‘Out of the box’ – Reflection Désanne van Brederode on the opening Walk of Wisdom

Dear attendees,

All of you are familiar with the expression “out-of-the-box” thinking. ‘Out-of-the-box’ thinking is not much different than approaching a theme imaginatively, creatively, originally, spontaneously and ideally also unpredictably – where the thoughts do not necessarily have to be realistic, and there is no need to consider the possible practical applicability of some brilliant or striking idea.

In the end, ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking always pays off, is the assumption. Something you can use to your advantage. Long-term profits.

The phrase “out-of-the-box” thinking suggests that all other thinking is “inside-the-box” thinking. We don’t realize it, but as soon as we start thinking, we lock ourselves in a box. Even if it is invisible, the mere thought of such a box can be oppressive.

And what kind of box is it?

A rectangular, shoebox-sized one? One that, with a bit of good will, you can turn into a diorama?  Or a large cardboard box –  in which refrigerators and washing machines are transported? Is it a kind of ‘black box’ that stores all the information from the cockpit, in case of an emergency? A red or a blue box? A round, flowered hat box with a big pink bow on top? Does only our head fit into this thinking-box, or are we, as soon as we think, enveloped in our box from head to feet? 

What about our freedom of movement? 

You see, as soon as we start thinking about the imaginative thinking box, we immediately think ourselves out of the box. We recognize that we are thinking ‘inside-the-box’, we try to imagine this box, and in no time at all we find ourselves ‘out-of-the-box’ again. At least if we start thinking about the outside of our box. No one has had to encourage us to think ‘out-of-the-box’: it happened before we knew it.

This proves that our thoughts are many times freer than we are: they can set us free, even before we asked for liberation. Better: even before we knew we were imprisoned. 

Before the expression ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking came into vogue, we simply called it ‘stepping off the beaten track’. That’s a much friendlier term. And a broader term, because you can not only think outside the box, but also act, or live.

This expression also suggests that most of the time we think and live and feel and act within the beaten track.

And the value judgement is not far away either. 

The beaten path is the path for those frightened, boring, colorless, easygoing, parroting the big screamers, mediocre herd animals, who organize their lives as the majority of people do. So, all that ‘… Just go about his business.’

If there is one type of person who knowingly chooses to walk the beaten path, it is the pilgrim. And he gives as a reason that he wants to break free from habits, to be free from everyday hustle and bustle, worries and pleasures, far away from the familiar and sometimes oppressive state of affairs. Of course, this can also be done by simply going on holiday.

Liberation, freedom is therefore not the only goal for the pilgrim.

He (or she) wants something else: he wants to meet himself. His ‘true’ self. His essence. While walking in the often centuries-old footsteps of others, the pilgrim hopes to gain new insights. Finding the courage to finally quit his job. Or to find the strength to reconcile himself to a divorce he never wanted. Or to make space to deeply experience the mourning for his deceased loved one, where the tears are allowed to flow freely. Or to collect impressions for songs yet to be written.

Some pilgrims want to overcome certain fears. A few want to prove that they are capable of long, solitary contemplation – drawing inspiration along the way from the devout texts of saints and mystics and philosophers. All from the desire that this will lead to a fraction more wisdom. 

You would almost think: “If the pilgrim already knows so well in advance what he wants to let go of and what he wants to achieve, why doesn’t he just stay at home – to practice that calm step and that uninhibited, receptive attitude of the pilgrim in the midst of the familiar life?”

In other words, hasn’t the one who starts thinking about the box in which he is locked up long since escaped from the box? Hasn’t the person who chooses the beaten pilgrim’s path deviated from the beaten path a long time ago? Yes and no.

In addition to courage, the pilgrim inadvertently also develops wavering courage.

Indeed, he or she can gradually overcome his fear of stray dogs. But he can suddenly develop a fear of thunderstorms along the way, when he experiences how lightning suddenly strikes in an oak tree right next to him.
The mourning for his wife can become softer, milder – but he can get new, painfully abrasive, grief with it, for example if he has to think back more and more often to his father who died young, from whom he has never really been able to say goodbye and with whom he still had so much  to sort out.

In short, the pilgrimage offers all kinds of things, but rarely only what was intended. That is only bad for people who stubbornly cling to the idea that every undertaking, and every reflection or thinking exercise, should yield something. That you have to win something with everything: “You let go of a leaden burden, but you get double gold in return. And that’s what you do it all for and have wanted to do it for.”

Can someone still be such a successful ‘out-of-the-box’ thinker, averse to beaten paths, according to him also dead ends – as long as he keeps asking about what this reflection ultimately brings someone, he proves that he has understood nothing about pilgrimages, but also nothing about human life itself. That he voluntarily allowed himself to be locked up in the biggest, most tragic fallacy imaginable: that everything ‘should be of use to you’.

That you have to get ‘better’ from everything.

While the pilgrim discovers that everything can always be different, even less, and that sometimes after just a few hours of hard work in dog weather, with a sore back, and mosquito bites, and blisters under your feet, there is little left of your beautiful intentions and wishes. Your self-image takes a hit, you are annoyed by the lofty, beautiful texts you have brought with you, and you are very disappointed that passers-by are unfriendly, no matter how hard you smile, that that one café on the route is closed today, that you have nowhere to charge your mobile while you also turn out to be unexpectedly homesick and, After years, I crave a cigarette.

See, that’s it. Walking with it, sometimes stoically, sometimes with the courage of despair: that is the real out-of-the-box thinking, treading the real unbeaten path, for a real encounter with a real part of yourself – the least beautiful, the most vulnerable, the most childish, petty and unreasonable part. And none of that yields anything. It doesn’t make you better, it doesn’t make life any better; The cloaks of love and the pious white lies are gone, and suddenly you realize, with your mouth full of teeth and shabby, because empty-handed, what the word “truthfulness” could mean.

Anyone who has ever come face to face with truthfulness will no longer have to go in or out of boxes. Never again. No need to wear a helmet anymore, with a visor that you can open and close at will. He no longer needs armor, calluses on the soul, a twinkling self-image, and no more thoughts about beaten and unbeaten paths.
As long as he keeps moving and recognizes them: all those other people who, still in a box or already out of the box, are looking for true fellow pilgrims. Against the grain.

Relieved of the pressing question of how big the profit will be. 

Désanne van Brederode

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Photo: Ger Loeffen