DETACHMENT VS. NOT GIVING A FUCK

Detached judgment while giving a fuck

There are several books out, these days, about not giving a fuck. And yes, I get it, we can now use the word ‘fuck’ in a book—even right on the cover. Look here: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Well, fuck is a fine word, a fucking powerful word. If you don’t give one, it means you don’t care. Hence if you do give one, you probably care. “I haven’t a fuck in the world, tra la!”

Let me say first that no one is trying to tell you that you should simply not care. Mark Manson, whose book, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, tops the list, goes to extreme trouble to make that clear. Nonetheless, most people are going to go right ahead and misunderstand, because their desire to get mileage from telling the world they don’t give a fuck is very strong.

When religious sages write about detachment, they are essentially writing about not giving a fuck. Yet there’s a considerable difference to you between cultivating detachment and not giving a fuck. When you say, “I don’t give a fuck,” observe the surrounding cast who support your statement. I believe you will recognize Arrogance, Rebellion, Daring, Challenge, Apathy—oh, and a little nameless character whose walk-on part is to inflict a pinprick of pain to someone, somewhere, somehow. The phrase, “I don’t give a fuck,’ was designed from the outset to be an instrument of combat. If you can separate it from all its hangers-on, great. (Mark Manson can help you do that, and I recommend his book.)

Detachment has no such encumbrances. Detachment is accomplished with elegance and grace. It blows no trumpet. It is a completely independent decision involving no one else’s participation in any way. When you detach, you remove yourself from the center of conflict very quietly, as though you suddenly turned invisible. Once you have disentangled, you rise to a higher place of perspective, as you do when climbing a mountain. From that elevation, you can see more clearly the pattern of everyone else’s desires—and your own. Jesus was in a very high state of consciousness when he said, from the cross, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” He did not say, “Frankly, Father, I don’t give a fuck.”

Let’s suppose you’ve found out that certain people are saying very unfair things about you behind your back. And the discovery has probably hurt you. So, you say, “I don’t give a fuck what they say about me.” There, feel better? Really? Because it sounds to me as if you do give a whole bunch of fucks. If you really didn’t give a fuck—didn’t care—then you wouldn’t need to say so. The word ‘fuck’ is intended to rattle someone’s eardrums. Even if you don’t say it out loud, you’re kind of hoping the power-vibes of the word will slice through the ether, hit their mark, and make someone feel sorry.

Then what happens if you detach? What’s the difference? I will talk about that in a later blog.

WHAT'S INSIDE

I’ve said, on my Facebook page: …Because there is greatness in you, and you know it. What does that mean?

Let’s vamp a little on the old saying, Inside every fat person is a thin person waiting to come out. This may be true, or not; many fat people are absolutely happy where they are. And that goes for everyone else I’m about to bring up. But bear with me awhile; there’s a useful germ here.

Inside every poor person is a carefree millionaire. Inside every clumsy person is the wishful concept of grace or competence. Inside every inarticulate person is a public speaker. Inside every wuss is a jock. Inside every musical moron is a meadowlark.

Behind every failure is an insufficiently conceived success. It is this process of conception we’re concerned with right now. It’s these mysterious steps between fat and thin, sick and well, timid and courageous, poor and wealthy. How do you get from here to there when you’ve never been ‘there’? And when you perhaps even fear ‘there’? How can you envision yourself as healthy when you can’t walk to the mailbox? How can you envision yourself wealthy when your only experience with wealth is a movie villain lighting a cigar with a hundred-dollar bill?

Visioning (or envisioning, or visualizing) is a necessary tool if you want to accomplish anything whatsoever. If you will observe yourself today, you’ll see that every smallest conscious action you perform has been preceded by an image of yourself performing it. Reach for your coffee? Believe me, you have already seen the meeting of cup and lip in your mind’s eye.

Most often, we envision acts that are familiar to us, so it’s no stretch. If, however, we envision holding a tarantula, we might hesitate a bit (if we are not seasoned tarantula holders) because the holding of a tarantula is unfamiliar. We don’t know what to expect. Our skin might prickle at the prospect even though we’ve been assured that holding a tarantula is perfectly fine and fun.

Our own potential—the greatness we all suspect we have within us—is a little like that tarantula. It’s unfamiliar; we haven’t actually experienced it, touched it. Who knows, we might hate it. It might feel terrible to walk on the beach in a bikini—to stand on a stage and start talking—to catch a hard-thrown ball—to plunk down a thousand bucks for a blouse—to be seen by one’s friends driving a Cadillac—to swim in deep water—to sing a glass-shattering high C. We can see strangers doing these things, but not ourselves. We wouldn’t even be ourselves, maybe; we’d be like those strangers. Our friends might look askance at us and say, accusingly, “You’re not the same person.”

Will you, in fact, be the same person? Yes and no. A fully developed person is a person whose values are congruent with his/her actual life. If you don’t love where you are, your values are incongruent with your actuality. If you change your life to better suit your values, you will be the same person you always were—a person who has a value system. The only difference is, now you’re a person who has brought that value system to the forefront and is living accordingly. Envision that!