The Half-Full Glass that was Halfway Empty

Allow me to present a sort of a pickle I'm in.

I've believed for a long time that optimism is strictly more beneficial than pessimism. Assuming that you're not sacrificing realism, of course, it seems self-evident to me that we will be happier, stronger people if we try to adopt positive outlooks. Extrapolating on this view, I can see no advantage to anger, or holding grudges, or dwelling on misfortune-- what does it gain us to allow things in our lives to make us unhappy?

For this reason, I tend to argue that, given the option to stew over irritation at people we don't like, or an issue we wish we could escape, it will always be better to just let it go. Let it roll off your back-- like a duck, as my sixth grade teacher once told me.

I also believe that negativity often works as a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you are convinced that things are going to go wrong, or that you're going to have a terrible day, it is much more likely to be true. Focusing on the bad in the world makes it all the more apparent, until it truly does seem that that's all there is to see.

But here's the truth. I'm also incredibly cynical. Sometimes I can't help it, it just happens. The difference is, I don't like being cynical, so being optimistic takes an effort. But this weird disparity means I'm having a hard time approaching the question analytically. Like I said, the logic of optimism seems self-evident to me. But why is it bad to be angry and cynical? After all, the world isn't always rainbows and muffins. So optimists are going to experience more disappointment as compared to pessimists. Besides, negativity doesn't actually harm us, does it? If anything, it makes us more resilient to the terrible things that will inevitably happen, because we won't be caught completely off guard when fate decides to have a laugh at us. We will have seen it coming.

But that doesn't sound right to me either! I think negativity does weaken us, but I'm not at all sure why. Optimists, help me out. What are the concrete benefits to looking on the bright side of life? Pessimists, argue with me. Is being prepared for the worst worth the cost of viewing the world as even more of a dark, miserable place than it actually is?

Some food for thought:

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned."
-The Buddha

"A pessimist is correct oftener than an optimist, but an optimist has more fun, and neither can stop the march of events."
-Robert A Heinlein

"I was thinking that it might do some good if we robbed the cynics, and took all their food. That way, what they believe will have taken place, and we'll give it to everybody who has some faith."
-Jewel

Say Something Nice

One of the best cures for a crappy day is an unexpected compliment. True?

Just think of those absolutely dreary, miserable, I-just-want-to-go-back-to-bed days, when, out of the blue, somebody drops one of those really great, really meaningful compliments that make you grin and blush like an idiot (though that may just be me). It gives you that warm fuzzy feeling, like drinking cocoa on a wintry day, snuggled up in a soft quilt with a kitty. Warmth in a blizzard, that's what a compliment can be like.

There's something so gratifying about being recognized, especially when you had no idea that people had noticed. Like when you have that talent that you're secretly very proud of, but are too shy to brag about, and then someone says "Hey, you're really pretty great at that." Is that not just a fantastic feeling?

Things like that stick with you. Here's an example: there is a certain acquaintance of mine of whom I have always been more than a little intimidated. He ranks high on my list of people with whom I know I will never be able to compete intellectually. Then one day, a couple of years ago, this person mentioned in passing that he considered me exceptionally intelligent, and said that I was actually a role model of his.

Imagine my shock. Now that's a paradigm shift if ever there was one.

Try to think about all the times you have thoughts like that about other people. There's that person with a really flattering blouse, or truly amazing shoes. The person who has something really insightful to say, that really makes you think. There's the people you deeply admire, or people who impress you with their abilities. Stuff like this crosses our mind all day.

Now the crucial question is: how often do you voice those thoughts?

I think it might be a little taboo to be so complimentary of others. It may come across as creepy or sycophantic, and we don't want to come on too strong. Or maybe we think they wouldn't really care, so we might as well just keep it to ourselves. Or sometimes when we see something we admire about someone, we assume they have probably heard about it a thousand times before, so we don't need to say anything.

But how often is that really true for ourselves? I know that I am grateful for every single compliment I receive. I know that their decision to voice their comment was probably a complete toss-up, and I feel very lucky that they happened to decide to say something.

What I'm trying to say is that we should speak up more often. Voice the little compliments, because they might not be so little to the person you're speaking to. Voice the big ones, because the more important those comments are to you, the more important they're likely to be to the person you think them about.

Compliment strangers; those comments often mean more because you could have walked by and said nothing, but instead you thought it was important enough to let them know you noticed something great about them. Compliment your friends; it's easy to neglect those we spend a lot of time around; always let them know that you see their talents and accomplishments. Compliment your loved ones; communicating and demonstrating appreciation will make our most important relationships stronger.

For those of you who are completely disgusted by the fact that my blog post has turned into a bit of a Kumbaya circle, you can also take a cost-benefit approach. You risk very, very little by making these sorts of comments. At the worst, they're a little weirded out, and then they move on with their life. At best… well, honestly, I believe the potential gain is immeasurable.

Whatever way you look at it, it can only do good. So next time you happen to notice something cool about someone else… do them a favor, and let them know.

☺

Joy in Sorrow

Ender’s Game is possibly my favorite book of all time. Every time I read it I experience something profound, something somehow earth-shattering. It’s not about the outstanding quality of writing and character development (although those don’t hurt, either); it’s the tragedy. The story this book tells is heartbreaking; for it to have happened, even in fiction, leaves you feeling sick in your soul. But it was powerful enough to touch your soul in the first place.

The magic of those tragedies make a story stick with us, get it under our skin so we cannot forget. We seem to be drawn to things like this. Why is that?

Perhaps what is so alluring is the feeling of reckless abandon, of being overpowered by sorrow. A friend of mine once told me that sometimes she just enjoys “wallowing” in it, just allowing herself to feel the sheer force of it. This is something that I can almost understand; we so often shy away from feeling sad to keep up with the expectations of others and ourselves, so that to allow ourselves to freely experience it may be in some way liberating.

But I think it’s more than that. When I was caught up in depression in a bad way, I found a certain thought continuing to crop up in my mind: that I was choosing to be sad all the time. That all of my actions were inexplicably—but deliberately— hurtling into the depressive episodes. It felt like an addiction. Like this thing was damaging my life, but I needed a hit anyway. When we read a sad story or see a sad movie, we are safe from the events that occur. So we are safe to feel sad, so we enjoy it that much more. But, in our own lives and experiences, we are finding ways to enjoy it that are just a little more dangerous.

Why could this be? What pleasure could we find in sorrow? Perhaps It’s the power and intensity of the feeling. Perhaps an emotional low can be just as exciting as an emotional high. The chemicals surge through our brain, eliciting this incredible sensation of misery. How amazing! How enrapturing. How very, inescapably human we are, to feel this emotion that can enfold us in its long arms and carry us into that dark, forbidden place of our own minds. How incredible it is to be alive.


What do you all think? Am I totally off the mark here? Am I just weird and masochistic? Please share your thoughts and experience.

It's Your Funeral

Imagine…

You are dead. Your life is over, there is no more work to be done, and now everything about you is past-tense. There is nothing left to the concept of “You” but what exists in others’ memories. If you have ever left a negative impression on someone, you have no chance to redeem yourself. You have hit “send” on the manuscript of your life, and it has been submitted to the editor for critique.

How would you like to be described at your funeral?

Some funerals have pastors officiating, where they read off a one-size-fits-all description of a generic decent person’s life. Some are sparsely attended, and people struggle for profound things to say about a person who really wasn’t all that profound.

Others (these are the really memorable, awe-inspiring ones) have people crowded, standing-room only in the back, waiting in a line to get up and say what a truly amazing person this was. Stories and tears flow freely as loved ones paint a picture of an individual who will live forever as a saint or a hero.

There are those people who live their whole lives to serve others, and the ones who knew them best will swear up and down that there wasn’t a selfish bone in their body. There are those who touch many, many lives, inspiring them to be the best they can be, demonstrating a life’s full potential. There are those who are the matriarchs or patriarchs of ginormous families, helping bind them together in strength and love, leaving an ongoing legacy that will never die.

It’s a question I’m asking myself these days: how do I want to be remembered?

Remember that memories erode, and eventually all that will be left of you is an abridged version, with just the most important/memorable stuff. So it’s something to ponder as the days flow past us, unceasingly… what are we doing with our time here? What will our Greatest Hits CD sound like? Any given morning you wake up, you could start composing a new song for it. You could do something huge and amazing, or start down some new path that will change things forever. All that it takes is a decision to make it happen.

I think that many (most?) of us tend to live without real purpose or direction, making decisions that are arbitrary or short-sighted. To live deliberately means to live with a big-picture sort of mindset, acting based on long-term reasoning, keeping always in mind what sort of life we want to live.

It’s so easy to just exist. It’s another thing entirely to live a life you’ll want to be remembered by.

Terrified

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself-- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance..."
-- Franklin Delano Roosevelt

"Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared."
-- Edward Vernon Rickenbacker


Judgment.

Commitment.

Intimacy.

Rejection.

Aloneness.

Inadequacy.

Failure.

I don't believe there is a person alive who does not experience fear. I would go so far as to say that fear is a fundamental, inescapable part of humanity. We all have our own underlying objects of terror that haunt us from the moment we wake up every morning and approach the world.

We are afraid of each other. We are afraid of ourselves. We are afraid of the world, of the future, of the past, of the present. We are afraid of misery, and we are afraid of joy.

I have this hunch that we are motivated by fear in almost everything that we do. Underlying our logical, unembarrassing reasons for the decisions we make, is a deep and pervasive terror. We choose a well-paying, soul-sucking profession because we are afraid of poverty. We stay in an unhappy relationship because we are afraid of dying alone. We present ourselves as being confident and together because we are afraid of letting others see the flawed beings we truly are.

I began this post with the FDR quote because I think it basically represents the common opinion of fear as weakness, as something to be avoided at all costs. However, as I recently started reflecting on my own intense fears, and consciously thinking about how they are motivating me to act-- or not to act-- I started wondering if fear really is the enemy.

In some cases, fear can drive us towards unconscionable acts, for instance if one is threatened or blackmailed. Other times, fear can make us cowards, keeping us from doing the hard stuff that we have to. So you won't hear me arguing that fear doesn't have the potential to hold us back.

But if you think about it from a different perspective, fear can motivate us towards incredible growth. Fear can inspire us to jump-start our lives or careers, to avoid the misery or futility of the future. Fear can clue us in to our sources of weakness and anxiety, so we can strive to conquer them.

Let me give an example: I accepted an internship for this fall working at a Residential Care Facility, where the main population will be schizophrenic patients who are unable to care for themselves. This idea terrifies me. And that is precisely why I chose it-- if I am interested in clinical psychology (which I am), the discomfort I have with working with the mentally ill is going to be a major obstacle, to say the least. So I first had to acknowledge that I was afraid. Knowing this gave me the chance to reflect and realize that I didn't have to let my fear control my actions. So I took the plunge (reactions to actually working in this internship forthcoming).

Fear, like pain and sorrow, lets us know that we are human. By analyzing what we're afraid of, we can come closer to understanding why we are the way we are, which is, I believe, one of the greatest mysteries an individual can face. Moreover, if we can pinpoint our deepest fears and determine whether they're prompting us for good or for ill, it can allow us to be more conscious agents, which is crucial.

One of the most empowering things we can come to believe is that there's nothing wrong with feeling afraid. Fear does not make you a coward. On the contrary; it gives you the opportunity to have courage.

The Paradox of "Knowing"

In my exploration of different therapies to treat depression, right away, I figured out the main problem. We live based on what our brains tell us. This is usually adaptive, as we receive input from stimuli, and act according to our brain's interpretation. But what happens when our brain is just wrong? How can we know the difference? Wandering through a library crammed with untapped knowledge, looking up at an incomprehensibly vast starry sky, hearing tales of lives completely unlike our own... it's not difficult to see evidence of how little we really know. Besides which, as little as 10 weeks of studying Intro Cognitive Psych will tell you that our brains are disturbingly fallible, even if you DON'T have a mental disorder. Predictably, it's much worse when your neural chemicals are going haywire and you're believing all sorts of awful things. But it goes against our most basic instincts to operate outside of what our brain tells us. We are not built to do this. If we can't trust our own brains, we may become basically incapacitated. But I think too much trust in our brains can lead to just as much trouble.

I observed at some point that when we were children, we were significantly less settled in our worldview, meaning we were more likely to believe what we were told. However, as we grow, we develop a repertoire of what we think we know, and orient our brains around it. As an example, when I was a young child, some kid tried to convince me that you could summon a ghoul called Bloody Mary by saying her name three times in front of a mirror. Although even at that age, I knew it was unlikely, part of me still thought it could be true, and I was super freaked out. But now, I look back with a bizarre fondness for a time when I could believe something so fantastical, when I could be frightened by something so silly. It makes me wonder, what other amazing, incredible things were we able to believe back then, but no longer can today? We dismiss things like that out of hand as being unrealistic, but we do so mostly because it doesn't fit into our worldview. What if we're limiting ourselves by trusting our imperfect knowledge?

We assimilate information based on what we already believe. And if you think about this, it really is kind of a broken system. How can we increase our awareness and understanding about the world if we're only retaining the information that makes sense with what we already know-- which is incomplete-- and dismissing the rest? This explains why people are often so resistant to accepting new ideas. We are utterly disempowered without our reservoir of knowledge, and yet, on the other hand, I'm thinking we rely on it too heavily. With imperfect knowledge from which we refuse to deviate, how can we grow? As they say, the wisest thing you can realize is that you know nothing. So perhaps it is only when we find the ability to reject what we once believed to be true-- a mighty feat unto itself-- that we can actually gain new and innovative insight.

Thoughts?

Capturing the Now

I've been thinking recently about a certain irony: we spend so much of our time capturing memories that, in some cases, we may fail to create those memories. Take vacations or parties for example. Many of us spend the entire time with a camera in hand, catching each moment as it comes. Sometimes we manufacture moments for the camera, contrived situations that do not reflect reality, but make for pleasant memories. But most importantly, rather than relishing the moment itself, and throwing ourselves with wild abandon into happiness, we constantly concern ourselves with making sure that it can be recorded properly. Why do we do this?

Personally, I fall into that category of those who are more or less obsessed with documenting everything. I find that, without keeping records of what happened, I can forget entire days, weeks, periods of my life. I can forget entire vacations, entire relationships, entire epiphanies, entire moments of pure bliss. And once they are forgotten, they are lost forever to the erosion of time. But I can't help but wonder, is this focus on record-keeping counter-productive? It's really very similar to the old debate of whether to live for the present or the future. Do we invest our time and money so as to enjoy their fruits later? Or do we not put off joy, choosing instead to pour ourselves into the here and now? What if all the effort we put into preserving for the future was put instead into living each moment to its fullest potential? Would we be happier? Would we have more moments to look back on fondly, adding color and light to the story of our past?

We have such an intense desire to preserve the present so we can enjoy it in the future. But what does it mean if we're trying so hard to capture it, that we end up letting it pass us by?