You're Right

A Sufi teaching story featuring the wise fool Nasruddin has been dancing through my mind lately. I was asked to facilitate a council of three spiritually oriented groups that were being fragmented by a conflict affecting all of them. The groups, while independent, operate as intersecting microcosms, with some members belonging to all three.

The situation was emotionally charged, and several people felt that they’d been deeply harmed by others’ behavior. The pain being felt by everyone was palpable.

In the Sufi story, Nasruddin is asked to serve as judge to settle a dispute between two families. Upon hearing the first family’s claims and grievances, Nasruddin proclaims, “You’re right!” When the second family tells their version, Nasruddin again declares, “You’re right!” His wife, having overheard the exchange, whispers to him, “They can’t both be right.” Nasruddin replies, “You’re right!”

I don’t see Nasruddin as the naïve fool who too easily accepts influence from anyone; but rather as the sage who expands his judgment to affirm the perception of rightness that each of the three hold. He is a wise one who knows that there is rightness in everyone and looks for it.

When I feel wronged by another, it seems natural to find fault and see them as the sole offender. I can easily move myself in the role of the victimized one and lose sight of the offender’s humanity. I separate myself from any shared longing or experience that I may have had with the other person, and neglect to look for any role I may have played in creating the situation.

There’s a physical quality I notice when I engage in this kind of separation. I tighten and constrict: I literally harden my heart. In their book Embracing the Beloved, Stephen and Ondrea Levine speak of noticing their bellies tighten when they argue. To help one another come back to a place of centered openness, they’ll ask, “How’s your belly?”

Mucking about in my victimhood is often quite delicious at first. It seems to be a familiar inner place that I’ve furnished quite comfortably. But soon I can find myself looking around for other old grievances to dredge up and severe discomfort sets in. I recognize that I am causing myself to suffer, as much or more than the offender did. The painful constriction of my hardened heart prompts me to look for another way to understand what has happened.

Often it’s hard work, and usually it takes some time. Meditative breathing can quickly soften my belly and my hardened heart, but then I must go to work on my mind, which as my teacher Byron Katie says, believes it has only one job – to be right.

She also says that the greatest gift you can give anyone is to let them be right. In Katie’s world, everyone is right.

Sitting quietly with my mind, suspending judgment and curiously watching what comes up can be fascinating – is it ever quiet, I wonder? I notice that once my mind sees the suffering, it begins to shift, and I can see my sameness with the other. I tell myself that, just like me, this person is trying to experience as little suffering and as much joy as possible in this lifetime, and I can both feel and know the truth of that.

My softened mind, along with heart and belly, then helps me to know how I want to move forward. Sometimes I’ll want to reconnect with the other person, sometimes part ways, sometimes do nothing. I know that whichever it is will be a path of peace for me.

This is the energy and awareness I hope to bring whenever I’m asked to help with conflict. Knowing there is rightness in everyone, I’ll look for it, and perhaps, somewhere in the ethers Nasruddin will be saying to each one of us, “You’re right.”