2015/10/25

Would you rather be right or happy?

This oft-quoted question comes from "A Course in Miracles" and in a variety of flavors.

Which do you prefer: being right or being happy?

Would you rather be right or happy?

Correct or happier?

These words float around the Internet, have been written about in pop psychology, and are, I suspect, words some might write off fairly quickly as a platitude. Or quackery.

But this is an important question to consider.

No, I do not mean you should not take a stand for what you believe in, for what you think is truly right and just. Indeed, Truth propels us to do just this: to shine our light in little ways every day. We are called by Truth to shine the way only we can and to make a stand for Truth: for what is beautiful, for what is just, for what is right.

But making a stand for right is not the same as being right.

When we take a stand for what is right, we shine our light into the world. This we do by being creative, by being generative, by making a positive difference. We do it by accepting what is--just as it is--and doing something to effect positive change. We are intent to look at the way things are in the now, to truly face the present state of affairs without the need to judge, and to subsequently engage in the constructive work that will result in positive, substantive change.

When we try to be right, we move into a dualist space of mind, affixing values of positive and negative, right and wrong, good and bad to life. We abstract ourselves from the present and then judge the situation, taking stock of what is and explaining--arguing--why what we believe is right to the exclusion of other ideas. We get to experience righteous indignation. We get to experience being right. We put ourselves up on a shelf and then go to town judging and finding fault. This allows us a relatively safe place from which to operate: there are fewer spaces to occupy that are safer from criticism and blame than one firmly rooted in criticism and blame. Or, at least, it appears so.

If I am arguing for a position and against another, I get to harden my heart and make every other voice wrong. The result is a veritable fortress around my heart, my emotional body. I'm tapping into that righteous indignation, that invincible feeling that I'm right and you're wrong, and there's nothing you can say or do that will convince me otherwise. You lose and I win.

But do I really?

Just what do I sacrifice to be right and maintain my righteousness?

I lose access to other modes of thinking. If I am busy digging in my heels and plugging my ears while I rattle off reasons I'm right, I cannot very well entertain many alternatives.

I lose my connection to others. A very dear friend of mine once told me, with so much perceptiveness and clarity, that we all have a strong proclivity to seek first to be understood and only then to understand. Even if we don't mean first to seek understanding, it often happens that way in our choice of topic of conversation. This is not bad or wrong; it is quite natural. It is perhaps because we equate understanding with love and acceptance. If the person with whom I am talking understands me, I feel accepted, validated. However, if I am bent on being right, then this can be damaging. I may get carried away and seek not understanding but unconditional surrender. I may debate and argue logically, but even this may hurt my connection to the person with whom I am talking depending on our relationship and my interlocutor's worldview, self-esteem, sociocultural background. And if I pull out all the stops and do everything in my power to show how right I am--and therefore how wrong (s)he is--then this can be very detrimental indeed.

The need to be right can result in limited ability to consider points of view and new information thereby narrowing the possibilities for our worldview. And it can cause isolation and separation. Ultimately, it can cut us off from our very capacity for the gentleness, compassion, and openness that are the source of all those warm and fuzzy feelings that make us feel best.

After all, we only have what we practice. If I practice criticism and judgment of people, places, and things and cleave to my need to be right in my thinking and opinion, this may first only apply to all outside me, to the secondary relationships in my life. It is, however, only a matter of time before it seeps into my primary relationship: the relationship I have with myself.

This need to be right then manifests itself as perfectionism, as worry, and as hindsight-is-20/20 thinking. This is a very real phenomenon that occurs when I make an error and upon realizing it react with judgment and "should-have" expressions. "Dang it--I know better than that. If only I'd..." Or "I knew I should have..."

You see, if I engage in hindsight-is-20/20 thinking, I get to salvage my rightness even after I've made the wrong choice, made a mistake, erred in some way. By acknowledging my mistake and immediately criticizing myself, censuring myself, castigating myself, I get to feel that while I might have made an error, I am more acutely aware of it than anyone and so whatever else might be said, it's no match for my own disdain for the whole affair.

This may sound contrived, preposterous, to you. But I can assure you that I've experienced variants of hindsight-is-20/20 thinking in my own patterns of behavior and I have also seen and heard many others engage in it to varying degrees. It is subtle, insidious.

Of course, I may opt never to see myself as wrong. This is most isolating of all. I may lash out at others when their opinion differs from my own. I may choose to criticize them mercilessly. The gloves come off, we clash, and I maintain my rightness.

But at what cost to interpersonal relationships? What cost to my relationship with myself?

The truth is that being right is not at all the same as taking a stand for right, for truth, for justice.

Say that I hate poverty, really hate it. I have all sorts of opinions about why poverty happens and who is ultimately responsible for it in my society. I can tell people about it, cry and lament over it, argue and debate about it. But hating it will do nothing to change the reality. My righteous indignation is about as useful as spitting on a fire in hopes of extinguishing it.

On the other hand, if I want to take a stand, I can help distribute food at food banks, volunteer with political causes I believe in, write letters to individuals and organizations that can make a difference. This is where change can take place.

Ultimately, the problem is not so much with being right or wrong. These are just concepts, after all. The problem is with the persistent need to be right, to justify, to attach.

When we have awareness, we see that Truth does not need our cleaving, our arguments, our justification. It just keeps on being true. People can doubt, can choose not to believe. This is their prerogative, their choice, their business. It does not negate the truth or erode it in the least. When we have awareness of this fact--when we have a visceral sensation about the truth of this concept--we can rest assured in this. And the need to be right falls away and we are free to be happier.

Right or happy?

You don't need to be right to rest in your knowledge of your truth. What others believe--that is their business. Your truth can be yours and you can also respect theirs. And then you are free to respect and accept them, to give them the understanding and acceptance they seek. You can hold your own truth and theirs and not fret and worry about who is right because you know--really know-that the truth just keeps on keeping on without your help. You can hold so many concepts at once and not bat an eyelash when someone tries to force their truth on you. Because you know that it doesn't matter.

What matters is being happy.

And that is the truth.