I read a story this week about a monk who pointed to a boulder and asked his followers, “Is that rock heavy?” They all agreed that it was. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Not if you don’t carry it!”
It’s a classic story and it got me thinking about the things I carry and the heaviness I feel—a load that leads to fatigue, resentment and self-pity.
Many leaders today are carrying the weight of the world. A client said to me last week, “I just want to save the church and fix the world.” I laughed, “Oh, is that all?”
But I have plenty of weight of my own. Not only do I unconsciously carry the burdens of the generations of my family before me, I also carry a heavy load of my own making:
- The unrealistic expectations that others put on me.
- The unrealistic expectations that I put on myself.
- The unrealistic expectations that I put on others.
- The disempowering meanings that I make and get attached to and refuse to let go of.
- Tasks that aren’t my tasks and responsibilities that aren’t my responsibility.
The apostle Paul tells us to “bear one another’s burdens” and then just three verses later, he reminds us that “everyone should carry their own load.” Well, which is it? Among other things, Paul is naming the tension we feel between caring about other people vs. taking care of them.
Our care for other people can only work in healthy ways when each of us is ultimately responsible for ourselves.
Three questions from the activist community—people who definitely aren’t slackers when it comes to change-the-world energy—are designed to make us think about the sustainability of our burdens:
- What is there to carry?
- What is mine to carry?
- How will I carry it?
Taking responsibility for what I carry is harder than it sounds.
As a coach, I often ask my clients, “What belongs to you? What doesn’t belong to you?” I encourage them to only carry what belongs to them (including their care about other people in their lives) and to let the rest of the load be carried by those who own it or by no one. After all, not every load needs to be carried and some things are better left behind.
The monk’s story reminds me of another story I ran across years ago in the book Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World.
A man was at the foot of the mountain with an empty wagon, ready to climb to the top when God asks him to carry three rocks to the top of the mountain. The rocks aren’t very big and so the man agrees gladly, happy to do something for the Lord.
As he climbs, other travelers see his wagon and ask him to carry things for them. When he declines, they point out peevishly that he is already carrying three rocks; why can’t he take a little more?
Resentfully, he agrees until his wagon is full of rocks and he can barely pull the wagon. When he finally reaches the top of the mountain, God is waiting for him there and thanks him for carrying the three rocks. Exhausted and furious, the man empties his wagon, complaining about the weight of a wagon full of rocks.
“Hang on a minute,” says God. “I only asked you to carry three rocks. My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
From Bowen family systems theory, we learn that the source of our burnout is often not the amount of actual work we are doing but our tendency to get stuck to other people and absorb their anxieties and carry their emotional burdens. In other words, we exhaust ourselves carrying things that don’t belong to us and may not need to be carried at all.
Taking responsibility for what we are carrying is the first step toward a lighter load and a less burdensome life. A coach can help sort through the wagon – let us know how we can help.
