fəˈläsəfē/
noun
noun: philosophy
1. the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline.
a particular system of philosophical thought.plural noun: philosophies
“Schopenhauer’s philosophy”
the study of the theoretical basis of a particular branch of knowledge or experience.”the philosophy of science”
synonyms:
thinking, thought, reasoning “the philosophy of Aristotle”
It seems that each human has a personal philosophy, whether they define it as such, or not. This is demonstrated by what they consider to be right or wrong, what they value, and how they choose to live their lives. It seems probable that if we asked each person to discuss their philosophy, no two would be the same. Recognising this, it is becomes clear that the more coherently a person identifies and works on their own philosophy, the more enjoyable and directed their existence can potentially be. In all we do, consciousness has the power to add beauty and importance to our experiences. This can apply to anything from where we decide to go on our next vacation, to how we choose to react to the daily travel through our own mental, metaphysical and bodily processes. Developing cogent arguments for our choices does more than make us appear clever, it forces us to analyse why we do what we do, and helps us to make determined decisions that back up our personal beliefs.
In keeping with this BIG idea, I am compelled to lay down the fundamentals of my own working philosophy in a clear, thoughtful and comprehensive way. To that end, I will start with a list of some of my fundamental postulates and then undertake to explain them.
- Esse Quam Videri- To be, rather than to seem
- Mind is not distinct from body and body is not distinct from environment
- Selbstverantwortung- Answerability to yourself. Personal responsibility leads to personal freedom
- Human motives are elemental and simple (survival, love), but the ways of enacting those motives are varied and complex
- Passion vivifies experience
- Flexibility is the cornerstone of growth
- Learning increases the mind, thus expanding the universe
- Empathy reduces violence and stress while promoting understanding
- Anger is an emotional masquerade: deeper feelings playing dress up
- Understanding removes shackles
- Care of all things is care of one’s self
- Fear is the mind killer
- Life happens in increments, attend to the task at hand and mind where you are heading
- Do what thou wilt
- Magic is everywhere
- The golden rule (as exemplified by the dad song, “The only way to have a friend is to be one” and modified by the Cedar notion that treating other’s as they would have you treat them is more to the point than treating them as you would have them treat you. This recognises that humans have varying needs and desires and helps to circumvent superimposing our personal values on others)
- There are myriad tools everywhere, learn to use them, and not to be one
1. Esse Quam Videri
To be rather than to seem could be a personal motto, perhaps not the only one, but an essential one. I want to draw breath, exist, inhabit each moment, as a viable living creature that honours life. I don’t want to appear to do those things, to sell an image of myself, but rather to demonstrate my values in the way that I live. I want to take measure at any minute, hour, day, month, or year and find that it all adds up to a better me. I want to do the work that causes me to grow towards the sun.
I am continuously awed by the experience of being alive. I feel the texture of my embodied existence in an ever changing tapestry of sensation. As I sit here I hear the myriad voices of the birds, overlaying the flow of a temporary gutter stream, the soft patter of rain, the low thrum of electronics, the tap of the keys and the sound of my own heart and breath. I feel the coolness of the air on my skin, the warmth of my sheepskin slippers, the soft brush of cotton clothing, the varied smoothnesses of organic and inorganic materials where my arms rest on wood and my hands upon computer keys. I taste the residue of coffee with cream and sugar, the bitter, sweet, silky, rich, nutty full nuanced flavours that lead into the bodily experiences of increased heart rate and mental processing that the stimulant instigates. I see the room in which I sit, the living room beyond, and through the windows I glimpse bits of trees, honeysuckle, fuchsia, a section of roofing, hanging lights, dangling power lines and a bit of wooden lattice. I smell the subtle saltiness of my skin, the fading aroma of coffee, the earthy decay of compost, and the slightly sweet tang of sweat. All of these sensations are the work of a moment and already each sense organ is taking in something different. Whatever consumes my focus fills my person with new information and awareness. The more I concentrate on this, the more I see, feel, hear, taste and smell.
It is marvellous to be alive. Even in the darkest moments the amount that can be felt and experienced is limitless. In fact, the more pain I feel the more profound the pleasure I take in my good moments. Realising this, I am less inclined to shy away from pain. I recognise its benefits in addition to acknowledging that it is ultimately unavoidable. To live is to experience loss, injury, sickness, suffering and finally death. However, living also means, gains, vitality, health, joy, exhilaration and wonder. The fact that virtually everything has a counterpart creates more depth and breadth of possible experience.
Thus, for me, to be is to embrace life. To accept the world with its shifting faces, even when that means to subsequently reject portions of it and fight for change. To live in the moment and as Emerson said vie to live, “The greatest number of good hours.” This means to go beyond appearances, dig deeper and unearth the mysteries that abound when I allow myself to see more than meets the eye, to value more than what others perceive in me. It means moving away from commodifying everything, including myself, and to stop trying to sell an image.
This takes reflection, contemplation and patience. It means that I have to be honest with myself and take stock of where I am and where I am heading. To recognise when I am on a road that leads somewhere I’d rather not go and have the courage to change course, regardless of how much time and energy I have already invested.
The greatest human errors are rooted in an inability to do this, to let go and admit being wrong, or simply acknowledge not having the answers. Or, sometimes to recognise that the answers that have been supplied do not fit, do not provide wanted outcomes. There are matrices of consequence that often cannot be seen until damage has been done. It takes artful, thoughtful design to avoid unwanted results and even with that time and care, problems can ensue. This means that I have to retain hope, regardless of how steeply the odds appear to be stacked against me. I have to be as grass bending in the wind, but not breaking. It takes flexible, resilient strength to continue this fight to be a directed Being and not a ping pong ball.
2. Mind is not distinct from body and body is not distinct from environment
There is a maddening tendency in humans to reduce things in order to manage them. This causes us to leave huge portions of information out of our equations and to ignore sometimes vital particulars. Naturally, there are times when reduction is unavoidable, but it should certainly not be enacted as a matter of course. It is reductionist to attempt to split ourselves into discrete parts such as occurs in the mind vs. body problem. We are embodied minds or minded bodies. The very shape of our thinking is a process that is inextricably linked to the experiences of our bodies. The mapping of areas of the brain linked to certain behaviours can create a simplistic view of human processing. Nothing happens in a vacuum, the soup of our bodies is fluid and dynamic and the functions of each section of the central nervous system, the peripheral nervous system, the circulatory system, lymphatic system, organs and bones behaves in cooperation. All of that coordinated effort is continuously altered by the environment we inhabit at any given time.
We are in error when we reduce something in order to explain it. It is seductive, because we desire understanding of our experiences and of our world, and we want answers to the questions we ask. So, we cut away the “fat” (e.g.what we can’t understand) and reduce ideas to manageable pieces with provable results. Unfortunately, in so doing we shrink our awareness and ignore vital pieces of information. This is how we create giant messes, such as environmental degradation, that in turn set in motion chains of events that could conceivably make the planet uninhabitable.
On a more individual level, it is also how we make ourselves sick. If we treat the mind as though it can be dealt with apart from the body we find ourselves in trouble. One cannot take a pill which alters the chemistry of the brain without setting off a chain reaction in the body. Nor is it possible to harm the body without setting off a chain reaction which effects every internal structure including the brain.
It is far more functional to view everything as series of complex systems overlaying one another. Everything effects everything else, both internally and externally. Some of these effects are enormous, others so minuscule it is difficult to detect them. If we acknowledge this, we can then approach problems with a broader lens. This doesn’t mean trying to see every possible connection or predict every possible outcome. To do so, would be to paralyse ourselves. Too many variables overwhelm our minds and muddy the waters of understanding. Not that we necessarily have to understand either. We would do well to become more comfortable with how much we do not and may never know.
It is part of our natures to strive after knowing, we want order and reason to rule. However, that can also be a blunder, because we cannot know all. This frustrates us. We try once again to reduce, to make the bites more manageable, provable, coherent and concrete. We get into trouble again. The contradictions inherent in being alive and awake can be overwhelming. This can lead to fatigue, but if we attempt to be strong, healthy and engaged we can take it in stride. It can even become a welcome challenge, not simply a necessary facet of human experience. Taking things one step at a time, to keep from falling into catatonic immobility, will soon enough provide the opportunity for one to step back and again take a broader view. It is an incredible process, which is extraordinarily magical, deeply frustrating and immensely ridiculous. Here there are echoes of Camus and his absurdism, his reflection on the fundamental ambivalence of being alive and human.
This ambivalence makes it essential that we not to take ourselves too seriously. If we recognise that we have to choose our focus and narrow it at times in order to learn, we equally need to acknowledge that specialising means little if we don’t see the specialty’s role in the larger picture. This means interdisciplinary discussion, admission that one’s own view and understanding is not comprehensive.
In other words, it is knowing that in the greater puzzle, our specialised understanding provides but a piece. In essence, it is a holistic approach that celebrates the parts of the whole and attempts to reduce the antipathies of different perspectives by seeing disparate ideas as separate neural pathways in the same brain. This fosters the desire for mutual aid, rather than the urge to compete for dominance. We wouldn’t see the strength of our arms as a threat to the value of our legs, any more than we would damage the parts of our brain where language are housed because we are worried about neglecting those devoted to hearing. That would be ridiculous and so too is trying to divorce the brain from the body of which it is an integral part.
3. Selbstverantwortung
Responsibility to self is an invaluable modus operandi, provided I first remember to love myself. If I am responsible to a self, I’ve come to truly love, it is difficult to get too far off course. In honouring the higher me that I’m striving for, it becomes impossible to engage in bad behaviour for very long. I see how wasting time, being self destructive, vying for things I don’t truly value, hurting others, spiralling into negativity, surrounding myself with poor company, avoiding challenges, shying from growth, abusing my body or any of the myriad bad human behaviours that are available to sink into, is fundamentally counter to my purpose.
I become a just and fair judge and no longer simply critically judgemental. I come to acknowledge the asshole side of my brain and its subversive devices and I find humour in it. I see how undermining myself or others through incessant criticism and making everything impossible, is simply a vehicle of fear. I hold myself to the highest possible standard, based upon my own particular values, and no one else can possibly judge or condemn me, unless I myself have done so first.
I stop explaining away how I behave, making excuses when I fail to attain my standards, and simply acknowledge my mistakes and use them, learn from them, and fight like hell not to repeat them. I don’t feel sorry for myself anymore because I know that to live is not easy and that no one gets out of life unscathed. I don’t see my travails as attacks, but rather as a matter of course, the price of existence. I feel gratitude for my beautiful moments and no longer consider myself a victim of my ugly ones.
I don’t suddenly become perfect, but I love my desperately flawed and battered self and have compassion for my unfailing ability to fall into idiocy. I let things go, get over myself and take it easier on others when they blunder. I know that they too have to answer to themselves, and not to me.
4. Human Motives
It is yet another essential, in navigating this world, to understand the underlying causes of individual behaviour. If we think critically and observe the world around us, certain patterns begin to reveal themselves. For example, most people are motivated, at least to an extent, by their stomachs. Some are most concerned with filling them. Others are obsessed with not developing them. Still others with losing them. Another group are always belly aching. A disparate assemblage busily sucker punch them. So we have the starving (some by choice, many by poverty), the obese, the bodily obsessed, the hypochondriacs, and the vicious opportunists, to name but a few. Point being, virtually nobody forgets their belly for long.
Also in the realm of basic instinct is the need for shelter from the storm. This is could be summed up as self preservation. Our bodies are vulnerable and so we want housing and clothing to protect ourselves from the elements. We need protection not only from sun, wind, rain, snow, but also from the scrutiny, judgement, desire, attacks, and so forth of other animals. We want assurance that we will be protected from all the wild beasts, including our fellow two leggeds.
Another basic motive is thirst. It might be for actual water, and in the absence of this essential it is the only thing on anyone’s mind, but more often than not it is more subtle than that. A thirst for recognition, for power, for comfort, for security, for fame, for fortune, for revenge, for beauty, for wit, for style, etc. It is a salient part of humanity to long for things, to thirst for them, and to be driven by this longing. Which leads us to the fundamental source of longing: the desire to be loved.
Love is at the root of all evil. I didn’t set out to say that, but it’s actually true. It is also at the root of all good. It is the easily the most profound of motivating factors that drive human behaviour. It is not defined the same by any two people, and often behaviours are so far removed from anything that could properly be termed love, that it’s not always easy to see it as the source, but it is just the same. We are social beings, it is how we survived long enough to evolve (if you can properly term us evolved) into what we are today. It could be old fashioned biological imperative that started us on the path to seeking love, but it has burgeoned into something greater. Love derives some of its power from the fact that it helps to ensure survival (both because it encourages procreation and because beings that love one another will fight feverishly to protect one another) but what really catapults it to the top of the list of human motivators is that it biochemically makes us feel great. It’s a drug that acts upon our whole system, in a plethora of ways, providing tremendous rewards. It also makes us suffer, or worse, to go without it. Anyone who has read cases about orphan infants who died from lack of touch would be hard pressed to deny the importance of love to our survival.
So, we want to be loved. This drives our actions because it not only feels great, it also helps us to take care of our stomachs, our need for shelter and our thirst. It makes attaining our other basic needs easier and more fulfilling. Unfortunately, the pursuit of love looks very different from person to person and not everyone feels or recognises it in the same way. Also, the wounds people accumulate as children tend to shape whether and how they can feel and express love. If people don’t take the time to assess the shaping influences on their lives they may become incapable of feeling loved because they are so alienated from themselves and their actual needs that they don’t know how to tend to them.
This is how you get dysfunction. Take a power hungry individual for example. More often than not, those people suffered some primary sort of rejection (e.g.by father and/or mother) and internalised it. They came to believe that they were flawed and hence incapable of real and lasting love. In place of seeking love, these individuals seek position, if they cannot garner affection they can instil fear, or assert influence.
The tragedy and the horror of this is that there is no satisfying the need for love with a substitute. The levels that people reach attempting to do so can be truly terrible. I’m loathe to invoke the H word, but take Hitler for example. He had an antagonistic relationship with his father, who thwarted his dreams of becoming an artist, and died when Hitler was a young teenager. He was supported by his mother, but she too died when he was just past twenty. He also lost several siblings in childhood. These experiences demonstrate the link between alienation, loss, isolation and unresolved anger and the development of a replacement focus, in Hitler’s case: nationalism. He didn’t have the strong family he craved and so he made his country the object of his affection. His needs were never satisfied and his attempts to fulfil them became increasingly horrible. He now stands as one of the most murderous despots in history. It seems simplistic, but perhaps if he had felt love from his father and been encouraged in his dreams he would not have gone so desperately wrong.
We are both staggeringly complicated and impossibly basic in our needs. What we require is not at all difficult to deduce, but the manner in which we pursue those things is as varied as we are. If we can acknowledge this, and try to truly see one another, we might begin to offer each other love in each of our own peculiar language. In other words, love that nourishes our uniquely personal set of needs and makes us feel fulfilled.
5. Passion Vivifies Experience
I know that for me, to live without passion is to inhabit a life that is grey, a vast and desolate wasteland of monotonous pointlessness. Luckily, I discovered my source of passion at a very young age. It was, in rather obvious fashion, linked to what I just described as the most potent human motive: love.
I realised that if I loved something its value multiplied dramatically. I also found that love was an infinite font, my capacity for it increased as I engaged in it. I fell head over heels for everything. The dew on blades of grass sparkling in the morning sun, the trill of bird song piercing the air with triumphal glee, the patter of rain on the roof whilst I was warm inside with a hot cup of tea. Even negative experiences could be loved for their intensity, their ability to remind me I was alive.
I saw clearly that not all love was created equal nor shared in the same way. The feeling I had at the beauty of a sunset was clearly less comprehensive than what I felt for my family. I was floored by the power of what I felt for them and the rate at which that love grew. I was also in awe of the differences between us, how we connected and what we needed. I began to comprehend that different, didn’t translate to less. A distinction that was important as our family grew and as more friends were acquired.
In my teen years I found the catchphrase that represented this personal raison d’être in a quote by Robert Heinlein’s character Lazarus Long: “The more you love the more you can love–and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had Time Enough, he could Love all of the majority who are decent and just.” This was what I had been discovering for myself and it felt reassuring to have someone I admired so deeply sum it up with such precision. I knew that love wasn’t a commodity and wasn’t scarce. The people who treated it like it could be bought and sold and/or like it could run out, and needed to be hoarded, appeared bankrupt to me.
That perspective has held true throughout my life. Still, my approach to loving has changed with the years, I continue to attempt to give freely, but I also have more boundaries. In addition I see more and more clearly the need for self love. I cannot give myself away, I have to tend the home fire. As I stated at the outset, love is my source of passion and as such needs to be cultivated with care and focus. I can send good thoughts to the world as a whole, but in the day to day I require more exactitude about where I center my attention and energy. I don’t want to be scattered and ineffectual.
I allow the needs of the day to guide me to a strong level, but I also heed the lessons I have learned along the way. To function at my utmost I need a few basic things: intellectual stimulation, creative output, physical exercise and communion with others. The way this looks can change, but ideally I have at least a little of every one of those things every single day.
A life is a series of moments and if they aren’t inhabited it passes without being fully experienced. The world turns, the minutes proceed and none of it is run by me first, my permission is not required. I know this, and hence I value each day and do not discard its import to the overall tapestry of my life. I fight the social tide to, “just get through the day, week, month, etc.,” in order to reach the point where I can finally do what I want. I instead fight to make every day a portion of what I want, despite the necessity of cleaning the toilet, taking out the trash and earning my bread. I don’t flee from necessary duties, or scorn the maintenance that keeps my world afloat, but I don’t get mired in it either. In fact, when I’m at my best I glory in the details to such a degree that the cleaning of that toilet serves as a conduit to a more rich and gratifying day. The contrast between dealing with shit and smelling the roses is vast, and yet without shit the roses wouldn’t BE at all. And so it goes, decay and filth form the basis for beauty and growth. All it takes to recognise this, is a shift of the magnifying glass, giving things a fresh a look.
Again I return to passion, the fervent zeal for existence and the magic it can contain when I remain open to it. I know how easy it is to fall into darkness, into the pit of fear and uncertainty that lurks around every corner. I know that there will be pain and suffering, I’ve already experienced loads of it. However, I see overarching it all, the achingly beautiful, magnificently torturous and horrifically, wonderful absurdity that is life. I always manage to extract gems from the mines of my despair. I do this with love, mawkish as that may sound, it is the truest alchemical power source I know. It can make gold out of fools.
6. Flexibility is the keystone of growth
One of the saddest things I see happening over time is that people tend to become increasingly rigid as they age. They guard their choices, their path, their ideas, etc., with cyclone fencing and gun turrets. They become spitting mad if you question them, or heaven forbid, disagree with them. I see this as a mistake. I know that I do not want to allow my mind, or my body, to atrophy as I grow older.
I see flexibility as yet another path to liberation. My understanding of this steals unabashedly from the notion in Zen Buddhism of releasing attachment. When I let go of expectations and adjust without anger to undesirable surprises, I feel lighter. It’s a spiritual kind of unweighting, a shedding of the burdens that life can pile on. It’s like being let in on the joke, the universe seems funny rather than mean spirited. Or, perhaps it’s that the mean spiritedness becomes ridiculous. It loses the power to offend me.
I’m not always good at this. Some days I’m just ready to be foul tempered. Any little thing can send me into a fit of curses and the desire to kick things, or yell. I seldom do violence on things, inanimate or otherwise, but the desire is there. The world seems to be maliciously thwarting my every plan and people or circumstances are making demands on me that I find overwhelming, or maddening. If I’m on top of it, I give myself a sit down. I write, exercise, or otherwise consciously attempt to direct myself out of the funk. Fortunately, I also have a Cedar who often goes out of his way to throw me a rope, or ten, and tries to help pull me out of the pit. These various assists can more often than not get me over whatever it is that has me down, but sometimes I’m just too stubborn and I simply have to suffer it out.
I end up realising that that is ok too. If I need to have a rough day in order clear some angst, then so be it. The allowance of different moods and reactions is a part of the flexibility that I’m advocating. The more readily I let go of the idea that I should be doing better, the better I tend to do. I might still be ashamed of myself for acting poorly, but I don’t dwell on it as much. I’m increasingly proficient at shrugging things off, even if I’m blushing as I do so.
This progression towards taking myself less seriously frees me up to work on things, be it a physical project or an emotional breakthrough. My inner critic never disappears, but I can make like the zen master and tell her, “that’s a nice way of looking at things” and not give the opinion the power to seize me up. Remembering that perspectives are just that, opinions, and they can and will change is, liberating. It is another way that I can bend towards the light and see the promise of spring, even within the depths of cold and darkness that winter brings.
7. Learning increases the mind, thus expanding the universe
I remember how fresh and wonderful the world could seem when I was young. Everything was potent and new. I felt everything deeply and sometimes staggeringly. The energy that all things exuded coursed through me, causing amazement, joy, sorrow, frustration and at times horror. Sometimes it seemed like it was too much to feel so expansively; the intensity was overwhelming and I wanted to shrink away. There were moments when I did recoil, but there were more when I pushed on, breaking through the discomfort and revelling in the power of new discovery.
With time I began to recognise that I much preferred the pain of growth to the regret of running away. I focused on the fact that anxiety and fear cause the same neurological changes as anticipation and excitement. If I shifted the way I viewed things, and allowed the internal tumult to be seen as positive, I didn’t have to hide as much. This reduced the intimidation I felt when something challenged me and increased my sense of confidence in my ability to overcome adversity. This freed me up to say yes more often.
This is an approach that I still utilise, a way that I find my centre amidst the unknown. Each time I begin something new, fear and doubt try to creep in, but I remember that the more I learn, the bigger the world becomes; the richer my experiences are and the more thoroughly I love life. Opening new doors invariably shows me a whole new scope of possibility that both enriches what I previously knew and provides ever more potential.
Truly, each bit of knowledge creates a new world, teeming with promise. Even if it is something as simple as a word, there is history there and so much more that can deepen your understanding of the context out of which the word sprang and the myriad ways it can be used. It is only the boundaries of time, interest and creativity that limit how far you can go. Or, self imposed limitations, such as fear of the unknown, of looking foolish, of getting hurt, or really any of the multiplicity of ways fear can take hold. Fear is easily the most significant factor that terminates growth. It is the demon we all battle and requires constant vigilance to overcome. It is so significant in fact, that it merits a section of its own and as such will be dealt with more thoroughly later.
Over and over in my life I have had these moments where the light bulb comes on and a new understanding is reached. Never has this diminished the scope of the universe, it has only ever shown a spectrum of previously unconsidered possibility. I find this endlessly exciting. It makes me want to drink deeply from the well of knowledge and cherish my opportunities to do so. The brilliance of inhabiting an ever expanding universe is blinding at times, but it never fails to enthral. Life is truly spellbinding if I don’t get in my own way.
8. Empathy reduces violence and stress while promoting understanding
Since I was little I have felt the emotions of others very strongly. I read so much in the expressions, the body language, the voice and the behaviour of others. Sometimes it’s awful, I don’t want to be inundated with other people’s processes all the time. However, for the most part, it is highly informative, something which is instrumental to moving through life in a peaceful way.
When people feel seen, acknowledged, they behave better. In part because they can’t pretend to live in a vacuum, but mostly because it feels good to be considered. We all want that, to connect and feel that we are understood, valued. This process is improved when individuals actually put themselves in each other’s shoes, recognise that other people are dealing with struggles of their own and imagine how that might feel.
It is a harder to treat someone poorly if you consider the context from which they are operating. Rather than feeling affronted by bad behaviour you might go, “Huh, that person seems really upset, angry, confused, depressed, etc., maybe I should give them a little space, or a smile, a gentle word, a hug.” This changes a potentially escalating confrontation into an opening for compassion and connection. It doesn’t mean that opportunity will be taken, but at least the potential is there. I always feel better when I pull for the side of understanding, even if the outcome isn’t what I’d hope.
I know that when my life gets to be too much and my behaviour slips into places I don’t savour, I am deeply moved by people who reach out a hand to me. I don’t always take it, but it does lessen the sting of my suffering and reminds that there is goodness in the world of humans.
I have always enjoyed observing people and as a result I’ve witnessed countless occasions where people choose to empathise with, rather than alienate, one another. I have just as often, if not more so, seen the reverse. Invariably, the interactions come off better when even one party behaves thoughtfully. Angry people become less so when treated mindfully and conversely become more volatile if met with aggression. It is a simple thing to remember and yet one that gets frequently overlooked, sometimes to devastating effect.
The scenarios where empathy, or lack there of, are most visible are longterm relationships and situations where people of disparate groups (be they racial, financial, political, sexual, or otherwise) come into contact with one another.
Constant contact can create unwanted friction, if we’re not mindful of one another. No matter what’s being touched, frequent contact can be nice, or it can begin to chafe. The difference between the two is rooted in how we treat, and as a consequence, think about each other. We can acknowledge one another’s quirks and find them endearing, or we can choose to become maddened by them. I for one opt for the former. I’d much rather feel warmth upon pondering my loved ones than an itchy, profoundly disgusted, irritability and revulsion at their godawful humanness. I can only hope they’ll do the same for me.
I find that starting from the position, “Each person has their reasons,” allows me to see their actions more fairly. It doesn’t mean I won’t profoundly disagree with them, but it keeps the babies separated from the bathwater.
The sometimes awful truth is, we’re all connected. We can blind ourselves in all manner of ways and insist on attacking each other, but ultimately, all of life suffers for it. If we keep this in mind, our behaviours will be more measured, our battles fewer. It may be the single most diabolical aspect of our modern culture that we are encouraged to pit ourselves against one another at every turn. This splitting into hateful, diametrically opposed positions, has devastating consequences. It’s a disturbingly commonplace enactment of the false dilemma, a logical fallacy. There are always more than two ways of seeing things. Anyone who says inane things like, “You’re either with us, or against us,” has left reason behind. However, they’ve also provided an opportunity to ask what made them choose to do so. If you search for motives and come to understand them, you’re more likely to be able to pull the teeth, or at least the venom, from a bite.
These perspectives do not rid the world of strife, or protect me from ugliness, but they make it all hurt a lot less. I still get angry. I’m not exempt from losing my temper, but I don’t fly off the handle all that often and I do feel a lot of compassion for my fellow dumbasses. This makes my days flow much more peaceably and pleasantly.
9. Anger is an emotional masquerade: deeper feelings playing dress up
When I become angry there is typically some array of surface reasons that I can point to as the culprits. However, upon closer examination it is almost always a cover-up for pain and/or its evil besty: fear. Some simple examples involving pain: I stub my toe, really hard, and I’m furious with the offending object, but what’s actually going on is, I’m experiencing a good deal of unexpected suffering and the adrenaline fuelled wrath is distracting me from it. Or, perhaps someone says something rude to me, I feel righteous anger because they’ve insulted me, but what’s actually going on is that my pride has been wounded because they’ve treated me as inconsequential and if I rage, I don’t have to acknowledge the hurt.
The hardship with this recognition is that it divorces anger from toughness. The more thoroughly a person behaves under the sway of wrathful aggression, the more loudly they announce that they’re wounded and not dealing with it well. Sometimes the circumstances are such that everyone observing will understand, because they can’t easily imagine doing any better given the situation. For example, if a child has been harmed, rage is understandable because the pain of knowing someone vulnerable has been hurt, particularly if they are under our protection, is too much to bear. Most people will spend as long as they can feeding their fury to stave off experiencing the earth shattering pain of something like that.
There are many extremely excruciating scenarios that fall into this category. They are the ones we all fear and fight to avoid. They are also potentially the source of paying agony forward, because reason has been abandoned. Anger, even when it is justifiable, does not solve problems. It can only create more. It is the wounds that need tending, not the fire of fury which prevents the pain from being acknowledged.
This is a tough one. People don’t readily admit being wounded because they’ve bought into the false narrative that getting hurt signifies being weak. This is absurdity at its height. To live in the world is to experience pain. Attempting to avoid that pain is tantamount to choosing a life on the run. We might succeed in numbing ourselves with drugs, hiding behind fences, walls and money, overstimulating ourselves out of consciousness, etc., but these are all evasive tactics and they have a cost.
Incorporating the reality of suffering into our consciousness makes it less terrifying. The phantoms we imagine are worse than those we face. Running away, runs us down and tends to beget more of what we ran from in the first place. It is more honourable to look right at what we fear and stand our ground, facing getting mowed down over being shot in the back.
The trouble is standing up to our logical fear of pain and not going back to brandishing anger to protect ourselves. How do we do this? We assess our situations and respond to them accordingly. We acknowledge that most of our moments are not actually life and death and we break the cycle of reaction. We accept that even when situations are life and death, our anger doesn’t change that, but it does cloud our judgement. We let things go and recognise how much is insignificant and hence unworthy of our upset. We shift our perspectives and rather than seeking indignation, search for understanding. We take deep breaths and remind ourselves of what really matters to us, in the core of who we are, removed from the chorus of voices in the world at large. We accept that looking honestly at what we are feeling is hard work, and that it is ongoing, but we recognise the rewards inherent in doing so.
The more closely acquainted we are with our own emotions, the better we can navigate them and the more satisfying our responses to them become. Few people feel proud of themselves when they blow their lid. With daily practice, fewer of us would wind up going there and our world would be better for it.
10. Understanding Removes shackles
When I was young, before I’d gotten somewhat acquainted with life on earth, things going wrong felt personal. It seemed to my initiate mind that things were springing up to usurp my best laid plans. Granted, those plans were of the caliber of getting my favourite snack, or playing hide-and-go-seek, but they were important to me. Having those plans upended was upsetting.
Rather quickly I accumulated experiences that revealed to me that the world was full of living things, all of them containing their own individual desires. I saw that those desires were often at odds. A flower’s yearning to grow was in conflict with a woman’s desire for a bouquet to grace her dining table. My longing for a glass of juice ran counter to my mom’s urge to have an uninterrupted conversation with her friend on the phone.
This burgeoning understanding helped me to realise that when I didn’t get my way, it was rarely personal. I saw that we can’t each get what we want all of the time. Too often our desires and those of others are mutually exclusive. This recognition enabled me to learn the dual benefits of compromise and compassion, because I saw that sometimes me getting my way meant sacrifice for someone, or something, else and that the opposite also held true. If I graciously allowed someone else to have their desires met, even if it meant I didn’t get exactly what I wanted, I could rest assured that the tables would someday be turned and in the meantime I didn’t have to suffer.
These lessons were central in creating my overarching view that looking at life as if through the eyes, petals, talons, leaves, fur, etc., of other living beings generates a bigger picture of what is going on. It frees us from the limitation of thinking that everything is about us, good, or bad. It reminds us that each moment is shared with many other living things and that our needs are often not equal. If we care about the well being of our whole planet, we must pull our focus from ourselves at times and tune in to who and what is most in need of help at a given moment.
This expansion of focus is freeing because it leaves so much less room for taking offence. It becomes obvious that obstructions in my path are, by and large, incidental. It even allows me to be compassionate when someone deliberately thwarts or obstructs me because I can see that they probably imagine I’m in some way keeping them from what they want. They aren’t so much attacking me as, perhaps errantly, seeking their own ends in a way that conflicts with me seeking my mine.
I find this equanimity liberating because it makes my daily experience so much more enjoyable. The fact that I can be freed from resentment by enacting a little understanding seems like a relatively simple way to increase quality of life.
In another vein, understanding in the form of solving problems, or comprehending deeper meanings, removes mental shackles. Each door that we pass through that expands our understanding of the universe we inhabit, frees us from the constraints of a limited mind.
The more I learn, the more I recognise how great is the fount of mysteries. I’m fond of saying that my ignorance is boundless, but I think that my comfort with these words is due in part to the fact that I understand a great deal and find amusement in how small that knowledge is the grand scheme. I’m not cowed by my inexperience, but rather motivated by it. The more I understand, the freer my mind becomes and the more I desire to learn. This is a lovely kind of perpetual motion.
11. Care of all things is care of one’s self
This belief stems neatly from many of the previous ones in a way that reveals just how much each postulate is a branch of the same tree. I’ve belaboured the point that nothing happens in a vacuum. Be it the workings of the mind within the body, the body within the world, or other sets of systems altogether. The significance of care overarches all of this; it highlights the importance of each of our behaviours because of how their impact echoes throughout our shared existence.
In a very tangible sense, the better the conditions of life, the more everything thrives. For instance, a healthy environment means clean air and water which translate to an abundance of life. The more numerous and diverse the life forms, typically, the better. This holds true for all living things, not just humans.
In a less obvious way, looking after others of all kinds (e.g. animal, vegetable, or mineral) has manifold benefits for the person providing care. It generates a feeling of purpose, a warmth of connection and a general impression of goodness, akin to joy, when you observe the world around you thriving under your care.
It is one thing to know cognitively that something is the right thing to do, it is another to feel compelled to goodness by the plain fact that it makes you happy. The more frequently my actions are in alignment with what I feel to be conscious and kind behaviour, the lighter I feel.
This is not something that stems from acknowledgement or any overt award, it is a deep well of contentment that flows up from a bottomless source. I don’t name it, because I cannot. To do so would be to confine it to the limitations of my understanding, something I’m loathe to do. Not because my myopia would impose actual limits. I would just prefer not to dishonour something so great, by using something so small as a definition. Suffice to say it is a goodness, one that I have come to cherish.
I believe this experience is open to all that would engage in it. There are no labels, no exclusions, no rights of passage, no rules. All it takes is open eyes and open heart. The recognition that when one is lifted up, the rest of us are elevated as well. It builds on itself, becomes greater and more natural with practice.
This of course does not mean that I don’t have times of veering off course. I most certainly do. The beautiful thing is that I am self corrected by the fact that it feels shitty to be shitty. As I walk this path of life what feels best is caring. Sure, it hurts too, but the alternative is a damn sight worse.
12. Fear is the mind killer
That sentence says it all, enough said. Ok, perhaps not quite enough, there’s a touch more to it. For me, “Fear is the mind killer” has been a vital part of my mental arsenal since I first read those words in Frank Herbert’s masterpiece, “Dune.” You can take the words at face value and examine them for truth.
Fear dumps chemicals into the body that ready us to fight for our lives, or flee. In the jungle this is adaptive, it increases the chances of survival. It does so, not by encouraging contemplation, but by kicking us physically into gear and helping us to react rapidly. This jolt to the nervous system interferes with more complex reasoning faculties in effect shutting down thought. There you go, mind killed and reactionary creature initiated.
Outside of physically dangerous environments, having our nervous systems activated becomes stressful rather than adaptive. Robert Sapolsky explores the neurophysiology behind this process in his wonderful book, “Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers.” Therein, he describes how humans with our fabulous big brains have gotten ourselves into a pickle. We are capable of flooding our bodies with powerful chemicals simply by imagining dangerous or troubling situations. Over time, this chronic stress subjects us to all manner of disease. We are in a sense, killing ourselves with fear.
Fortunately, the mind is a powerfully elastic and adaptive thing. It can be employed to ease our suffering as readily as it can be made to cause it. It’s all about training we give it. If we habitually engage in disruptive thoughts we develop pathways in our brains that become fixed. We effectively convince ourselves that we live in a horrible, dangerous world, where we are continually under threat, and we have cortisol soaked bodies to show for it. Contrariwise, if we assess risk and then simultaneously make it a habit to take deep breathes, slow our heart rate and picture ourselves efficaciously engaging with and overcoming the challenges; we develop channels in our brains for healthy responses.
The brain wires neurons together that fire simultaneously, meaning our brains are shaped by how we act. This can be altered, but why not start to control the process? We can make for healthier, more successful bodies and minds, just by thinking about and routinely approaching behaviours in better ways.
A starting point for this is to work on controlling our fears. I find it helpful to recall that worrying about the worst possible scenarios, does nothing to change things. This process is only useful if we use it to make well reasoned choices. Beyond that, it becomes rumination of an unhealthy kind, fixed loops of anxiety inducing thought. As good ole Will said, “A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once. It seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.” (William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar)
I’m not suggesting that we can make it through life free of fear. There are many hard realities beyond our control. However, we gain nothing from stewing on them. I take inspiration from ephemeral beauties like the day lily. They shine with luminescent glory, giving it their all, though they bloom but one day.
13. Life Happens in Increments, Attend to the Task at Hand and Mind Where You are Heading
This one is easy to overlook. We can get so swept up in our days that we forget to pay attention to where they are leading us, or consider that we have an active role in the direction we are heading. I’ve seen many people, myself included, look up at some point and exclaim, “How the hell did I end up here?!”
Unfortunately, I also commonly hear people proclaim that they had no choice, that life just “happened” to them. This is not only a gross failure to take responsibility for oneself, it is a clear step in the direction of powerlessness.
If there’s nothing to be done, we cannot change and we’re stuck on fortune’s wheel. I don’t believe in this course. For me, I’ve tried both approaches, victimhood and responsibility, and much prefer the latter. I get how hard this can be for some people. Particularly if they were born into circumstances where bare survival was all they could manage to eke out. This can make the availability of choice next to impossible to recognise. For these individuals I feel a huge amount of compassion and I hope very much that something will occur in their lives that allows them see that things can be better.
However, for the vast majority of people, even with hurdles like poverty and/or abuse, it is still possible to find an efficacious path, to realise that we can be better than our abusers and find ways not to pay pain forward. This is integral to the responsibility to self I belaboured in point three. Which, as it turns at, holds hands with the notion that we build our days, minute by minute; so, we’d best like the blueprint we’re following.
I find that it helps to look closely at life and ask myself what I want from it. There is no aspect too small to consider. Everything we do shapes who we are. Everything from the food we eat, to the frequency of our elimination, to the quality of our sleep, to the state of our minds, to the nature of our relationships, to the work that we do, to the place that we live, to what we feel, to what we believe, to what we desire, and all the in-betweens, matters.
Let’s take one crucial example, from the aforementioned list: food. The cells of our bodies are literally created by the food that we eat, the building blocks and fuel for all of our functions. This is profound. There may well be no other single thing of so great an import to our well being.
It makes me pause to consider what I want my body to be built from. I can’t abide the notion of filling myself up with garbage in the form of synthetic ingredients, overly processed foods, undigestible fats, refined sugars, table salt, pesticides, hormones and plastics. I want to build my body out of real things, raised with care and love, and prepared with same. I don’t want to mindlessly consume anything, because I understand that it becomes a part of me, shapes me and not just physically.
Scientists are on the forefront of discoveries that show us just how integral diet is to mental health. The extraordinary book, “The Psychobiotic Revolution,” by Scott C. Anderson with John F. Cryan and Ted Dinan, deep dives into to the interplay between what we eat, our microbiome, and our mood. In a nutshell, our bodies are home to trillions of microscopic organisms with which we’ve co-evolved. Some are friends and some are foes, but they have direct access to our thoughts and feelings via the Vagus nerve, a super highway of information which travels between our brain and our internal organs, including the gut. If those little beasties are out of balance, they wreak havoc on our minds. They do this by making us crave unhealthy things (e.g., processed foods loaded with sugar, salt and fat), making us feel great when we eat them and then dumping us into physical malaise triggered by our poor nutritional choices. In diabolical fashion, the more out of whack we are, the more easily we succumb to the cravings, and the more awful we feel, in a feedback loop from hell.
The upside is that the friendlies in our gut can be encouraged to thrive and they too will release neurotransmitters that make us feel great. It’s like the Cherokee parable of the two wolves, the one that wins is the one you feed, so feed the good wolf.
This might all feel like a wild tangent, but I think it’s a prime example of how little things, small choices we make each and every day, prepare our stew of mind and body and deliver us health, or suffering, accordingly. There are fewer things more incremental than dietary and lifestyle habits, and yet they are some of the biggest influencers on our quality of life. Paying attention and taking good care of ourselves provides a great foundation for the rest of the necessary work of daily creating the life we want to live.