On Being Skillful (or, NOT)

I tend to be an action-oriented person. Someone with a "do it now" attitude.  

For the most part, this serves me well, except when it does not. I can recall many actions that got me into deep trouble.  

Here's one. About 20 years ago, I was on a late November sub-zero expedition into the Wind River Wilderness Area of Wyoming. On snowshoes with a 60lb pack on my back loaded with the climbing gear, I found myself snowshoeing many miles in the backcountry and confronted by a large, frozen alpine lake. My friend and I chose to venture out onto the ice. We had successfully crossed several other frozen lakes the day before, and this one seemed safe, as well.  

That choice turned out to be unskillful.

As we ventured across the lake, we started to see what appeared to be open water and decided to head toward the nearest shoreline. As we approached the cliffs lining the lakeside, the ice gave way, and I plunged into the frigid abyss. By some miracle, I had the awareness to get my ski poles above my head. From there, I was able to gain purchase on the frozen surface. Once stabilized, I shimmied my torso over the broken edge and pulled myself out of the frigid water. After that, an army crawl to the lakeshore brought me to the snow-covered bank where I was able to exit the potentially watery grave. 

Those actions were skillful (and providential).

I then quickly stripped off all of my clothes. I replaced them with ones not so soaked from my pack (thank God for mostly waterproof nylon!). My travel companions (who had not fallen through) helped set up my tent, where I proceeded to crawl into my sleeping bag until my blood and body warmed itself. My companions thankfully started a fire, strung a line across it, and dried out my water-soaked clothes.

I lived to share the story here.

According to Buddhist tradition, there are two kinds of action, skillful and unskillful. This distinction is significant because the terms skillful and unskillful, unlike the words good and bad, lack the tinge of morality or criticism.  

In modern culture, we've become accustomed to judging ourselves, other people, and circumstances as good or bad, right or wrong, and true or false. Cable news, the internet, and other forms of electronic media amplify this "judgment." Sadly, all this judgment is not all that helpful (especially if you are fighting for your life to exit a frozen lake).

When taking action (or refraining from doing so), you are skillful when you see and understand things. When seeing possibilities and exploring them, it's a matter of seeing clearly rather than relying on good intentions or warm feelings. In the case of crossing the frozen lake, I did not see the situation clearly. I took a short cut out of a desire to get to our destination more quickly. While I had already safely passed over several smaller lakes earlier that day, I inaccurately assumed the larger one was also safe. That was an error - a mistake. I paid the price, and thankfully, not the ultimate price. 

In the Buddhist tradition, skillful actions are those taken which are free from desire, free from hatred, free from mental confusion. Positively speaking, they are motivated instead by clarity, generosity, or the impulse to share and to give, by love and compassion, and by understanding. 

I've found over the years that with wisdom and understanding, I take more skillful action, and I am better at refraining from unskillful action, although I admit that I am not perfect and still commit errors. I also know that I will never be completely skillful, and I am at peace with that.  

I also find that I am most skillful in my actions when I respond to people and circumstances from a state of peacefulness and tranquility. As Viktor Frankl once said: "Between stimulus and response, there is a space." It's in the "space" that I breathe, quiet my mind, and ask: "what action (if any) is needed here?"

While I have a tendency toward action (skillful or not), I am aware that many other people prefer to assess and analyze situations before they act. Still, others want to know that everyone who could be affected by the action will be in accordance. I sympathize with both of these perspectives and am learning to embrace them more. However, one consequence is that they can lead to "the paralysis of analysis" where the action is not taken in time, and opportunities are lost. In the extreme, the habit of not taking action can lead to laziness.

In the Dhammapada, we learn that: "He who does not rouse himself when it is time to rise, who, though young and strong, is full of sloth, whose will and thought are weak, that lazy and idle man will never find the way to knowledge." And, "watching his speech, well restrained in mind, let a man never commit any wrong with his body! Let a man but keep the road of action clear, and he will achieve the way which is taught by the wise."

Similarly, in The Meditations, we have the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, entreating himself: " In taking action be neither grudging, nor selfish, nor ill-advised, nor constrained. Let not your thought be adorned with overmuch nicety. Be not a babbler or a busybody. Let the God within direct you as a manly being, as an elder, a statesman, a Roman, and a ruler, standing prepared like one who awaits the recall from life." And, "Let no action be done at random, nor otherwise than in complete accordance with the principles involved. Do every deed, speak every word, think every thought in the knowledge that you may be at the end of your days at any moment." 

One final thought. As a young man, my father frequently reminded me that there are sins (errors) of commission and omission. My tendency is toward the former. For those of you who tend toward the latter, the Emperor reminds us that: 

"Men are often unjust by omissions as well as by actions. If you see your way, proceed in it calmly, inflexibly. If you do not see it, pause and consult the best advisers. If any other obstacles arise, proceed with prudent caution, according to the means you have, always keeping close to what appears just."

And, if you ever find yourself falling through a frozen lake, remember: "arms up!"

David Langiulli is an executive coach and trainer who helps nonprofit leaders flourish and thrive. He’s also the author of A Life with Peace and Tranquility (from which this article was adapted) and The Stoic Way of Leadership.