When I was sixteen, my neighbor asked me to house-sit for him. In Pleasant Valley, a neighbor was anyone who lived within about five miles; it depended more on the person’s persuasion than his proximity. My neighbor left me with several tasks, including driving the truck into the pasture and putting out hay daily for his cows.
“It’s a nice treat for them in the summer and it makes it easier to count them,” he told me.
On the first day, I loaded the bales into the truck, drove to the pasture, spread the hay, and counted forty-five cows. He had told me not to worry if the count was a little off daily but that the average should be fifty-five. I thought there was no way I lost ten cows on the first day. The next day, I only counted forty-five again, and every day after that until, he and his family returned.
We stood in the kitchen, and he asked me how everything went.
“Good.”
“How were the cows?”
“I counted fifty every day,” I hedged.
“Fifty?”
“Well, fifty-five some days.”
“Nate,” he leaned forward, “that’s too many. I only have forty-five cows.”
I’d been caught in a blatant lie. One that undermined my credibility and the trust he had put in me to watch his place.
Rule 8 in Jordan Peterson’s book is, Tell the truth — or, at least, don’t lie. It is the easiest rule of his 12 Rules For Life to remember and one of the hardest to practice. He posits that lying is a self-betrayal that weakens your character to the point that inevitable adversity “will mow you down when it appears.” He says, “If you betray yourself, if you say untrue things, if you act out a lie, you weaken your character.” As an example, Peterson discusses Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago and how Soviet citizens propped up the despotic regime of Joseph Stalin, “where millions suffered and died,” by falsifying their own day-to-day experiences.
It reminds me of Pontius Pilate asking, “What is truth?” To the man who claimed to be The Truth. Even those who do not believe in the divinity of Christ must surely see there is something revelatory, an underlying reality of existence, you might say, in the story. A man is brought before a state official who represents the most powerful empire known to man. The man is guilty of no crime, but the political system has ossified to the degree that even the most powerful government representative cannot stop what has been set in motion—namely, the state execution of someone innocent.
There is a reason why when we partake of the Lord’s Supper, we are enjoined to remember, “On the night he was betrayed…” The passion story seems to teach us that you can abandon the truth and deny the truth, as eleven of the disciples did, and still be reconciled to it, but if you betray the truth, that action will consume you.
People have strong opinions about Jordan Peterson. I know people on the right who adore him and people, also on the right, who abhor him. It is not hard to find those on the left who detest him, but fair is fair; some on the left respect him as well. The first time I encountered Peterson was in Canada around 2016. My oldest brother took me to a discussion between him and Sam Harris. I was impressed by him.
A few years ago, as I began to put my life together, moving from doubt toward belief and from being unhealthy to healthy, I decided to listen to Jordan Peterson’s lectures on Genesis. Peterson is an excellent lecturer and writer. He has gained his knowledge partly because he is willing to talk and listen to people who do not share his opinions.
Part of why the lockdowns were so disastrous, why working from home is not ideal, and why not embodying places will have aftershocks that shake the future is that people need other people to maintain their sanity. Peterson writes, “People organize their brains with conversation. If they don’t have anyone to tell their story to, they lose their minds.”
How many fractured relationships have you seen where through tragedy, such as death, or malice, such as betrayal, someone is left alone for too long? When you talk to her, she sounds crazy. Another example that is becoming all too common is those whose interactions with others have been diminished. Many people have the option to work remotely, to shop online, and to worship online. Doctors’ appointments and counseling sessions can all be done online. When you have a face-to-face conversation with someone conditioned only to have face-to-screen conversations, they have often gone nuts. This is because, as Peterson succinctly puts it, “We outsource the problem of our sanity.” We use other people’s reactions to keep ourselves operating correctly. This is all detailed in Rule 9: Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t.
I would like to close with Rule 7: Pursue what is meaningful (not what is expedient).
What comes to mind is a Sunday at the little community church in Pleasant Valley. Before we had a permanent pastor, it was decided that church members would share for a few minutes on Easter. My mom read a piece of poetry and played a song on a CD. There was a couple who did a skit. One of the men who helped found the church and often preached took the stage. He propped his classical guitar up on his leg and said he would play a piece by Bach, Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. I’d never seen anyone hold a guitar like that. Then he began to play, and I had never heard anyone play a guitar like that.
He’d often strummed out I’ll Fly Away or How Great Thou Art, but this music was different. The spring sunlight came through the windows, the congregation sat still on the wooden pews, and his fingers plucked out a transcendent melody.
Strangely, it is more meaningful to me now than when he played it, perhaps because I appreciate the difficulty and depth of what he did. It takes discipline and courage to do something that might not even be appreciated in the moment but has a timelessness.
Peterson wrote, “What is expedient works only for the moment. It’s immediate, impulsive, and limited. What is meaningful, by contrast, is the organization of what would otherwise merely be expedient into a symphony of Being.”
That’s just it; I once heard a symphony of Being at a little country church in Pleasant Valley. It only took me two decades to realize it.
Rule 1 / Stand up straight with your shoulders back
Rule 2 / Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping
Rule 3 / Make friends with people who want the best for you
Rule 4 / Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today
Rule 5 / Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them
Rule 6 / Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world
Rule 7 / Pursue what is meaningful (not what is expedient)
Rule 8 / Tell the truth – or, at least, don't lie
Rule 9 / Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don't
Rule 10 / Be precise in your speech
Rule 11 / Do not bother children when they are skateboarding
Rule 12 / Pet a cat when you encounter one on the street
You can tell how much I’ve gotten out of a book by how many pages I’ve dog-eared.
Great read, Nate. I enjoyed this.
I wonder if those 12 rules came from the Bible?