Vanadium I-Ching

(The following is an essay I wrote last term for an intro. philosophy course.)

I learned quietness was an undesirable trait as early as fourth grade. “You’re going to have to speak up,” my teacher once said, “or else you’ll never be a cheerleader.” Of course, I didn’t want to be a cheerleader. I’d never said I wanted to be a cheerleader. But she implied that I should. After all, didn’t every girl dream of being a high school cheerleader someday, especially at a Texas elementary school?

The “quiet” label followed me. I was told being quiet – by teachers, parents, friends – was something I needed to shake. Had it ever served me well? In school, I was perceived as stuck up. I stood in front of class and mumbled intelligent book reports, but my presentation and speaking style left much to be desired.

In the workforce, I eventually learned that the people who hired me for my current job thought I was “a bad interview.” They’d taken a chance on me, on the strength of my resume, and they were glad they did. (As it turns out, I still work for said company.)

But the point is: I gave a bad first impression. I almost didn’t get hired. And I believe that’s because my traits are not compatible with America’s idea of success. I’m quiet, which leads one to believe I may not be a competitive go-getter. Perhaps quietness, too, indicates that I like to be alone. I therefore may not be a “team player.” How could a person with these traits be successful in corporate America?

To be quiet and still and quite content spending time alone is incompatible with our culture in general. To be busy and on-the-go, talking on the phone in the car, at the supermarket, in the middle of dinner, indicates success, a full life. To be “plugged in,” BlackBerry or iPhone in hand, indicates that one is a Very Important Person.

When I was younger, there was a time when I wanted to be someone else. Then I realized as I grew older that sure, I’d changed a bit - I certainly wasn’t as shy or reticent, and it’s not like I could be considered maladaptive - but I was still quiet. I would always be labeled “quiet.” I would always prefer solitude. Some things weren’t going to change, and did I really want them to? The answer was no. What was wrong with me? Perhaps nothing.

It dawned on me eventually that other cultures might value quietness, or at very least, have a tradition of quietness, counter to America’s tradition of conquering the frontier. Coming to the Tao Te Ching, my personality traits were affirmed in Chapter Fifty-Six: “Those who know do not talk. / Those who talk do not know.”

From this premise, the Tao instructs the reader on how to “know.” The first instruction is: “Keep your mouth closed.” To accomplish this means you have to keep still. You have to keep quiet and listen, as it is more important to listen than to talk. If you are too busy talking, you might miss what you need to know.

The reader is instructed further to “Guard your senses. / Temper your sharpness. / Simplify your problems. / Mask your brightness.” The initial instructions indicate that we must protect ourselves in terms of what we expose ourselves to. We must be careful and discriminating; if we’re not, we may stray off course. To whom might we not want to expose ourselves? Those who talk.

The subsequent instructions tell us to be humble and not call attention to ourselves. We should tone down our sharpness – and sharpness can mean many things, ranging from acute perception to shrewd intelligence. We should not catastrophize and dramatize our problems. We should not flaunt what we have, whether it is intelligence or riches.

Such a person will no doubt mystify. As Anneli Rufus writes in her collection of essays titled Party of One: “By Veblen’s reckoning, we [loners] give no evidence." She is referencing political economist Thorstein Veblen’s concept of “conspicuous consumption.” To be a conspicuous consumer is to display wealth ostentatiously. Quiet, under-the-radar loners aren’t conspicuous, so we give the outside world little indication of who we are. The Tao, likewise, instructs us to give no evidence.

Our final instruction is to “Be at one with the dust of the earth,” for that is “primal union.” If we follow these instructions, the Tao indicates that we will be unconcerned, which is “the highest state of man.”

To be at one with the dust also is to be humble because you are dust. To be at one with the dust also indicates that you are grounded – not untethered. You have gravity pulling you toward the earth, and you are heavy; but you are also light: “unconcerned with friends and enemies, / With good and harm, with honor and disgrace.”

The book has instructed me to be more like myself. I am keeping still. I am keeping quiet.