It's Not Your Job to Save the World

No one is expecting you to except you

Hello & welcome to another edition of Beyond Self Improvement!

Last Wednesday, I wrote about taming your emotions through naming. The comments on the post are beautiful because the beyond self improvement community comes with its heart open.

Speaking of people with open hearts, we have 8 new subscribers to Beyond Self Improvement since last Wednesday. My goal is 1,000 subscribers by December 2023. If you aren’t already, join 433 lovely people by subscribing now:

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Dear Friends,

For many, feeling responsible for saving the world is a daily burden.

My elementary school held a newspaper drive when I was in second grade to see which students could collect the most newspapers for recycling. It was my chance to make a mark at my little school, and I wanted to win.

For the next 365 days, I pleaded with my parents to save every newspaper instead of throwing them away. The pile of newspapers outside our back door grew over time, and I was pleased. On the final day of the contest, I arrived at school at a twenty-foot mountain of newspapers casting looming outside my classroom window.

Some of my classmates were more entrepreneurial than me. They had recruited their entire neighborhoods while I stayed within the confines of my family. It was my first taste of human competitiveness, even for minor things.

The following year, we moved from Los Angeles to a suburb of New York City. Naturalists and interpreters, primarily women, came to our school to show us exotic animals like owls and reptiles and tell us how they lived. I loved visiting the assembly hall to see the animals; they left a mark on my little mind.

From these roots, conservation came naturally.

In seventh grade, I wrote a paper about acid rain. When Exxon’s Valdez tanker spilled millions of gallons of oil off Alaska’s coast, I sold my meager Exxon stock to clear my conscience. After college, I bought organic food at co-ops and stopped eating animals. I biked to the grocery store, returning home with 50-lb backpacks full of food.

I also biked to work or took public transportation. I composted, walked to the local coffee shop, and bought clothes made from organic cotton. I followed the maxim If it's yellow, let it mellow. And if it's brown, flush it down. I did this in public settings until I realized there were better ways to conserve water. I even tried to convince my older sister only to have one child.  She was annoyed.

Once, on ancient Earth, there was a human boy walking along a beach. There had just been a storm, and starfish had been scattered along the sands. The boy knew the fish would die, so he began to fling the fish to the sea. But every time he threw a starfish, another would wash ashore.

An old Earth man happened along and saw what the child was doing. He called out, “Boy, what are you doing?”

“Saving the starfish!’ replied the boy.

“But your attempts are useless, child! Every time you save one, another one returns, often the same one! You can’t save them all, so why bother trying? Why does it matter, anyway?” called the old man.

The boy thought about this for a while, a starfish in his hand; he answered, “Well, it matters to this one.” And then he flung the starfish into the welcoming sea.

— Loren Eiseley

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Conservation aligned with my values and connected me to the earth and my surroundings. It gave me a sense of purpose, and I enjoyed giving back and contributing to a cause beyond work and daily life. Most of all, I wanted the natural world to thrive without pollution.

I referred to myself as an environmentalist, which gave me a sense of identity and made me feel important. It also meant judging and feeling superior to those who weren’t doing more to protect our natural resources.

As much as I enjoyed being an environmentalist, I lived with a nagging sense that saving our world from ecological destruction was somehow my responsibility alone. If I wasn’t preserving and protecting our natural resources, who would? Sometimes, my efforts felt more like a duty or obligation than an opportunity to contribute.

At times, I became resentful and angry at the hopelessness I felt when looking around at all of the SUVs, the size of the landfills, and the ongoing decimation of the world’s rainforests.

“If we try to solve today’s problems without overcoming the confusion and aggression in our own state of mind, then our efforts will only contribute to the basic problems, instead of solving them.  — Chögyam Trungpa.

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Eventually, I grew tired of trying to save the world. I realized that no matter how much I did, I would never be able to solve the environmental crisis by myself. The forces of capitalism, greed, and materialism were too great. Besides, who was I to think I could do it by myself anyway? And was I trying to make a difference or to feel good about myself?

M. Scott Peck, the author of the beautiful book, The Road Less Traveled, called himself a “responsibility-aholic.” Among the stacks of books and piles of papers in his cluttered study was a photocopy of an inspirational message: “Do not feel totally, personally, irrevocably responsible for everything. That’s my job. Love, God.”

In a previous article, I mentioned how the late Thai meditation master, Ajahn Chah, learned to relate to a teacup as if it were already broken. This allowed him to enjoy using a cup without worrying about it.

From this perspective, I began looking at the world as if it were already destroyed and gone. Instead of desperately trying to save the planet, I could enjoy the natural world without the burden of having to save it. With the world's weight off my shoulders, I felt lighter and freer.

The beauty is that I continued to do everything I had always done, only now without my efforts needing to make a difference. I could give back, not because I would save the world, but because it was right. My relationship with conservation is now radically different from how it was.

Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.

- Clearing by Martha Postlewaite

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So what does all of this mean? You do your part and give back without attaching to the outcome. If the Titanic is sinking, you do what you can to keep it afloat. You give back, not to build your identity, look down on others, or in hopes of getting a gold star, but because you believe it’s the right thing to do, regardless of what others say or do.

You give back knowing you can only control your actions, not the results. And you don’t need to go to India to build schools for those less fortunate. Acting locally with kindness, generosity, constancy, and empathy instead of violence is enough to transform the world.

To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence.

—Thomas Merton

In the Zen tradition, there are two activities: meditation and sweeping the garden. And it doesn’t matter how big your garden is. What matters is your intention and how you tend to your garden.

When asked about her efforts, Mother Theresa replied, “Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

That’s all for this week. Thanks for being here and giving me this space to share with you. I’ll be back in your inbox next Wednesday.

Keep giving back (without needing to do it all yourself),

Ryan

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Oh, and whenever you’re ready, I can help you transform chronic stress and worry into ongoing calm. Making you feel in control in 90 days. Schedule a free, 30-minute discovery call today.

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