Got Yourself a Motto or Mantra?
By Erin Gordon
In my novel PEEPS, the main character Meg, a podcaster, asks all of her guests the same seven questions, including “What’s your motto for life?” The responses — everything from “Have a lot of faith and if that doesn’t work, have a lot of mimosas” to “No grit, no pearl” — reveal something about each character. Meg asks this question because she’s motto-less herself — that is, until the end of the book when she finally discovers her own.
Like Meg, I've long sought a life motto, a mission statement of sorts. While I still haven’t landed on one, I have crafted a three-part mantra.
WE’LL SEE.
Years ago I wrote a magazine article about how the Meyers-Briggs personality framework applied to lawyers. As part of the reporting, the Meyers-Briggs expert I interviewed offered to administer the test to me. For anyone interested, I’m an ISTJ but the more notable result was that the woman declared that in all her years of working with the framework she had never encountered someone so extreme on the J (judging) scale. Indeed, I have a deep need for order and, as part of that, I slot EVERYTHING — people, results, encounters, myself — into buckets of “good” or “bad.” It’s taken me years to grasp that people are actually nuanced (duh) and that often there’s a third “neutral” category.
A favorite teaching story reflects this idea and led me to this two-word mantra:
A farmer's only horse escaped from his property. The villagers proclaimed, "What terrible fortune!" The farmer calmly replied, "Perhaps. We shall see."
Later, the horse returned, bringing along several wild horses. The villagers exclaimed, "What wonderful fortune!" The farmer responded, "Perhaps. We shall see."
When the farmer's son tried to tame one of the wild horses, he was thrown and broke his leg. Again, the villagers commented, "What misfortune!" The farmer replied, "Perhaps. We shall see."
Soon after, military officials came to conscript young men, but the farmer's son was spared due to his broken leg. The villagers declared, "What blessing!" The farmer maintained his perspective: "Perhaps. We shall see."
This parable reminds me that my knee-jerk judgments about "good" or "bad" are often premature, unnecessary or simply wrong. Whenever I’m inclined to immediately assign something or someone to one of my binary good-bad categories, I remind myself, “We’ll see.”
I CHOOSE TO TRUST.
One time I treated myself to a massage. After a few minutes, the very intuitive therapist queried, “What parts of your body do you feel on the table?” I assessed and then confessed, “Uh, nothing.” Prompted by the wise masseuse, I realized that my whole body was tense, as if I didn’t trust that the table would hold me. My kids will tell you that I’m always on high alert — my fight-or-flight system is busted. For some reason (maybe inherited trauma from Jewish ancestors who experienced centuries of persecution?), I am skeptical of the Universe. I can’t let go. I seek to control outcomes. A few days after that massage, I mentioned the experience to a friend, how the therapist’s question revealed that I didn’t feel safe in the world, that I didn’t trust that the Universe has my back. She replied thoughtfully, “Tell yourself you choose to trust.” Genius. This “I choose to trust” mantra acknowledges my innate skepticism while also reminding myself that I have agency, that when it comes to taking an optimistic or pessimistic view of how the Universe might unfold, I can choose optimism.
THIS, TOO.
Twelve years ago, I got a yoga teacher certification. Turns out that the physical poses we picture when we think of yoga are merely one of eight “limbs” — or elements — of the complete yoga practice. Another element is non-attachment, which refers, in part, to letting go — of the past, of negative emotions, of a desire for future outcomes. (The physical yoga practice, which can be effortful, is actually designed to teach us to sit with, to breathe through, to find ease in discomfort.) Many of us have a passionate resistance to difficult, unpleasant or uncomfortable emotions, sensations, events, interactions, etc. Yet resisting what is only leads to suffering. A favorite therapist likes to say, “Wouldn’t you rather live in the real world?” The “This, too” mantra reminds me that difficulties (or things that are, indeed, squarely in the “bad” category after the “we’ll see” plays out) are part of the human experience. Rather than railing against these difficulties, “This, too” reminds me to move forward with what is, to live in the real world.
Do I always remember these mantras?
Oh, hell no.
I judge. I worry. I fume.
But reminding myself of these ideas is where the magic is. An analogy: in yoga school I learned that, contrary to popular belief, the goal of meditation is not to clear one’s mind. Rather, the meditation practice is in the noticing when one’s mind has (inevitably) wandered and then bringing it back to center - that’s meditation. In other words, I “violate” these mantras all the time but the power is in reminding myself of these ideas and why they matter to me — at least that’s what I’m telling myself. After all, I choose to trust.
Was this a bunch of uninteresting gobbly gook to you? Would you rather read posts about my celebrity best friends? (Tell me — I can take it!)
Do these ideas resonate with you in any way?
Do you have a motto for life? A mantra?
I’d love to know.
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***Feel free to reach out to me at ErinGordonSF@gmail.com — do not reply to this email as it will not reach me.***