Practical Taoism : The Need To Win

Love Birds (Chinese Painting)

The Need to Win (Chuang Tzu, Taoist Philosopher circa 250 BC)

When an archer is shooting for nothing
He has all his skill.
If he shoots for a brass trinket
He is already nervous.
If he shoots for a prize of gold
He goes blind
Or sees two targets –
He goes out of his mind!

His skill has not diminished but the prize
Divides him. He worries.
He dreams more of winning
Than of shooting –
And the need to win
Drains him of power.

I think we all have experienced this at one time or another. We possess a natural skill that when alone, let’s say, we perform flawlessly and without any visible effort, but once this talent becomes a matter of public display or is used for profit, the worries over acceptance and reward cloud the purity of the action, and we fail because of it. If we lose the natural enjoyment of what it is that we are good at, then our talents become muddled and out of synch.

I felt this first hand upon re-entering the family business as an adult, where my one-time hobby became an additional and much needed source of revenue. I remember making very simple and well-crafted gifts for friends and relatives without any effort or worry at all. It was ALL me. Yet, when it came time to fill a storefront window with my work, I was very reluctant to do it, AND what few pieces I did produce were not (in my estimation) of the same caliber, even though the same set of hands created them.

Why did I all of the sudden come into this psychological divide between natural talent and forced effort? What was it that made me worry so much? With a gift, one does not fear rejection, but try to sell that same item and the specter of your product appearing inadequate or uninteresting begins to loom over your effort. Your investment is no longer in the love of the being and doing, but in the attachment to the rewards of doing it. After all, you have to at least recoup your investment. I was creating to sell, not creating to create.

How did I fix the problem? Here I was with all of this time and material available to me and my psychology did not permit me to use it! Argh! On one hand, doing all of my building when time allowed was wise, because I would be filling wasted time with something useful. On the other hand, the product of that time wouldn’t have the heart I believed it should possess. I just couldn’t get past my own psychology.

The solution came in a very basic business-like way, in a rare conjoining of salesmanship and fiscal common sense. If I only made pieces when customers ordered them, then each piece would still maintain its uniqueness. By taking a deposit to cover the cost of materials, it would not ever matter if the customer ever picked up the item from me, since I could still possibly resell it or bequeath it to a friend or relative at the next occasion. I did not have to worry about selling it because it was already sold! The worry was 95% gone, and I was able to put myself back into the work with the natural ease that I enjoy.

What’s wrong with worry, you might ask? Worry makes you think and do too much, which brings us to another Taoist saying from the legendary Lao Tzu (circa 500 BC).

Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife and the blade will dull.
Chase after money and security and your heart will never be open.
Care about people’s approval and you will become their prisoner.

Do your work and step back.
It is the only way to Serenity.

The worry I am referring to is not the normal conscientiousness that a retailer or manufacturer should have when dealing with the public. I am talking about OVER-WORRY. The kind that creates doubts where no doubt should exist. It’s kind of like when you have your first child, and after you bring the baby home from the hospital, you sneak into its room 25 times a night to see if it’s breathing.

In the workshop this worry manifests itself in one very destructive way. It creates the need for perfectionism. If you are working with a piece of furniture that is already finished, don’t try to make it better when it is already really great. The last touch of sanding or stain could be the one little extra touch that destroys the entire piece. Don’t ‘potchke’ too much. Make believe it’s your 3rd or 4th child. Put it to bed, shut the door, and get some sleep.

The Sages of the Mishna echo the sentiments of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu in Pirkei Avos 1:3 “……Do not be like the servant who serves the Master for the sake of reward, rather be like the servant who serves that Master without seeking reward (but out of love for the thing itself)……” Our doing should always remain a natural expression of our being, and never codependent to a thing outside either of those. Ulterior motives corrupt our sincerity, and sincerity is key to our serenity.