I’ve been reading The Immortal Diamond by Richard Rohr, and early on I had one of those moments where I put the book down, stared out the window, and thought, Oh… that’s what he means.

The line that kept coming back is this:

“True Being naturally expresses itself as Doing.”

At first glance, that sentence can sound dangerously close to something that might get you accused of “spiritual bypassing” or “doing nothing while calling it enlightenment.”

Many Principal practitioners, myself included, keep saying things like “Do nothing.”

Fair concern.
Also… not what Rohr is saying.

Rohr isn’t trying to turn us into monks who cancel meetings and stare lovingly at houseplants.

The heart of the book is this distinction between the false self and the True Self.

The false self is the résumé version of you. Pretty much everything you think you are.
The one that worries about how things look, whether you’re doing enough, and if people will notice.

The True Self is what’s left when that whole performance relaxes.
It’s not fragile.
It doesn’t need applause.
And importantly (wait for it). It’s not lazy.

Rohr uses the image of a diamond buried deep inside us. It doesn’t need polishing. It needs uncovering. Which is both comforting and mildly annoying, because it means there’s less for us to fix.

“You are everything you have been looking for.”

Where I think many of us get tangled up

Somewhere along the way, we picked up this idea that:

• Being = passive, checked out, possibly sitting on a cushion, humming.
• Doing = effort, productivity, impact, contribution

So when someone like Rohr emphasizes Being, part of us quietly panics.

“If I stop striving, will anything get done?”
“Will I still pay the bills?”
“Will people think I’ve ‘gone spiritual’?” (Trust me, they will anyway)

Valid questions. I’ve asked all of them. Possibly while pacing.

Here’s the shift Rohr points to early in the book:

When we operate from the false self, our “Doing” is usually fueled by insecurity.
Proving. Fixing. Controlling. Overthinking.
A lot of motion… not always a lot of wisdom.

But when we’re grounded in Being, Doing doesn’t stop.

It just stops being so noisy. There is no thinking.

“What Syd said…”

From a Three Principles understanding lens, this makes complete sense.

Sydney Banks said it in his own wonderfully direct way:

“When personal thinking quiets down, wisdom rises to the surface.”

Notice what he didn’t say.
He didn’t say, “Sit still until further notice.”
He didn’t say, “Avoid action.”

He pointed to the source of effective action. (The elusive zone)

Some of the most impactful moments in my life didn’t come from careful planning. They came from clarity. From being settled enough that the next step was obvious.

I’ve seen this on high-stress calls, in leadership roles, and in coaching conversations where, afterward, someone says,
“I don’t know how I knew to say that… it just came out.”

That’s not magic.
That’s “Being” doing the heavy lifting.

Why this actually makes you more effective

Here’s the quiet irony.

When we try really hard to be effective, we usually get in the way.

When we’re less tangled in thought, decisions are simpler, timing improves, less struggle and the impact increases.

Not because we’re smarter. Because we’re clearer.

Or as Syd would say:

“Wisdom does not come from thinking. It comes in the absence of thought.”

Which I find both deeply reassuring and mildly offensive to my overthinking habit.

My Takeaway

You don’t need to add Being to your life.
You don’t need to practice it.
You don’t need to protect it.

You only need to stop mistaking anxious doing for effectiveness.

Rohr isn’t inviting us to do less. He’s inviting us to trust Being more.

To notice that when we’re settled, action just happens, insights show up, and our contribution feels free and lighter.

So if you’re worried that slowing down will somehow stall your life, take heart. It is not my experience.

Because when Being is trusted, Doing takes care of itself.

And if a Franciscan priest and an enlightened welder from Salt Spring Island are both pointing to the same truth, it’s probably worth slowing down long enough to feel it for yourself.

Much love,