You are not expected to complete the work in your lifetime, nor may you refuse to do your unique part
- Rabbi Tarfon
There’s a story that has been at the top of my mind lately. I have found myself telling it in nearly every class I teach, and many of the conversations I have. It’s an old story that I’ve heard different versions of over the years and I don’t quite know to whom I should attribute it. The version of the story that I’ve been telling goes something like this:
This is a story about a person in a moment of searching. Their world was full of conflict and strife, and while they were committed to taking action towards the betterment of their world, they did not know what to do, where to begin, or how to go about working for the change that they knew was needed. After many years of efforts that did not feel fruitful, they became disillusioned with their work and set off in search of a piece of wisdom that could help them navigate the challenging times that they were living through.
One day their journey brought them to a remote castle at the top of a mountain where they had heard there lived a wise elder. They arrived at the castle, as people often do in these kinds of stories, at dusk just as a storm of wind and rain was making its way up the mountain. Upon entering the castle they were greeted by a young person who took care of the elder. This host told our traveler that the elder could be found at the top room of the castle. They then gave our traveler a cup filled to the brim with oil, and told them that to see the elder they must bring this cup to the top room without spilling any along the way.
Our traveler, up to the challenge, took the cup of oil and - very slowly and very carefully - made their way through the castle, passing through every room, with their attention focused on the very full cup of oil. Finally, our traveler reached the top room and, not having spilled a single drop, felt accomplished and ready to receive the wisdom they had been seeking.
The elder greeted them warmly and, referencing the storm that was approaching, invited the traveler to spend the night. “As you walked through the castle”, the elder asked, “which room called most to you?” The traveler was taken aback, first by the kindness of the elder, but also by the fact that they had to admit that they were not called by any of the rooms, for they were so focused on not spilling the oil that they barely noticed any of their surroundings. “Well”, said the elder, “you must walk around the castle again and this time notice the rooms, notice the art, the views, the feel you get from each one”.
So our traveler, cup of oil still in hand, set back out through the castle, this time placing their attention on the many beautiful paintings and sculptures that filled the rooms and halls. A few hours later, our traveler returned to the top room where the elder sat, this time curled up in a chair by the fire. The traveler was in a state of euphoric awe, so beautiful the art and views that filled the castle were. For nearly twenty minutes, the traveler described in stunning detail each painting, each sculpture, each view from a window that called to them, as well as the feelings and sensations that these experiences stirred up.
When the traveler finished, the elder, having smiled through the entire monologue, took a deep breath and gently asked, “and the cup of oil?”
The traveler looked at their hands and noticed that the cup was gone, but there were oil stains on the legs of their pants. With their attention on the beauty that surrounded them, the traveler had completely lost track of the cup of oil they were holding, first letting the oil spill then, absentmindedly, placing the cup down somewhere they did not remember.
The elder, noticing the shock on the travelers face upon realizing this, smiled at them and then turned back to the fire.
I think the reason that this story has been living so close to the surface for me these last months is that one of the biggest challenges that I, and many of the people I’ve come across, are struggling with in this moment, is how to find the balance between looking at the big picture and focusing on the very practical tasks at hand.
Many of us are finding ourselves narrowing our vision, focusing so much of our attention on each and every horrific news story that comes across our feed that we can barely breath. We are literally constricting our airways with the narrowness of our attention, completely unaware of the beauty that still exists in the world, almost determined to not see it because the task at hand feels so important and so impossible.
An antidote to this narrowing of focus that helps me in these moments is to take a deep breath, take a step back, widen the scope of my vision, and take the long view. The long view reminds me that the horror and the suffering that is showing itself in the world is not particular to this moment, that throughout time there have always been forces of greed and destruction, there has always been strife and conflict, and there have always been people working towards making things better, there have always been people driven by and towards love, there is always beauty to be found, to be inspired by.
Taking the long view allows me to place myself in a lineage of these people, it allows me to learn from and be inspired by them, it allows me to imagine the world I want to live in and find the paths that might lead us in that direction.
But I want to be clear, the long view is not about getting caught in abstractions, getting wrapped up in utopian dreams to the point that I lose touch with reality. The long view invites me to place the moment we are living through in context: to look at reality right in the face, get clear on the places where my actions can be impactful, take those actions, and keep my eyes up and looking in the direction I want us to be going.
Taking the long view allows us to imagine the world we want to get to while acting in the world that we currently are in.