The beauty in the mud
IDON’T know about you but I absolutely detest discomfort. I know people who thrive in challenging situations and some who even crave it. I don’t. I like tidy spaces, neutral and fun loving conversations, and rule following. Any sign of discomfort, a change in plans, and just conflict makes me just want to hide away with my books forever.
Now, don’t get me wrong, when life gets tough, I will adapt, that much is true and one I’ve witnessed in myself in the last eight years. However, I cannot promise you that I will like it. In fact, I will grovel, I will cry, I will complain, and I will fight. I don’t like discomfort. I don’t like seeing parts of myself that are too dark, too anti-heroic, too muddy.
The world, however, and much to my disdain, is never without conflict and never without the mud. In fact, in us exists both darkness and light and the same is true for the world. Duality is real and the less we deny it, the easier to deal with it.
A great symbol of this is the lotus flower. The lotus flower is a symbol of awakening in Buddhist and other spiritual traditions because it is able to bloom in the muckiest and muddiest swamps with its roots beginning under the swamp water and its bud reaching their way to the surface where they become flowers. Without mud, this beautiful flower would not exist.
Thich Nhat Hanh explores the wonder of this teaching in the book No Mud, No Lotus. The book and Nhat Hanh’s teaching reminds us to acknowledge and transform suffering. We do this by simply accepting the mud within ourselves, our situations, and others. When we run away from things and don’t acknowledge that they exist, they become these vicious untamed creatures ready to pounce anytime. Whereas when we accept our own mud - the mud within ourselves, the truth about our darkness, and the reality of our situation, we realize that the mud isn’t that scary or impossible to muck through. In our mindfulness, we realize that hey maybe the muck isn’t that bad. Yes, it’s uncomfortable and yes it sucks but it’s not destroying me. In fact, understanding it and even welcoming it strengthens me instead of doing the opposite effect.
Similar to the Japanese tradition of Kintsugi, we come to realize that our muddy and broken parts are what makes us who we are – imperfectly beautiful and most importantly, worthy of taking up space.
Yael Shy says it well, “Our task, as best as I can see it, is to get to know the muck, both personally and socially. Go around with a flashlight, see and name its parts. We have to breathe through the pain, acknowledge our hearts’ longings, and understand that without delving into the mud, we can’t have the lotus. This muck IS our path. Hope and joy and patience and fortitude are born from opening our heart to the struggle. It may knock us down, but the more we resist or judge or hate on it or ourselves, the more mired in it we become.
Instead, we can face the mud with a brave heart. We can commit ourselves to keep showing up, even if we don’t want to, with more kindness, more acceptance, more love. “No mud, no lotus” can be a reminder, helping us to see the transformational possibilities of suffering and the possibilities of the lotus flowers, just waiting to bloom.”