In mid-January, I was informed that my dad was facing health challenges that he was reluctant to acknowledge. The gnarled fingers of dementia were tugging on his trousers, pulling on his legs and gaining momentum towards a tackle. Yet we didn’t know that was what was happening. We just knew something was off. He was off and he thought he was on.
Without warning, I became responsible for a man who had always had my back. The only resource I had was googling how to talk to seniors who think all is well when it isn’t. I went to visit him to open the conversation about care options despite his disinterest. As I pulled up to his house, I pulled out a picture of my mom to channel her strength. She was a deeply spiritual woman who had challenged me to recite the 23rd Psalm from memory a couple weeks before she died.
While I was able to recall the words about walking in the valley of the shadow of death, that passage is from a book that is only a part of my spirituality. I have read the Tao Te Ching the most. I don’t know what tradition it’s from. I don’t know when it was written. What I know is that its words inspire me to live the simplest and highest truths.
After looking at my mom’s photo, I considered her faith and then moved toward mine. I reached for the copy of the Tao Te Ching that I keep in my car. I decided to open it to a random page and allow the words to inspire how I interacted with my dad in this taxing conversation.
The words from Chapter 48:
In the pursuit of knowledge,
every day something is added.
In the practice of the Tao,
every day something is dropped.
Less and less do you need to force tings,
until finally you arrive at non-action.
When nothing is done,
nothing is left undone.
True mastery can be gained
by letting things go their own way.
It can’t be gained by interfering.
I read the chapter twice in the car while sitting in the driveway. I took the message to heart. Rather than forcing any issues or decisions, I would work with my dad in an actively passive way to help him move toward safety.
Over the next two months, the words of Chapter 48 carried me through. I took action when my dad called for it. I mostly offered advice when asked for it. The times when I offered unsolicited guidance, I met the most resistance. Yet even in those instances, once I retreated from pressure, my dad followed my path. The less I tried to do, the more he asked me to do. And I did.
In the weeks since his death, I’ve continued letting things go their own way. What comes of it is what’s right for me. Passively active like the ocean moved by the moon. Actively passive like a river rolling through the open space of a canyon. I am here, letting things go there own way without interfering.
