“Amor fati”

How and why did our lives take the directions they took and find the destinations they reached?

Why did we choose one job or career over another, one place to live rather than another, one marriage partner rather than another? And so on. 

As I look back over the seven-decade arc of my life, I find myself thinking more deeply about such questions from the perspective that only time can provide.

Some believe the course of our lives is written in the stars, that it is predestined or God’s will. 

Others believe that our fate is determined by chance, by random occurrences that individually or collectively alter and magnify the direction of our lives.

The first time I recall thinking seriously about this subject was when I saw the 1998 movie “Sliding Doors,” which Perplexity, an AI application, explains this way:

“The movie depicts two parallel storylines of a woman named Helen’s life based on whether she catches or misses a train.

“In one timeline, Helen gets fired from her PR job and catches the train home, where she discovers her boyfriend is cheating on her. She then meets a charming stranger named James on the train and eventually starts her own business.

“In the other timeline, Helen misses the train and remains blissfully unaware of her boyfriend’s infidelity for a time. She continues dating him and ends up working as a sandwich maker to support his writing….”

“The movie explores how a single chance event can drastically alter the course of someone’s life.”

Whichever view you take, predestined or random, our “fate” is determined, or at least significantly shaped, by powerful forces largely beyond our control that can have a large effect on our lives and through us the lives of others.

All of this brings us to “amor fati,” a phrase I recently encountered that loosely translates to love or embrace what life has given us, even if it is not what we wanted or less than others appear to have.

We are sometimes admonished to accept our fate because it is God’s will, or in secular terms, our destiny. Or we are told to resist that fate because we alone determine our futures, as in this line from “Invictus”: “I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.”

So, whichever view of fate you hold, Amor Fati reminds us that there is a benefit at some point in embracing rather than resisting that fate. (I discussed in this essay the challenge of deciding what to accept and what to resist.)

It is easier, of course, to hold that view when you don’t live in a war zone,  are not fleeing the violence and poverty that surrounds you in many countries, or have not lost a loved one to gun violence, among many other ways in which fate can be cruel.

What do you think: Are our lives randomly determined or predestined, and is it asking too much to embrace what life has given us, no matter how difficult or unfair?

Self-acceptance as a precursor to change

The more I accept myself just as I am, the more I can change. – Carl Rogers

Carl Rogers, an eminent psychologist who founded client-centered therapy, offers a paradoxical insight—that changing ourselves begins by fully accepting who we are, which he calls unconditional positive regard, and that influencing others likewise starts with accepting them as they are.

Such self-acceptance is an important aspect of the self-care that I advocated two weeks ago.

While the importance of accepting ourselves is relatively simple to understand, it is extremely challenging to do because it requires a shift in at least one important belief that many of us hold close—that is, that self-criticism motivates change. 

After all, why would we change if we felt comfortable with the status quo?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have an answer to that question, so I dug deeper into myself and what others have had to say about that subject.

Shankar Vedantam, the host of Hidden Brain, pointed to that belief in his introduction of psychologist Kristin Neff for a podcast episode on “being kind to yourself.” 

Vedantam noted Neff’s claim that self-compassion is a better path to self-improvement than self-criticism, defining self-compassion as “the practice of being kind and understanding towards ourselves, even when we make mistakes….

“Kristin had discovered something important. One reason many people avoid self-compassion is that they think being harsh with themselves is the only way to improve….”

In the interview with Vedantam, Neff observes, “The belief that we need to be hard on ourselves, criticize ourselves to succeed or reach your goals or make a change is actually the number one block to self-compassion we found in the research. People are afraid that if they’re kind to themselves, they just won’t get anything done….”

In addition to the paradox of self-acceptance preceding change, another, according to Neff, is that “…the vast majority of people say they’re significantly more compassionate and understanding and kinder to other people than they are to themselves. Especially when they make a mistake or fail in some way….

“One of the first practices we teach people for being self-compassionate is to imagine that a good friend they cared about was in the same situation that they are. Because naturally, especially our close friends, the ones we care about, we tend to be compassionate to them.”

Applying this understanding in our relationships requires developing an understanding of and genuine compassion for the experiences of others and being able to demonstrate that positive regard in a way that is felt by that individual.

My challenge during this election season is being tolerant of people whose views I consider dishonest and dangerous, especially when those views are based on willful ignorance.

So, staying on the “scenic path” during this election season begins with me accepting my intolerance and recognizing that I can have positive regard for someone while rejecting their views.

That unconditional positive regard acknowledges the profound influence that families, peer groups, and communities have on our beliefs and whose gravitational pull is very difficult for many to resist. Given the conservative religious and political views of the area in which I grew up, I want to remember that if it were not for college and other experiences that broadened my worldview, I might well believe those same things. And having experienced being an outlier in my family and community, I understand why it is sometimes easier to “go along to get along.”

A primary reason for the topics I have written about in recent months is to remind myself of the understanding and skills necessary for me to stay on the “scenic path” during the political and cultural turmoil of the months ahead.

I can improve my ability to seek first to understand, practice self-care (especially savoring and experiencing awe), choose compassion over judgment, and cultivate discernment about what to accept and to resist.

I know that I have a long way to go, but I believe I can make progress if I recognize my influence over both the content and emotional tone of the conversations in which I participate.  

And that may be “all” that is necessary to both preserve relationships that are important to me and perhaps occasionally nudge me and others in the direction of openness to ideas we currently reject.

What success have you had in developing compassion for others whose views are significantly opposed to your own?

The fundamental building blocks of trust and interpersonal learning

Of the many important things that Stephen Covey taught me, two things in particular have stayed with me over the decades, ideas that recently I have begun to see as more powerful when connected.

The first is “seek first to understand, then to be understood,” which means our views are more likely to be listened to and understood when others feel listened to and understood, an increasingly rare quality in today’s political and cultural moment.

The second idea is “being loyal to people who are absent,” or putting it in my own words, “don’t talk in harmful ways about people who aren’t present,” particularly if we would not say those things in face-to-face conversations. This practice honors those who can’t speak for themselves at that moment, demonstrates integrity, and in many situations is a character-defining attribute.

When used together, these practices build trust, strengthen relationships, and create a willingness to learn about ourselves and others that opens the door to mutual influence. 

How do you apply one or both of these practices in your life, and what challenges do you face in doing so?

Self-care is not selfish

For the past few weeks, I have written about things we can do to preserve our well-being when cultural turmoil and the threat of political violence are added to the normal stressors of life.

We have considered savoring large and small moments throughout the day, experiencing awe, cultivating compassion, “illuminating” others rather than “diminishing,” and practicing discernment regarding things we will accept and those we will resist.

To that list, we could add stress management strategies such as eating a healthy diet, regular exercise, prayer, mindfulness practices, journal writing, and seeking the support of family and friends, among many others.

At their heart, all these methods promote self-care during these difficult times.

Making such a list is easy. Implementing it is more difficult because it may require learning new routines and habits and, most challenging of all, acquiring new beliefs. 

Recently I thought about the power of beliefs related to self-care as I reflected on hospice grief support groups I helped facilitate. 

Each week participants were asked to do homework assignments related to some aspect of self-care. To prepare them for the homework the group brainstormed possible methods of self-care, with some participants unable to make any suggestions. Ideas included getting sufficient sleep, taking short walks, and spending even a brief amount of time in nature, among many more examples.

Inevitably, the following week many participants would report difficulty in following through on their goals, perhaps because their grief made it difficult to do many things that had previously been easier.

But another significant reason for that difficulty is that many of us are more comfortable caring for others than for ourselves, in part because we believe that self-care is indulgent, if not selfish. 

We may ask, Who are we to prioritize ourselves over others?

As a result, we have little experience with self-care to draw on when we need it the most.

What methods of self-care do you regularly practice, and which methods would you like to acquire?

Surviving this election season

Last week the Washington Post published an opinion piece titled, “How to survive another Trump-Biden election.”

Amanda Ripley, the essay’s author, began with statistics: “Our elections have gotten so bad that just anticipating them causes adverse health effects, according to research by psychology professor Shevaun D. Neupert. A quarter of us have seriously considered moving because of politics, political psychologist Kevin B. Smith has found. Even worse: One in 20 adults in America have had suicidal thoughts linked to politics. “Politics is a chronic stressor, saturating popular culture and permeating daily life through social media, various entertainment platforms and a 24-hour news cycle….”

Among the remedies Ripley suggests is creating “demilitarized zones” to allow “… certain core relationships to remain outside the zone of political debate,” relationships she defines as mattering to us but in which political arguments cannot be won and are only likely lead to more entrenched and firmly-held positions.

In addition, Ripley reports that some people find it helpful to avoid political conversations altogether, even with people they are in close agreement with, to give their minds a break from events that are toxic to them.

Ripley also suggests monitoring our “vital signs” to know when to get off “the election roller coaster,” as well as when to avoid other distressing news stories whose negative effects can be cumulative

She writes: “Personally, I’m trying to ask myself, ‘What will I get out of reading this story?’ before I wade in. I don’t always have the discipline to do this, but I wish I did. I can’t do anything about a brutal murder in a distant community. There’s enough tragedy to contemplate in my own city. At the same time, I’ve learned I have to nudge myself to read less-frightening stories — to help my brain see a fuller picture.”

Like Ripley, during the 2020 election/Covid season, I faced the fact that most of the “news” I consumed, especially on cable TV, did little to inform me while being a consistent source of dismay and agitation.

So I canceled my cable subscription, sought news elsewhere, and used streaming services for my entertainment. I have never regretted that decision.

Ripley’s third suggestion is to “map your sphere of influence,” an idea closely akin to the practice of discernment about what we can and cannot control that I recommended last week. To that end, she suggests that we identify the unique skills we can offer to receptive people and that will make our small part of the world a better place.

Ripley concludes: “It’s paradoxical: This is an important election. There are real threats on the horizon, with some of us facing more risks than others. Which is why it is so hard to pull away. But we are all human. Pulling away, temporarily and intentionally, is the only way to live to fight another day.”

What suggestions can you add to Ripley’s list?

Knowing what to accept and what to resist

I have heard it said that “While change is inevitable, suffering is not.” (Sometimes the term “pain” is used interchangeably with “change.”)

Put another way, resistance to inescapable change is a primary source of human suffering. 

All of us, of course, are subject to such changes within and around us. 

The Serenity Prayer (“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”) reminds us that there are times, for the benefit of our long-term well-being, to accept the reality of change and times to resist it.

The challenge is knowing which changes to accept and which to push back against. Some would suggest the Serenity Prayer as a means to that understanding. Others would use research and community engagement to guide those decisions, among other methods.

I have thought a great deal about this in recent months as I realize that much of the political turmoil in the United States, and probably elsewhere, is a result of the inability of many of us to understand the forces of change that surround us, determine what we can do about those changes, and plan for a new reality. Climate change and the inevitability of human migration toward better lives are but two examples.

I am also aware of the limitations of my influence on others, which has been a hard-won learning to the extent that I have acquired it, and the importance of self-care as a prerequisite to making wise decisions and taking appropriate actions.

How do you sort out what to accept as inevitable and what things you can affect?

Viewing closure as a process, not an event

When I helped facilitate hospice grief support groups the subject of “closure” would eventually arise with participants wanting to know if and when their pain would end.

But closure has another important meaning for all of us, not just those who are grieving, which concerns things that are unfinished and unresolved, and as a result, consume a portion of our emotional and cognitive “bandwidth.”

An example, to which most of us can relate, is a negative experience with someone in which the events and feelings are never fully processed, instead intensifying as we relive and rehearse them in our minds.

I have been thinking about that recently given the number of unfinished conversations that have accumulated within families and with friends and neighbors due to strong differences in political views. For instance, I know that in some families family members no longer talk to one another following emotionally-fraught political discussions.

One of the ways to get to the emotional closure we desire is to seek to understand the experience from the perspective of others. Understanding is not the same as agreement, of course, but often it is sufficient to either resolve the feelings or initiate a conversation that opens the door to addressing the rupture.

Returning to a contentious, emotionally-fraught experience is never easy and often scary, of course. We fear not only re-experiencing those negative feelings but exacerbating them and perhaps even further damaging the relationship.

A relatively low-risk approach is to express a desire to restore the relationship and ask others involved to tell you about the experience from their perspective, listening carefully without judgment or attempting to change their minds. 

To the extent that we can listen carefully, with the goal of understanding, not influencing, we will have made an important first step toward closure. And sometimes such a conversation leads to an appreciation of previously unrecognized areas of agreement. (I will have more to say about the challenges and benefits of such listening in future posts.)

As we grow older, many of us have not only years but decades of unresolved emotions with numerous people, including some who are no longer available for closure.

This returns us to the subject of closure in grief support groups where it is likely many participants have unfinished feelings, both positive and negative, with the person they have lost.   Fortunately, various means exist for such processing, including letter writing, memory boxes, and support groups, among many others.

What is your experience in seeking closure with significant others, living or dead?

Illuminate

Most of us have been in the presence of someone who helps us feel more resourceful and capable. We probably have also been in the presence of those who make us feel just the opposite. 

In a New York Times essay, David Brooks contrasted those two types of people, labeling them “illuminators” and “diminishers.”

One of the ways we can make our small part of the world a better place during difficult times is to illuminate rather than diminish. 

Brooks describes illuminators this way: “Illuminators… have been trained or have trained themselves in the craft of understanding others. They know how to ask the right questions at the right times — so that they can see things, at least a bit, from another’s point of view. They shine the brightness of their care on people and make them feel bigger, respected, lit up. Illuminators are a joy to be around.”

Illuminators are careful listeners, empathetic, and support us in being our best selves. We feel the warmth of their full attention. In their presence, we are inclined to think and talk more deeply about ourselves and learn things that promote our growth.

On the other hand, according to Brooks, diminishes are self-centered and judgmental. In their presence, we feel “less than.” 

Laura Konigsberg, head of Turning Point School, says we can develop children’s and our own “illuminator” mindsets by:

• Radiating warmth and giving people our deep attention,

• Accompanying others by delighting in their ways of being” by slowing down and favoring lingering over efficiency,

• And asking questions that demonstrate interest (and that de-center you) and listening “loudly.”

One of the most powerful ways to ease the stress of political turmoil is to bring our best illuminator selves to social interactions with others, whatever their politics – which means listening carefully to understand while minimizing judgment.

Who have been illuminators in your life? What qualities did they bring to their relationship with you? What habit could you develop or strengthen to be a more effective illuminator in the lives of others?

Choosing compassion over judgment

During difficult times, one of the best things we can do for ourselves and others is to be compassionate rather than judgmental.

Judge not lest you be judged, or some variation of that idea, is a central tenant of many people’s spiritual lives.

For many of us, our ability to realize that aspiration is closely tied to our belief in free will, a link I first considered while listening to a recent “No Stupid Questions” podcast on that subject.

During the show, co-host Mike Maughn described how his sister-in-law, Amanda, thinks about free will: “She would say, ‘I do not believe in free will, but I act as though it exists. And I treat others as if it does not.’ Meaning, she wants to act as though she can make choices, but she will treat others as though they don’t have free will, and therefore she has more compassion, or understanding, or at least benefit of the doubt — saying they can’t control how they act.”

Closely associated with a belief in free will is the view that that people with problems  have no right to our compassion and assistance because of their poor choices.

In contrast, as Amanda makes clear, whether or not we believe in free will, we can recognize that powerful forces beyond the control of individuals, from heredity to family circumstances to community influences to educational opportunities, among others, shape decision-making and behavior.

Seldom do we seriously consider what our lives might be like if we walked in the shoes of those whom we judge.

That is a view akin to another admonition, “Hate the sin, but love the sinner,” a recognition that 

while irresponsible behavior should be confronted and rejected, everyone should be treated with dignity, compassion, and respect.

This debate about free will doesn’t diminish personal responsibility, but reminds us that it is possible to hold people accountable while offering compassion, as good parents do with their children.

While I don’t have much influence over the disturbing events of this election season, I can control my beliefs.

I am pondering these ideas because when the “psycho path” beckons I want to remember the power of compassion for myself and others, an approach to life that enables me to be happier and my own small part of the world to be a kinder place, or so it seems to me. 

How do you think about this issue of compassion versus judgment regarding attitudes or behaviors of which we disapprove?

Experiencing “awe”

“Awe is what we feel when we encounter something vast, wondrous or beyond our ordinary frame of reference. It evokes a sense of mystery and wonder. And, given its documented benefits, awe might be our most overlooked, undervalued emotion.” — Dacher Keltner

How do we stay on the scenic path when the things that divert us to the psycho path are likely to increase and intensify in the months ahead?

Last week I wrote about the emotional benefits of savoring, that is, paying attention in the present moment to what we are experiencing.

An often unrecognized opportunity for savoring is when we are deeply moved by aspects of the world that are larger and more powerful than ourselves, an experience known as awe. 

Most of us have known that feeling when staring into the vastness of the night sky or seeing a child’s face light up when they first understand something new, as but two examples. 

According to Keltner and others, we can intentionally stimulate a sense of awe by having unstructured experiences, slowing down, being curious rather than judgmental, and noticing the goodness of others.

One of my dependable sources of awe dates back to my teenage years when I developed an appreciation for the pre-dawn hours of the day as I delivered the morning newspaper. 

When, much later, I read Anne Morrow Lindbergh‘s Gift from the Sea, I resonated to her term “dawn‘s simplicities,” which captured my experience as I heard nature awakening and the emerging light revealed the previously invisible details of my surroundings.

Those early hours remain a tranquil time for me, with the silence only broken by an occasional passing car, a dog barking, or the muted sound of a nearby cyclist, jogger, or dog walker.

Do you have awe-inspiring experiences from earlier times that have stayed with you and enriched your life?