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The LearningMethods Library

On The Virtues
(or, Having the experience, but missing the meaning)
By David Gorman
Copyright (c) 1999 David Gorman, all rights reserved world-wide
In April of 1998 I found myself on a long train ride travelling from a workshop in
Stockholm to another in Göteborg. The train periodically stopped in small towns, but mostly it flowed on past woods and lakes and
through fields and farms. For a while I absorbed the flavour of the austere and rugged Swedish countryside, but then picked up a book
and began to read.
It was a novel, taking place in protestant New England in the nineteenth century. One of
the individuals in the book was discoursing on the 'virtues' that form the moral foundation to a good person and a good society —
patience, honesty, courage, temperance, humility, and so on. She was suggesting, in no uncertain
terms, that most of society's ills were to be accounted for by the sad lack of these virtues in most people. Their baser natures
tempted them into vices or sent them into blind loss of control. But (she said), if any right-thinking person took the time and the
trouble to practise these virtues, well... he or she would be a better person and the world would be a better place.
Admirable enough sentiments — whether in the nineteenth century or the soon-to-be
twenty-first. But it got me thinking… Just what are these virtues that we can have them or be lacking them? And if we
don't naturally have them, just what sort of practice does one do to get them? Are they some sort of skilled activity
we learn, like golfing or playing a violin, through practice and study? Or perhaps it is more a repetitive kind of practice, like
tying our shoelaces, that will turn the virtues into automatically incorporated habits by doing them often enough?
But, if they are simply skills or practised habits, then why are they virtuous? Is a
well-practised golf swing described as virtuous? Is there the virtue of mastering a good shoelace knot? Well, perhaps only in the
smallest sense of the word. But, it certainly was implicit in the point of view of our character in the novel that the word virtue
conjured up elements of a moral standard — right and good as opposed to wrong and bad. And she was saying that this
standard was reachable through some direct process, though it seems that not many succeed.
Which, of course, raises the further question, if these virtues are so 'good', why do so
few manage to achieve them?
This started me wondering whether these virtues were, in fact, qualities in themselves
that one could possess or states that one could dwell in. Take patience as an example. If we were patient all the time, would we be
aware of being virtuous? Would we even be aware of being patient? Probably not. However, when we are being impatient, or
someone around us is being impatient, we certainly do notice that. The unpleasantness of the experience wakes us up and we recognize
impatience. This in turn reminds us of its opposite and how we should immediately try to be more virtuously patient.
That is, the virtues seem most obvious when we are not being virtuous. In other words,
they appear to be most noticeable by their absence.
Then, does this mean that the virtues, in practice, are not so much final places to
arrive at, but more a choice of direction toward that better moral standard in the face of its opposite? Toward patience
instead of impatience; toward honesty rather than lying, etc.? Would we be patient, by default, if we could just choose away from
impatience whenever it comes up? Would we be patient if we were just not impatient? Is patience the absence of impatience or an
actual act in itself?
I had a long train ride and it seemed there were a lot of questions here, so I decided
to look more closely in turn at several of these virtues. Partly to see if I could more clearly pin down what they really are — if we
are being admonished to practise them it might be a good idea to know what we'd be practising — but also to see exactly how one might
go about such practice.
Patience
As everyone knows, it is when we are impatient that patience seems the hardest virtue to
practise. This is unfortunate, since it is precisely those moments of impatience that would seem to be the most important times to
practise patience. So if patience is the absence of impatience, perhaps we need to look more at the nature of impatience than the
nature of patience. What is it about impatience that seems so hard to get out of?
Is not impatience the state we get into when we want things to happen faster than they
are actually happening? That is, when the actual reality of how fast things are happening does not match our idea of how fast they
should be happening.
In addition, when we have an expectation of the speed at which things should be
happening (but they are not), is it not our impatience that spurs us on to try to hurry things up and make them happen as fast as we
want? As you know from experience, of course, all this hurrying up results in a lot of struggling and pushing ourselves to do
things faster, creating a lot of stress and tensing up which results in further mounting 'feelings' of impatience.
So given all that, why is it so hard to be patient? Well, as I looked into my own
experience (always a good place to look) it seemed that the crux of the matter is that we hang onto the idea we have of how fast
things should happen. In the most obvious and tangible way, reality is clearly showing us the speed at which things
actually do happen, but because of our fixed idea, we do not register this as a fact, we register it as a problem.
Even in the face of repeated experiences that our idea does not match reality, we
nevertheless keep trying to get reality to fit our idea of what should be. As long as we hold onto our idea as being more
real than what really happens (perhaps more ideal might be a better word) we will continue to experience
impatience. How could we not?
It struck me that this is not a moral issue in the normal sense of that word
having to do with right and wrong, but rather it is an issue of ignorance and learning. It is not about good virtue
(patience) and bad vice (impatience), but about our misconception of how things work. Over and over again, we have the
feeling of impatience, but each time we completely miss the meaning of that feeling.
So what is the meaning of this feeling? Notice that we have our expectations of how
long things take and the impatience wakes us up in the very moment when these expectations are not being met. That is, functionally
speaking, the experience of impatience appears just at the moment when it can serve to alert us that things are not as we think they
are. If we can take this experience as a wake-up call rather than a bad thing, we will then be available to register the information
that reality is showing us — namely the speed at which things actually do happen. We are then available to realize the inaccuracy of
our previous conception. Then we can adjust our idea to fit the reality, rather than trying to get reality to fit our idea.
Looked at this way, the initial experience of impatience is not a problem nor is
it a vice. It is a necessary part of the learning process — in fact, arguably the most essential part, for without it we would not
even know there was anything at all to be learned!
Note how beautifully it works. Each time we underestimate the time things take, we will
definitely be woken up by this very tangible experience of impatience, We are woken up so that we can register a more accurate
assessment of the time things really do take. After one or more times, we will then know how long these things take. We will have more
accurate knowledge we didn't have before. We will have learned.
When we know how long things take, why would we have an expectation that they would take
less time? We will no longer be impatient for we can see that things are simply taking the time that they take.
If we know how long things take and are no longer impatient, we will no longer be
trying to do the job faster to match our idea, so we will no longer be causing ourselves tension nor interfering with our natural
coordination by hurrying up our movements.
In addition, when we're not ahead of ourselves trying to finish faster, we will be more
in the present moment of everything that we're doing and hence more able to really see what we're doing and therefore do a better job.
Not only that, but we will be in a better position to see more clearly what else needs to be done, and so will be able to learn more
about the job. In this way, learning begets more learning.
If we look carefully at those impatience moments, we can see that many times we
are not impatient simply because of how long the process is taking. We often get impatient because we have not fully appreciated what
is involved in the process and all the steps necessary to complete the task. In other words, there is an ignorance of the extent and
nature of the job at hand. Here too learning is needed. That is to say, the wake-up call of impatience alerts us to an
essential level of knowledge — knowing what we don't know. This acknowledgement of our lack of knowledge invites us to open ourselves
up willingly to a learning process to gain that knowledge.
Looked at in this way, it makes no sense to practise patience, if by patience we
mean trying not to be impatient or trying to slow down and calm down. It makes no sense, in other words, to try to get rid of the
impatience. We need the wake-up call of impatience in order to learn more accurately about the world and our activities in it.
After we have learned and our expectations are more in accord with reality, will we end
up experiencing something we would call patience? Or will we simply be living our lives better — without impatience?
As a result of this learning we end up not just perceiving reality more accurately. We
actually end up living in a different reality than we did before — one that includes a changed understanding of the meaning of
the experience of impatience and how to use it to learn. With this changed understanding we can then take a completely different
pathway than we would have before.
Normally we would take the experience of impatience to be the vice and try to
change it to the virtue of patience. Now we can see that there is indeed something wrong, but it is not the impatience. It is
the underlying concept of how long things take which is wrong. The fact is that the experience of impatience appears naturally at just
the moment when the information of how long things really take is available to correct our ideas. Does this not suggest strongly that
we have a wonderful kind of learning ability built right into our very nature?
Frustration:
This led me into thinking about frustration, another unpleasant experience
similar to and closely linked with impatience. What if I applied the same way of looking at it?
When we go into any activity to achieve a particular goal, we go in with our current
ideas (or knowledge) of how to achieve it. And, of course, we then actually use these means to try to achieve the goal.
But what happens if we do not get the result we want?
Often what happens is that the power of our wanting the result and the fixedness of our
idea of how to get it, are such as to keep us locked-in to this trying even though it continually fails to deliver the result we're
after.
The experience of this blind trying and retrying is that we end up getting more and more
frustrated.
From this point of view, what is frustration but the experience of trying to do what
cannot be done? Or at least of trying to do what cannot be done by the means that we are using at the moment? Once again,
whether we keep on flogging away so the frustration mounts or we quit in disgust, we are having the experience, but missing the
meaning.
In the same way as in impatience, notice that the frustration experience occurs
just when we get stuck repeating a certain means, repeatedly expecting a certain result, but not actually getting that result. It
seems obvious that we truly believe that the means we are using will, in fact, deliver us that result. So we keep on trying and keep
on failing - as long as we hang on to our belief about the way things should work.
If we apply our learning model from above to this feeling of frustration,
we can see further similarities with impatience. The extremely tangible experience of frustration is the very way we have of being
woken up to what reality is showing us each time — that it does not work the way we thought it did. This alerts us that learning is
needed, not further reaction. Once alerted, we then have the opportunity to look closely at the means we are using and the results
being produced in order to see where our misconceptions lie.
We usually experience frustration as an extremely negative state. But is it
fundamentally negative in its own right or does it have this negative quality simply because we are missing the meaning and so are
helpless in it, doomed to either provoke further frustration or give up and quit?
We can answer this question easily. If we use the initial frustration experience to wake
up and recognize that we are in a learning situation, would we travel so far down the road of trying the same thing over and over and
would we arrive at the same frustration? Would the resulting experience of recognition, exploration and learning be negative or be
one of curiosity as to why things were not working and satisfaction when we figured it all out?
I felt I was getting somewhere with understanding the question of whether these
virtues were things or states in themselves. In effect, they did appear to be states in themselves — but not states of moral
behaviour. They are states of knowledge! They are certainly not about experiences of right and wrong but about learning better how
the world works.
If this is so, then I could see why the virtues are seen as so big a challenge and why
they appear to demand such a difficult choice in the face of their opposites that so few can prevail. If we misunderstand them and
fail to see the meaning in the experience, we will repeatedly be stuck in experiences of impatience or frustration.
I decided to go on to look at another of the other virtues to see if these same
principles applied there too.
Honesty:
What is honesty but telling the truth or stating the way things are? But is honesty a
thing or state in its own right? Are we practising honesty when we look up and say that the sun is shining? Or are we just stating a
fact of the way things are? When we are describing these facts of the way things are, do we have an experience of
honesty? Not usually.
But when we are being dishonest, we usually have a quite definite and tangible
experience — fear, nervousness, guilt, a narrowing into a self-conscious, multi-level complexity of thoughts.
In fact, is it not that we have an actual experience of honesty only when we are
not expecting someone to be honest, or in a situation where it is surprising? If the used-car salesman starts telling us honestly
about the accident the car was in before they covered it all up, we'd notice their honesty. Or we notice our own honesty if we have
been used to being dishonest and now feel the relief of confessing.
But then, is this to say that most of our actual experiences have been ones of the
absence of honesty - of the consequences and feelings raised by dishonesty? Probably like most people, there have been experiences of
dishonesty from both sides - the problems we've had from lying and the problems we've had from being lied to.
If dishonesty causes so many problems, then the obvious question is, why is it so
common? Or the converse, why does honesty seem to be such a difficult virtue for many people? That is, for many people it
seems to be a tougher and harder thing to be honest than to be dishonest, at least in certain situations.
Why is this, I thought? If I looked to my own and other's experiences, I could see that
it stemmed from one of two situations. Either we feel that we have something we'd lose by being honest (something to gain by being
dishonest) or we have something we wish to avoid that we believe would happen if we were honest.
It's possible to be even more precise than that. The measure of how hard it is to be
honest is a measure of the strength of our need to have what we want or our need to avoid what we don't want. In other words, it is
harder to the degree to which it would be unacceptable to be without what we want, or the degree to which we feel it would be
intolerable to have the experience we wish to avoid.
So, we make up another version of 'reality' which we think will give us what we need or
keep us from what we fear. It goes without saying that we believe at the time that this made-up version will be taken as real by those
we lie to; that they won't be able to tell the difference. In other words, we believe we can simulate reality and pass it off as the
real thing.
Of course, there is a big contradiction here. We don't want the reality that actually
is, we want our 'ideal' version. This ideal version that we want is a made-up version, i.e. unreal. But we don't really want a made-up
version, we want it to be real - except that it is not. Big problem…
So if we want the real, why could we not just practise the virtue of honesty and
tell the truth? Honesty, after all, is nothing more than knowing the way things are and recognizing that they are that way - in other
words, the truth. Honesty is literally the easiest way to be in the world. There is nothing to do but just to be with
what is, as it is. What could be easier than that? Then all is real. In fact, honesty is nothing more than being in this world.
Anything else is NOT being in this world.
If it's so easy, what stops us from being virtuous, honesty-wise? The reasons above
explained part of it, but they only come into play in certain moments in certain situations, specifically when a particular truth
seems hard and a lie seems easy. But it struck me that there is an underlying belief or construct acting as a constant factor to
predetermine that at certain moments we will find the lie easier than the truth. This constant is our strongly held ideas about what
our lives should be like — what we must have or what we must avoid.
Notice the similarities with the situations of impatience and frustration. We have an
expectation that things should be one way and reality keeps showing us that they are different. We keep on trying to perpetrate our
fixed idea (ideal) in the face of reality and continue to suffer all the consequences. Interestingly, this in spite of the fact that
we already live, and always have lived, in the actual reality as it is!
On top of all this, we also end up feeling worse because "the good that we would, we
do not; but the evil which we would not, that we do" to paraphrase St. Paul. In other words we have framed a moral choice of
good and evil and then find we cannot successfully make the right choice, when a closer look at the facts shows that once
again it is more a question of ignorance and learning.
Notice too that just as in impatience and frustration we also have very tangible
symptoms showing up at exactly the moment when we need to learn the way things work rather than how we would have them work. If we
were to recognize these experiences of dishonesty (fear, nervousness, shame, guilt, etc.) as wake-up calls, we would be present enough
in the moment to learn. And one of the things we would be available to learn is how bad we feel when we prepare to lie and when
we get found out and how those bad feelings do not happen when we stay with what is as it is. We would also be available to
perceive who we actually are rather than who we want to be.
The learning goes much deeper if we can wake up in those moments when what is happening
is not what we want. Rather than lie to get what we want, we would be available to look at the means we used to get it and why those
means did not get it for us. Rather than lie to avoid what we don't want, we would be able to look at what we did that led to those
results so that it would not be likely to happen again.
It is knowledge and understanding, not honesty that is going to obtain for us
what we want or allow us to avoid what we don't want. But it is honesty, or at least looking clearly at the truth, that can help us
get that knowledge.
There is another correspondence with impatience and frustration. If we undertook this
learning and over time came to better means to get what we want and avoid what we don't, would we find ourselves having quite a
different experience in those moments when we are not getting things we want or are afraid of what might happen? Might we not find
ourselves with more curiosity than fear?
If we look at how things work with curiosity rather than trying to distort them to suit
ourselves, how could we feel guilt or shame? We've done nothing wrong.
If we manage to meet these moments with learning responses instead of moral
reactions, perhaps we'd also see that we can meet them… and not only survive, but prosper.
Wouldn't we then be able to meet other such moments, no matter how unknown and scary,
with enough courage to be open to learning too? And wasn't courage another of those virtues to look at?
However, at that moment I discovered another virtue —
punctuality. The train had just pulled into the station and it was time for another workshop.
~~~~~~~
There is a
small biography of personal details about the author below.


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About the Author
David Gorman developed the LearningMethods work out of over 30 years of research and teaching experiences. He
has a background as an artist and a fascination with exploring human structure and function. In the mid-70s he spent many nights
dissecting in the lab and drawing furiously. In 1980 he published an illustrated 600-page work, The Body Moveable and a collection of
articles and essays, Looking at Ourselves in 1996.
He studied the Alexander Technique since 1972 and taught that work from 1980-1997 becoming well-known worldwide for his innovations to the
work and notorious for challenging the orthodoxy of the profession. He has been invited to teach all over the world in universities,
conservatories and training colleges, at conferences and symposia, and with performance groups and health professionals.
In 1982, his teaching was revolutionised by his discovery of a new model of human organisation with its profound implications of our
in-built and natural tendency toward balance, ease and wholeness. He extended these insights into a new way of training teachers of the
Alexander Technique and from 1988 to 1997 in London, UK he trained 45 teachers, assisted by
Margaret Farrar until 1994 and then by Ann Penistan.
However, further explorations in his own and other training groups made it clear that the greater part of our problems lay not in the
'body' but in our consciousness and way of seeing things — our underlying belief systems and how we misinterpret our daily experiences and
then react to these misunderstandings. At this point it also became apparent that his discoveries and the changed teaching methods they
implied no longer fit under the belief system and pedagogy of the Alexander Technique.
Recognizing the need for a new and more effective approach to help people
uncover and liberate themselves from these circular traps, David developed the LearningMethods work to teach people how to gain command of
their exquisite in-built clarity of perception and powerful tools of intelligence so they can successfully navigate their lives.
Since the beginning of the work in 1997, David has completed the training of a growing number of LearningMethods Teachers, many of whom are now teaching
the LM work in universities and conservatories, and continues to evolve the Apprenticeship Teacher
Training Program. He
continues to give workshops in Europe, North America and Asia (click here for David's teaching schedule) as well as writing about the work and raising another young son.
DAVID GORMAN
Send an e-mail
Tel: +1 416-519-5470, Fax: +1 416-519-7470
19 Stephen Drive, Etobicoke, Ontario, Canada M8Y 3M7
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