recognize his brilliance and reward him. Sometimes I get mad at Plato. “Stop working so hard,” I tell him. “No one‘s coming to reward you.” But the more I criticize Plato, the harder he grinds. Because that’s all he knows.
You probably have a grinding part like Plato too. Maybe it’s not a writer. Maybe you have within you an entrepreneur or athlete or yogi or prom queen who believes that, if you just make more effort — if you just work longer hours or go on that retreat or spend more time at the gym — your life will get better. You may be able to see that this over-efforting part just makes life more difficult. But the more you hate the hard part, the more it tries harder.
You have to love the hard parts. Not just the hard parts of life, but of yourself. These parts aren’t bad or broken. They’re simply carrying hidden agendas you’ve been ashamed to reveal. Perhaps your Inner Entrepreneur secretly hopes his business ideas will earn him love. Perhaps your Inner Yogi secretly hopes her practice will win her acceptance. Nothing is wrong with any of these needs, but because they’re veiled, we communicate to life an unclear message and cannot, in return, receive what we desire.
This is why, in the end, all spiritual and emotional growth comes down to purifying generosity. When you’re giving, you have to learn to give without expecting reward. When you’re writing, just pour yourself into your writing. When you’re working, let there be only the work. And when you do need love or acceptance or money or recognition, ask for these things, simply, without pretense, like the Holy Beggar who stands naked in front of the universe, thoroughly convinced it will all be placed in his paper cup.
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