“Let’s say store consciousness is like the Earth, which contains all the seeds. And the seeds that you water will grow into plants.” – Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh

“The lowest in you is the source of mercy.
He who goes into the one and not also at the same time into the other by accepting what comes toward him, will… consider the other approaching him as his enemy… because he fails to recognize that the other is also in him… He thus fights the other and is completely blinded.
He who accepts what approaches him because it is also in him quarrels and wrangles no more, but looks into himself and keeps silent. He sees the tree of life, whose roots reach into Hell and whose top touches Heaven. He also no longer knows differences. He knows only one difference – the difference between below and above.” – The Red Book, by C. G. Jung

In a conversation with a friend, the idea of tolerance came up. My friend believed he was generally a tolerant person, both toward environmental circumstances and toward other people.

At the time, I struggled to articulate what was on my mind. All I could say was,
“But you are missing something… the heart, emotions?”

As the days passed, the picture gradually began to clarify.

Tolerance vs. Acceptance — Intellect vs. the Heart

As I journey through my inner landscape, using breathing as a source of light and attention whenever I encounter stirrings in the heart or shadowy crevices within my consciousness, I begin to see the truth in this Buddhist teaching: within our consciousness lie all kinds of seeds.

Some seeds come from experiences I clearly remember. Others arise from subtle movements of feeling that I barely noticed and quietly pushed down into the subconscious. Still others may come from deeper layers — traumas experienced by myself or carried across generations, buried within the unconscious. It is said that generational trauma can pass down through as many as seven generations.

If I reject any of these seeds/traits within myself, I cannot see them clearly in my conscious mind. Yet they remain within me. My surroundings then act like a mirror, reflecting back what I carry inside. Through other people, I encounter the parts of myself I cannot yet see.

Because I rejected these traits in the first place, when I see them in others, I reject them again. The intensity of my rejection often corresponds to how deeply those traits are suppressed within me.

Yet society and religion often place expectations on us to behave in certain ways — to be proper, kind, polite, and tolerant of differences. So outwardly I comply. I accept others through the discipline of my mind.

In other words, I tolerate intellectually — but not from the heart.

There is a difference.

This kind of tolerance can quietly work against myself. It asks me to go along with something that I have not yet integrated within my own being — something I may have instinctively rejected because of the pain, shame, insecurity, or other difficult emotions associated with it. Over time, that process can become exhausting. If repeated often enough, I may gradually lose touch with my emotional self while strengthening the dominance of my rational mind. I become less real.

At the same time, I may unknowingly develop a subtle sense of superiority toward the person I am tolerating.

Meeting the Shadow

If I flip the coin of tolerance to its other side, a question arises: What exactly is it that I dislike so strongly? What traits trigger my resistance?

If I look deeply enough, perhaps there is something within myself that I have not yet recognized or accepted.

Finding the shadow and integrating it into my being reminds me of a childhood game — Pac-Man. In the game, Pac-Man encounters obstacles, threats, and challenges. But when he manages to overcome them — by absorbing them — he immediately gains points and strength from them.

The shadow seems to work in a similar way. Once it is identified, acknowledged, and accepted, its negative energy — such as judgment — begins to dissolve, along with its hidden power over the subconscious. What is positive behind the shadow can then emerge, remembered, and become integrated into my being.

Jung referred to this when he wrote that “the lowest in you is the source of mercy.”

What I acknowledge and accept within myself becomes part of the dark soil “below.” By accepting it, I reduce resistance and negativity, creating more space in that “below” for my roots to grow strong and deep. From those roots, what is “above” can grow healthy and reach toward the heavens. 

Mercy allows, for myself and for others.  It turns into silent strength, nurtures creativity, nurtures life.

A painting often comes to mind when I think about shadows. The beautiful colors and light within a painting depend on darker tones to reveal their depth and brilliance. One cannot exist fully without the other.

Seen this way, the things that trigger me — the traits I feel I must tolerate — may actually be opportunities for growth.

Becoming More Whole

As I travel deeper into my own consciousness, unwanted traits gradually surface. Often they are not recognized the first time they appear. I may be distracted by circumstances, or I may simply lack the awareness to see them clearly.

Jung wrote:

“We thus fear our lowest, since that which one does not possess is forever united with the chaos and takes part in its mysterious ebb and flow.”

Little by little, as I accept these aspects when they appear — recognizing them as different parts of myself — I begin to feel more whole: less divided, less blinded by ignorance or pride.

The territory of what I fear begins to shrink. In its place, there is greater peace.

From that clarity, I can choose more consciously which seeds I wish to water, cultivate and nurture them into full plants.

When I see those same traits I previously rejected in others, I can simply understand. Those traits simply exist. I can respect their paths, their choices, and allow them the space to walk their own journeys.

No sense of superiority.

All will be okay.

We all have our own paths to travel.

In my own journey, I choose which seeds to nurture and what energy I wish to surround myself with. In this way, I no longer need to tolerate very often. Respect and space naturally take their proper place.

From Self-Acceptance to Compassion

Perhaps love for others grows naturally out of love for oneself. Perhaps when acceptance deepens within, it radiates outward as well. Perhaps this is simply how energy moves — greater cohesion within reflecting greater harmony without.

In the Golden Flower texts, emotions are described as the foundation of human consciousness, with logos as the effecting energy and intuition as the substance — interwoven and interconnected. Intuition arises from the combination of emotion and logos. In the texts, they are compared to the elements of water, fire, and earth.

If this is true, then emotions should not be dismissed by the intellect. Yet in our society, they often are.

“The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” – Albert Einstein

When I disconnect from my emotions — or yield to the rational mind to dominate and subjugate them — my inner structure becomes unbalanced. My intellect may become one-sided without the support of emotion and intuition.

So the question arises:

How do I relate to myself?
And how do I relate to others at a deeper level?

How can a bond form that goes beyond surface-level intellectual interaction — a bond that nourishes the soul?

Perhaps it requires something deeper than tolerance.

Perhaps it requires acceptance.

When I shared these thoughts with my friend, I asked him:

“People can sense the energy directed toward them. So who would want to be merely tolerated?”

He paused for a moment, thought about it, and then said,

“You should write about this.”

Side note: The opposite applies as well. The traits I admire in another person may also exist within me, waiting to be explored, trusted, and nurtured.  It is also wonderful to recognize the hidden strength within.