I like this passage in how it breaks down a fundamental facet of human experience -- that we live with the past and the future, within the present moment. The converging river imagery conveys that beautifully.
As much as the next sincere seeker, I try my best to "live in the present." But I can't help but feel that's a sort of initial, simplistic instruction to follow -- like those rules we learned in math class before we discovered they were just training wheels preparing us for a more complex set of rules. So I value how the author addresses the past and future directly as legitimate streams of thought, rather than simply distractions from the present. (I once got some lovely advice along those lines: "the future is a moment, just as the present; don't be afraid to plan ahead")
And yet, ruminating on the past or future *can* indeed be very distracting from living an engaged life, or as the author says, can induce fear and anxiety. He offers direct approaches for each stream: from the past, learn about yourself; and towards the future, cultivate a feeling of humbleness. Don't you just love that simplicity? :) (not to be confused with simplistic--yet ;))
It's almost scientific in its approach: anything past is already done, so the best you can do with it is learn from it. The future has not happened yet, and nobody can know exactly how it will happen, so rather than make negative (or even positive :)) predictions about it, the best you can do is approach it with a sense of curiosity and humbleness.
That last one seems really important for this time. Predicting future behavior from past experience is part of our frontal-lobe skill sets as human beings, so quite natural. But are we overusing this capacity? Are our predictions becoming straight-jacket prophesies? ​​Our role in climate change, for example. Or my ability to create a fulfilling life for myself, on a more personal level.
I was in a group asking these sorts of questions recently, and one fellow was really struggling with that personal level. He sincerely wanted to change, saw how his opinionating and over-talking was preventing him from connecting with people on a deeper level. And yet, as he was talking about the problems he wanted to change, he was enacting those same problems! Talking quickly and in run-on sentences, explaining from thinking rather than exploring from experiencing ... It was a compassion-eliciting sight.
Then someone mirrored his behavior back to him, confronting him with his fork in the road, of acting out of old behavior patterns, or exploring something new, which was more aligned with his goal. He tried again, but once again started speaking quickly, nervously. Finally, he threw up his arms and declared, "I don't know what to do!" Then the room was quiet. And it turns out that was exactly the first step of his exploration; there was finally an opening to create new pathways of behavior. It was a beautiful moment.
That "I don't know", I think, is the essence of the humbleness Steiner is talking about. Until we throw up our hands and say "I don't know!", are we not just re-enacting old patterns that created the situations we are trying to change? Not knowing can be seen as a kind of weakness, but here Steiner says it's not sentimentality, but reality: "We are not extolling something that might be called humbleness in one sense or another; we are describing a definite form of it—humbleness to whatever the future may bring. Anyone who looks anxiously and fearfully towards the future hinders his development, hampers the free unfolding of his soul-forces."
On May 16, 2012 Chris J. wrote :
As much as the next sincere seeker, I try my best to "live in the present." But I can't help but feel that's a sort of initial, simplistic instruction to follow -- like those rules we learned in math class before we discovered they were just training wheels preparing us for a more complex set of rules. So I value how the author addresses the past and future directly as legitimate streams of thought, rather than simply distractions from the present. (I once got some lovely advice along those lines: "the future is a moment, just as the present; don't be afraid to plan ahead")
And yet, ruminating on the past or future *can* indeed be very distracting from living an engaged life, or as the author says, can induce fear and anxiety. He offers direct approaches for each stream: from the past, learn about yourself; and towards the future, cultivate a feeling of humbleness. Don't you just love that simplicity? :) (not to be confused with simplistic--yet ;))
It's almost scientific in its approach: anything past is already done, so the best you can do with it is learn from it. The future has not happened yet, and nobody can know exactly how it will happen, so rather than make negative (or even positive :)) predictions about it, the best you can do is approach it with a sense of curiosity and humbleness.
That last one seems really important for this time. Predicting future behavior from past experience is part of our frontal-lobe skill sets as human beings, so quite natural. But are we overusing this capacity? Are our predictions becoming straight-jacket prophesies? ​​Our role in climate change, for example. Or my ability to create a fulfilling life for myself, on a more personal level.
I was in a group asking these sorts of questions recently, and one fellow was really struggling with that personal level. He sincerely wanted to change, saw how his opinionating and over-talking was preventing him from connecting with people on a deeper level. And yet, as he was talking about the problems he wanted to change, he was enacting those same problems! Talking quickly and in run-on sentences, explaining from thinking rather than exploring from experiencing ... It was a compassion-eliciting sight.
Then someone mirrored his behavior back to him, confronting him with his fork in the road, of acting out of old behavior patterns, or exploring something new, which was more aligned with his goal. He tried again, but once again started speaking quickly, nervously. Finally, he threw up his arms and declared, "I don't know what to do!" Then the room was quiet. And it turns out that was exactly the first step of his exploration; there was finally an opening to create new pathways of behavior. It was a beautiful moment.
That "I don't know", I think, is the essence of the humbleness Steiner is talking about. Until we throw up our hands and say "I don't know!", are we not just re-enacting old patterns that created the situations we are trying to change? Not knowing can be seen as a kind of weakness, but here Steiner says it's not sentimentality, but reality: "We are not extolling something that might be called humbleness in one sense or another; we are describing a definite form of it—humbleness to whatever the future may bring. Anyone who looks anxiously and fearfully towards the future hinders his development, hampers the free unfolding of his soul-forces."