As the Paradigm Shifts | A modern take on an old Zen proverb

Before Enlightenment—Cook Meals, Do Laundry. After Enlightenment—Cook Meals, Do Laundry

||| AS THE PARADIGM SHIFTS by ROSIE KUHN |||

My client, Badrah—a Pakistani woman living in Texas with her husband and two teenage sons—has traveled through the depths of depression into glimmers of something far greater than relief. Not quite chasing enlightenment, and certainly not subscribing to it as a goal, she simply wants to suffer less.

She came to work with me almost two years ago, both to relieve the ache of anxiety and depression, and also to train as a transformational coach. Weaving personal work with professional training has allowed her to experience something new: self-empowerment in a life that had long been dominated by self-deprecation.

Self-Deprecation—Is It the Voice of Reason?
And that’s how it is for so many people who struggle with depression. The constant inner litany of “I’m not enough,” “I should be different,” “I’ll never get this right” grows thick like moss—feeding a sense of powerlessness, hopelessness, and helplessness. It’s not fun for anyone.

Badrah, like many of us, has been tightly identified with the roles she plays—wife, mother, daughter, sister. Her husband treats her poorly, so within her identity as a wife lives a deep sense of unworthiness. Her son is leaving for college, which brings the ache of being a mother without a child at home. In every shift of life’s seasons, she finds herself the victim of another loss.

She doesn’t yet know how to be free of these roles. Most of us don’t. Most of us don’t know how to locate ourselves inside the swirl of life circumstances—how to say with clarity: I am here… and I am not this. And so, like Badrah, we suffer.

In A Dream
In a recent session, Badrah shared a dream she’d had about her father, who passed away a little over a year ago. In the dream, her father gave each of his children a gift. To the first three, he handed over worldly possessions—things that were tangible, measurable. He turned to Badrah and gave her his wallet. She opened it. It was empty.

“Rosie. What does it mean?” she asked.

As is my way, I gently turned the question back to her. “Badrah, what does it mean to you?” “Well,” she said, “my father was very organized. Maybe he’s encouraging me to get my life in order… to make a plan.”

She paused. Then: “And… wallets hold your ID, your cards, your license. Maybe he’s telling me to discover my own identity—not the ones others gave me.”

Then she looked at me and asked, “Rosie… do you know your identity?”

I shook my head no.

I shared with Badrah that I used to think I was my roles—mother, wife, coach, author, daughter. But now, most of those identities have either changed or faded. I’ve watched them dissolve, one by one. I tried to keep some of them. I clung to the old shapes. But it only brought suffering.

Badrah looked confused. “Rosie, how do you know how to do what you need to do? I don’t understand!”

I told her, “I don’t know my identity. I only know that I am a Divine Expression of something essential—something true. What that means for me is that when I’m most me—when I’m present to myself with honesty and openness, whether I’m doing dishes or laundry, whether I’m sad or joyful—I’m practicing being free of my attachments to what my thoughts tell me I should have, what I should do, or what I should be. I practice freeing myself from all the shoulds: what I should feel, what I should do, what I should be. I’m just… me. I’m not always good at it, but I’m liking my life a whole lot better!

Badrah was raised Muslim. I wasn’t sure how familiar she was with the teachings of Buddha, so I offered her the Four Noble Truths: that all humans suffer because we are attached to our desires. And that freedom from suffering comes not by eliminating desires, but by releasing our attachment to them.

When we cling to our desires—cling to how life should be—we are generally disappointed, frustrated, resentful. And then we become identified with that! And… That’s suffering.

If we practice seeing how we are clinging, attached, identified, and if we allow ourselves to sense into the feelings of disappointment, frustration and resentment—to name just a few, we can perhaps become curious about what could happen when we loosen our grip! We can become curious about what unfolding mysteries are right in front of us, but we can’t yet see. And maybe—just maybe—we begin to reclaim our innocence and the delight inherent just in being, while doing laundry, cooking meals!

Even though my sessions with Badrah are on Zoom, I felt a shift across the screen. I saw Badrah’s beautiful essence reveal itself in that moment. Something clicked for Badrah and her whole being lit up. BREATHTAKING!!!!

“I never understood it like this before,” she said. “Now I really get it!”

And she did. It wasn’t just an aha moment—it was a coming home. A coming home to herself, to her own knowing—to her father’s gift of an empty wallet. She saw it so clearly: up until now, she’d filled that wallet only with the identities and expectations of others. Now she can fill it anyway she wants!

“I have to stop thinking about what everyone else thinks,” she said. “I have to start living my life.” Then came the inevitable, sacred twist: “Yes, but, Rosie.… I have laundry to do.

Cooking. Cleaning. How do I be me while I’m doing all that?”

I smiled and shared the Zen proverb: “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

“In your case, Badrah,” I said, “before enlightenment: cook meals, do laundry. After enlightenment: cook meals, do laundry.” She burst into laughter. “But it is different now!” And she’s right. The outer life might look the same, but the inner experience has changed—perhaps even transformed.

Badrah will go back into her daily rhythms—laundry, meals, mothering, living—but with curiosity. With wonder. With that growing awareness of who she truly is underneath it all. And that is the greatest gift.

It doesn’t matter where we live or what religion we practice. It doesn’t matter our gender, culture or economic status. What matters is this: how we relate to what we believe is true. If we cling to our truths with tight fists—if we let them define our worth—we suffer. If we allow those truths to evolve, to soften, to deepen into compassion, we experience something perhaps we’d always wanted but never knew how to get to!

Eventually—like Badrah, like me, like you—we all realize we are not who we think we are. We are not what we’ve been told to be.

And when that realization arrives—even in the midst of laundry or lentils—something sacred stirs. Something radiant begins to breathe. Something nobody can take from us.

Kind of cool, right?
For me, when I let go of what I should do and who I should be, in real time, the doing gets done. And I get to witness who’s doing the doing? No big spiritual anything! Just, perhaps a laugh in the kitchen while cooking a meal, when I say to myself, “Way to go, Rosie!!! and a sigh of delight easily arrives, with the delight of being just me.

(Badrah’s details have been altered and shared with permission. Her real name has been changed for confidentiality. And, her life has changed dramatically, choosing a career that speaks to her heart.)