Archive for September, 2009
Anger Vs. Resentment
While anger and resentment are in the same emotional ballpark, there exists marked differences between them. The main one is that anger is healthy and normal, while resentment is neither.
Back in my 12 Step days, I got a lot of opportunity to learn about and become familiar with my resentments. The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous calls resentment the “number one offender” and says that if we don’t deal with our resentments, we’re guaranteed to drink again. I agree that resentment causes a lot of problems, but for everybody, not just addicts. But because addiction is such a problematic way to deal with deep-seated emotional issues like resentment, people in 12 Step groups have an opportunity to look at it in a detailed way that most other people don’t. If they don’t, they’re bound to stay stuck in that awful addictive pattern. So in a way, addiction can be a real opportunity that other people don’t get to deal with some of their problems. (At least, that’s how I’ve always preferred to look at it.)
Anyway, anger is, as I’ve said many times, simply an emotion, and emotions are ways we know if we’re fulfilling our needs (John Bradshaw said that, and I think it’s brilliant). When you feel threatened, or someone you care about is threatened, or when people treat you disrespectfully, you get angry–simple as that, and completely unnecessary to attach any judgment to it; doing so would be like having an opinion about people laughing when they’re happy.
But anger can feel threatening to people, so sometimes it gets complicated. When children grow up in families without a lot of emotional validation, anger is usually one of the first feelings they learn to suppress, whether in an attempt to gain approval, avoid punishment, or disown what’s too overwhelming for them to deal with at such a tender age. And when children learn to repress their anger, problems ensue, precisely because its expression should be normal and natural. Repressing childhood anger is like stopping mid-sneeze, or mid-sleep, or mid-orgasm, over and over and over, until what should be the exception becomes the norm, and in such a subtly insidious way that we don’t even know it’s happening.
By the laws of emotional thermodynamics, all that interrupted, unacknowledged anger has to go somewhere. It seeks refuge in the subconscious, where it lives safely, but not without repercussions. Anger has a lot of energy, and just because a person doesn’t acknowledge it means it goes away. It does not go away. Instead, it often gets stronger and stronger, manifesting as all sorts of disowned behavior–hostility, passive-aggressiveness, depression, fear, and, of course, resentment.
Resentment, then, is unaddressed, unresolved, long-term anger, anger that’s hardened into a set way of seeing the world. Another way of stating it is that resentment is anger that’s lasted longer than, say, a year. If you still boil inside about things that happened when you were a kid, or if you’re still angry at a boss who fired you even though you’ve moved on to an equal or better position, or are angry at an ex-spouse or partner who you’ve long since broken up with, then you have resentments. But more importantly, if you have resentments, then you likely have repressed childhood anger to deal with. Which, if you don’t address it, is going to continue to fester away, sapping and misdirecting energy that could be used in more productive ways.
But, you might argue, not all anger is healthy. What about people with bad tempers who get angry at the drop of a pin–about things in the present? What about intolerant people who get annoyed at the slightest infractions? What about angry drivers? I submit that such people have resentment issues. The quick tempers are there because the unresolved anger is always simmering just below the boiling point, ready to erupt. If you look deeper, you will inevitably find some unresolved anger in their pasts that colors their behavior in the present. This is another form resentment takes.
It’s no fun to be resentful. In addition to the energy it needlessly burns up, it keeps people stuck in the past in such a way that they can’t fully live in the present. Being resentful is truly a miserable way to go through life. But it has a payoff: it’s an extremely effective way of avoiding old hurts and the pain that results from facing them. This is the paradox that can keep people stuck if they aren’t aware of it: it’s more painful, at least in the short-term, to work through the disowned anger, so it can seem like the best choice not to. But it isn’t, and we must come to terms with that. Sadly, with disowned anger, this is the only option. As always, the hard way is the only way. Walk through it in a 12 Step group, with a therapist, with a supportive partner or friend, or by yourself, but walk through it. Because what saved you as a child will kill you as an adult.
Stepping Off the Wheel
In Middle Finger Energy, I wrote, “The goal is to step off the wheel altogether.” I didn’t explain what I meant by that or how it would look to do it. Since it’s kind of an important idea, I thought I’d dig a bit deeper into it.
By wheel, in this context I was speaking of unhealthy patterns people adapt, usually as children and usually to cope with some invalidating treatment, and tend to not question until they become too painful to keep ignoring. These behaviors are often so deep-seated that we don’t know they’re there–or, if we know they’re there, we don’t know why; addiction is a good example of this. The wheel conjures images of a hamster in his cage, furiously running on his little exercise wheel, burning up a lot of energy but never getting anywhere. When people are stuck in these behavior ruts, that’s exactly what it’s like.
Stepping off the wheel is easier to understand in concept than to recognize. When I was in my early twenties, still mired in addiction and unhealthy family relationships, I made a decision to go back to college. My parents had been furious that I’d dropped out, and every time I saw or talked to them, I had to endure sideways comments, complaints, and lectures about it. I’d gotten a job that offered tuition reimbursement, so I thought I’d give it another go. I didn’t tell my parents right away. I wanted to surprise them with the good news, so I saved it for a visit (I lived about 3 hours away and saw them a few times a year). Once there, I waited for the perfect moment, when I had their attention and the conversation was going well. I sprung the good news and waited for the happy praise and accolades that were sure to come. But none did. My father grunted and my mother said, “Oh, it’s about time,” or words to that effect. Then they changed the subject. I felt awful on so many levels. I was confused at their reaction, I felt stupid for expecting anything different, and even stupider when I realized how badly I’d wanted something different.
Through this experience I realized, finally, that nothing I ever did was going to please them. So as awful as it was, it presented me with a wonderful awareness. And yet, even with that awareness, it took me several more years to fully face and accept this about my parents and deal with the pain of it. And even though I think I’ve fully faced and accepted the truth, I’m not sure I’ll ever completely shed the belief that without people’s approval I am somehow “less-than.” I still have to work at it pretty diligently.
That may sound sad, but it’s far better than being stuck in the terrible cycle of chasing approval that’s never going to come. This brings to mind a similar story. At one of my old technical writing jobs, I had a boss stuck in this cycle of approval-seeking. She was also a friend, so I knew she had a family history not unlike my own. But I wouldn’t have had to know because it was easy to figure out just by observing how she dealt with her bosses, who unfortunately all happened to be rather boorish, chauvinistic, middle-aged men. Once when she and I were sitting in the break room, one of her bosses walked in. The instant she saw him, her whole demeanor changed. She sat up straighter and painted a smile on her face that made me think of a little girl. Our conversation ceased as completely as if I’d gotten up to go to the bathroom. Her eyes locked on the man and followed him around the room. He glanced over at us, then quickly away, which made her lean even further forward and smile even harder. When he walked past our table without even a nod, I felt so bad for her I almost reached out to comfort her–then I realized she didn’t need comforting. To my dismay she turned back to our conversation as if nothing had happened. I hadn’t understood before why she was in that job; she was unappreciated and unrespected, and she was constantly telling me stories of being undermined and of new strategies to prove herself. After I witnessed this sad transformation in her boss’s presence, it was obvious to me that she was acting on some very old, very deep-seated desire for approval. More importantly, that she was completely unaware of it.
So I have to say, as awful as the awareness can be, and as long as it can take to come fully to terms with the pain of it, it’s far better than being stuck on that wheel, chasing after something that is not only unlikely to come, but is also a distraction from the greater journey–knowing yourself and what you want as fully as possible in this lifetime. Since it’s the only one you’ll have for sure, you ought waste as little as possible of it on stuff that just doesn’t matter.
Stepping off the wheel is an intensely personal proposition. Each of us has our own demons and blind spots to transcend; each of us manifests our emotional pain in unique ways. Nobody can do this work for us. But this principle may help: Don’t avoid the awarenesses that come to you in life. When something feels profound, pay attention to it. Even if it seems silly or doesn’t make sense; sometimes particularly if it feels silly or doesn’t make sense. Our shadow, which is where most of our pain lives, is always trying to get our attention, always trying to acknowledge the stuff holding us back. It knows that without such acknowledgement, we’ll never get even the opportunity to step off the wheel.
I don’t know why it can be so hard to listen. I just know that it is.
Middle Finger Energy
I have a friend who’s achieved a lot of success in many areas of his life. He’s very bright, has a good marriage, a beautiful house, and a career he enjoys. From all external appearances, he’s living the American dream. But put a few drinks in him, and he’ll go off on long diatribes about how awful his father was, the hardships he had growing up, how he’s “cut all the dead wood” out of his life, how ungrateful his son is, how screwed up the government is, etc. etc. etc. His rants have an edginess that make people uncomfortable, but to him, he’s merely stating the way of the world–cold, hard, and unforgiving. And if people don’t like it, well, the hell with them, too.
Years ago, I heard the term middle finger energy from a therapist. I googled it and got more than 700,000 hits, but as far as I could tell, none were references to this particular usage. As you might have guessed, it refers to energy fueled by anger, particularly anger at one’s parents for hurts accrued in childhood. Anyone who’s experienced anger (in other words, all of us) knows there can be a great deal of power behind it. So middle finger energy can take you a long way in life. But ultimately, it holds you back from your fullest potential.
Here are some indicators of middle finger energy (from my thoughts and experience, and not official in any capacity):
- Holding resentments for things that happened a long time ago; that is, spending a lot of time thinking about how you can prove yourself to or get revenge on the people who made you feel weak, small, and powerless at earlier times in your life;
- Being unwilling to forgive people (which is not the same as putting up with bad treatment);
- Focusing on appearing successful rather than on feeling successful; driven by an “I’ll show you!” attitude rather than by your own internal compass.
Most people have some of these traits to some degree. But for those of us who grew up without enough love and support, they can be tweaked up a few notches. When children live with a general sense of emotional deprivation (and that can look a lot of different ways), it makes perfect sense that such a deficiency would be a motivating force, pushing them to prove themselves in ways most likely to impress an emotionally distant parent and thus, at long last, gain his approval–but these ways may not be their heart’s desire. In fact, they are likely not to be.
Anger, being a normal and natural outcome of emotional invalidation, plays a big role here. Instead of feeling the hurt and rage of not being loved enough, of being loved as every child deserves, we channel it into “more productive” pursuits, pursuits that will prove our worth to our parents, to the world, and to ourselves. If we succeed, our subconscious believes, we can avoid ever having to feel that hurt. But that isn’t how it works. “More productive” pursuits are a cheap substitute for owning our true feelings, and if we stay on that path, we end up leading a life not really our own.
Even if a person, like my friend in the example above, has given up trying to gain approval but is still consumed with resentment about never having gotten it, his deprivation is still a motivating force for him. Acting out of opposition to something doesn’t mean you’ve moved past it; it means you’re still caught up in it in a different way.
The goal is to step off the wheel altogether.
Middle finger energy, whether motivated by wanting approval or in response to not having gotten it, is reactive. That means that you’re motivated by some stimulus outside yourself. This isn’t necessarily bad and shouldn’t be seen as something to vehemently avoid. First of all, it might have been your impetus to get out of a bad situation, or try to rise above your families’ expectations of you, or anything else that you saw as limiting–sometimes it’s the only way to find the energy to move on. And certainly there are many times that other people’s needs, wants, and feelings are a significant factor in the choices we make. But when we’re talking about our life’s work, our heart’s desire, following our bliss, well, this can only be done when measured by our own internal scale. And there is no mark on such a scale for middle finger energy, because such energy tends to stand in the way of authenticity rather than contribute to it.
Many emotionally wounded people go through life this way. They’re so intent on avoiding the hurt of their childhood that it never occurs to them to think about what they really want. Middle finger energy is a terrific distraction. That is, until you wake up one day and wonder why you feel so empty, fatigued, hopeless, bored, and frantic. That’s the hurt trying to get heard–because you can’t avoid it. It’s part of you. You can only put off dealing with it. But the longer you do so, the further and further away you move from authenticity, and the greater the chances become that you will never find your authentic voice, your authentic place, your authentic self.
Since we are all a messy, complex mixture of feelings and motivations, it’s a good goal to clarify how much of your motivation is authentic and how much is reactive, and then to move toward authenticity. It’s easier said than done, because whatever path you take, it will involve squarely facing the pain you’ve been avoiding, and you’ve been avoiding it for a reason. As always, the only way out is through, but the rewards are rich: more serenity (eventually), more clarity, and a solid sense of who you are that can only be achieved by facing down the monsters.
What Is Personal Growth, Anyway?
“It is not a question of whether man chooses to be guided by philosophy: he is not equipped to live without it.”-Ayn Rand
This probably should have been my first post, but better late than never.
What is “personal growth” anyway, and why does it matter?
I’ve been thinking about this for awhile now. The term is so vague and broad-ranging that you can apply it to almost anything. Much personal development (just a fancier word for growth), for example, is concerned with how to make money. Other branches of personal development focus on improving self-discipline, becoming more efficient, or more goal-oriented. Yet others have to do with improving relationships as a way to success, or even with “finding love.” All fine pursuits.
The “personal growth” I (and countless others) write about has a focus on the internal–on living a life most closely aligned with your highest values (a pursuit I call spiritual, although I shy away from that term for obvious reasons). Because my personal history is one of invalidation and abuse, and all the logical outcomes of that–addiction, low self-esteem, shame, struggles with relationships, etc.–I write about “personal growth” from this angle. For me, it’s a “journey toward wholeness” because that’s how it’s always felt to me, even when I was too young to have a name for it.
And yet, I actually dislike the term “personal growth.” It has a rather self-absorbed feel, conjuring images of people overly caught up in neurotic efforts to fix themselves. I feel I’m really growing as a person. What does that mean? The broadness of the term makes it almost impossible to know, although when actually uttered aloud, such phrases almost always have a narcissistic bent, so much so that you dread asking for clarification. Maybe it’s all the time I spent in AA meetings and therapy, but my experience has been that when people begin a dialogue this way, they’re far more concerned with avoiding some painful truth about themselves than with any actual awareness. I’d much rather hear about an honest emotional struggle. But people are usually too afraid to talk about that stuff because they don’t want others to see how broken they still feel inside-as if that’s something to be ashamed of. I think this is why I dislike the term so much. It implies deficiency, that there is some way we need to change because we’re not okay the way we are. And this is simply not the case.
We are not deficient. We are simply…incomplete. Born helpless with no way to go but up; a blank slate waiting to be filled. For anyone with a functioning human mind, growth is life, and stagnation is death. So in a very real sense, “personal growth” really just means being human. So what has become a cliche of modern life (the focus on such growth being a fairly recent historical development) really speaks to what I believe is our inevitable human condition: the impulse to “grow.” As Ayn Rand (and countless others) points out, it’s only a question of how we choose to do that.
Growth is the essence of life, and remains so from the first breath to the last. This process is easy to see in children, who are like dry little sponges thirsting for knowledge, adventure, and self-sufficiency on every level. But when we reach adulthood, it’s not so simple. The growth process can get obscured by many things, often to the point that free time is divided between obligatory tasks and mindless relaxation. Neither of these are bad, but if there’s no time or energy to pursue the things that get you excited, life can end up feeling empty and meaningless. And with good reason: if you don’t make time to do what you love, you are missing the very essence of what life is about.
So by whatever name you call it, “personal growth” is the natural, unavoidable human way. All the efforts to define such growth are well-meaning, however incomplete or downright hokey many of them are. And all are opportunities to move further up the path toward wholeness, to awaken to truer, deeper, higher levels of awareness about who we are and why we’re here and what it all means anyway. People may say that doesn’t interest them, but it does; they just call it something else. Because this journey is the very essence of joy, or, as Joseph Campbell put it, following your bliss.
I suppose for the sake of clarity, I’ll continue to call this journey “personal growth.” But I prefer to think of it as a well-rounded human adventure, as an inevitable migration toward Wholeness. And thus the question isn’t if or why it matters.
The question is, how do I make the best job of this I can?
Why Religion Rarely Inspires Awe
Religion is for people who are afraid of hell; spirituality is for people who’ve been there. — Unknown
As I’ve recently discovered, awe is an important aspect to any kind of (non-physical) growth. You might call it something else: excitement, enthusiasm, inspiration, curiosity, open-mindedness, wonder, creative energy; but whatever name you call it, it refers to an attitude that propels us out of complacency toward a higher purpose, energy, calling, or understanding. Awe can be awakened by anything that causes this shift in worldview to occur. When embraced as a personal philosophy, awe is the thing that will move us toward where we want to be. It is the driving force behind all of man’s greatest ideas, achievements, philosophies, and art. As the mind is man’s greatest survival tool, one could even make the case that awe–in the form of curiosity–is a biological given, necessary not only for growth, but for sustaining life itself.
Awe is powerful, but it can also be fragile. How many people, for example, have had awe-inspiring experiences and felt a powerful determination to change, only to revert to old patterns within a few days? Probably all of us, at one time or another. In fact, the story of human progress seems to be that of an ongoing conflict between the impulse to seek security and the impulse to seek adventure. Both are necessary for contentment, I think: we must continually move forward, but we must also rest and re-energize for the journey. Since security is by far the least threatening of the two impulses, its allure can be powerful. Sometimes it can feel like a gravitational force holding you down. Awe is one way to reach escape velocity– but like most things worth having, it can require effort to attain and maintain, thus its fragility.
Many things squelch awe. The mundane nature of everyday life can just make it hard to keep an attitude of awe. (Although, interestingly, recognizing the miracle in everyday life is also where some of the greatest awe can be found–this is what the Buddhists mean by “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”) And when we’ve gotten a poor start in life, security’s pull can be extra powerful because it can feel chronically up for grabs if we don’t hang onto it with an iron grip. Regardless of our background, when we’re operating from a place of fear, security will always win out over adventure.
This is where religion comes in. Religion serves an important purpose in society: it provides comfort and community and offers answers to life’s most mysterious questions. More importantly, it offers alleviation for the greatest of all fears: fears about mortality and death. When people seek answers to these existential questions, it is most often religion they turn to. This is the role religion claims in the modern world.
There are a few problems with this.
Mainstream Christianity thrives on its members’ fear (and this seems to be true for other religions too; I am not singling out Christianity, it’s just the religion I’m most familiar with). Those raised in a Protestant or Catholic tradition can tell you of the terror inspired by the idea of eternal damnation. And those “lost souls” seeking answers in adulthood return to the religion for answers, lured by unequivocal answers to “life’s most difficult questions,” answers that promise inner peace, an eternal resting place, and complete solace from all existential anxiety. But if a person is primarily interested in alleviating fear, there is little opportunity for awe. Rather than cultivating reverence for the Great Mystery that is life, Christians (for example) instead seem so confident they hold all the answers that they see nothing to be curious or awe-filled about. So great is their confidence, it often comes across as arrogance. Talk about true believerism!
In a tremendous irony, the very institution meant to inspire awe and man’s search for meaning instead squelches both. Because most religious people are so preoccupied with the upcoming afterlife, they tend to have little interest in the life they’re living now. They see it as drudgery, sin, pain, suffering, and evil; the body is vile and its functions something to be ashamed of; man’s achievements paltry compared to those of his Creator. I find it tremendously sad to see–and I’ve witnessed it over and over again–how disinterested, uncurious, and dismissive such people can be about the miracle of existence. How can awe germinate in such an environment?
The answer is that it rarely can. The thing most of us don’t realize, though, is that it isn’t supposed to. The church is an institution, and institutions aren’t really designed to inspire awe. Institutions are actually meant to do the opposite: they provide security, a cultural grounding and backdrop against which people can live out their lives with some sense of stability. This is a valid cultural role, but not one that is well defined. Few people understand that if you want to cultivate awe and wonder, you must generally look beyond institutions, including institutional religion. Instead, and in the same great irony, people tend to view the church as the provider of inspiration and awe. Because of this, there are some very confused ideas about the relationship between religion and spirituality.
Let me digress for a moment to define my use of the word spirituality, which can mean so many things to so many people in so many contexts (thus supplying much of the confusion). By spirituality, I mean, in a nutshell, utmost meaning; that which has the greatest potential to provide Wholeness; that which offers, ultimately, a path to enlightenment. This is intentionally broad, encompassing anything capable of inspiring awe, because awe seems to be a basic component of the search for meaning. Also, I believe that spirituality is not a choice. We are all spiritual in the sense that we all possess the same impulse to seek meaning in our lives. The only question is how we do that, and some ways are definitely better than others. Paths with the most freedom of thought and creative energy seem to offer the greatest sense of meaning for most.
By this definition, a spirituality equated with one’s religious affiliation is a rather unsophisticated one because of the built-in dogmatic restrictions. The fear-based, doctrine-based nature of institutional religion tends to hold people back rather than propel them forward. A spirituality based on awe and reverence for the great miracle of existence is, on the other hand, a more sophisticated one, one that opens doors rather than closes them, one that encourages adventure rather than promising security. This is why I believe atheism to be a form of spirituality, and a more sophisticated one than most religious beliefs: atheism is rooted in an honest quest for understanding and meaning, and as such, it leaves dogmatic beliefs in the dust. An atheist, because of his earnest desire for truth, has a far greater chance of actually finding it than a dogmatic believer of anything. Carl Sagan was, with his reverent awe for the Universe, a far more spiritual person (by my definition) than any preacher promising eternal fire to those who disagree with him.
This is not to say that people can’t find awe in religion. They can–but it usually occurs despite the institution rather than because of it (which, by the way, applies to the institution of public education, as well.) And such awe is usually focused narrowly on the religion and discouraged in other areas of life. The nature of religious institutions makes this virtually inevitable. There is a faith to defend, a dogma to decree, and a self-interested agenda of keeping the institution in business (again, nothing wrong with this, as long as we’re clear about it). Those who do find a genuine awe through their religious practice are not only the exception, they are viewed as rare individuals who have little in common with mainstream practitioners. (In the Catholic tradition, for example, they generally become saints.) Not exactly something to be ashamed of, but also not what the Sunday morning service is intended to produce.
I know there are many who will disagree with these assertions. I’m sure many religious believers would be outraged by them. I’m sure many atheists will bristle at being called spiritual. And I know that little I can say here will change the beliefs of anyone with such mindsets. Even so, I encourage everyone, regardless of their beliefs, to seek out awe and wonder and passion, to live with curiosity and zest, to strive for the sense of wonder and reverence and awe that existence deserves. In the great emptiness of space, in the great freezing vacuum of the Universe, life happened. Whatever you attribute this to–and nobody really knows!–it is beyond amazing. And anyone who ponders this with any sincerity at all can come to no other conclusion.
Awe is also, incidentally, a decent test of your spirituality–of how far you’ve gotten in your search for meaning. If your beliefs don’t inspire a sense of awe, not just for your god but for everything existence encompasses, including human fallibility and filth, then it’s likely that your spirituality is of the institutional, soothing variety, and you’ve got it confused with the scary kind, the kind that’s going to shake you up a great deal before it propels you into the Great Unknown where your True Destiny awaits. If you want to be reborn in the true sense of what Jesus meant by that term (which had nothing to do with him personally), then you must abandon comfort and chase down your fears. He–god, that is–can’t do it for you, no matter how much you want to believe he can.
Church serves a valid purpose, but it does a piss-poor job of providing both comfort and awe, and both are essentials of human consciousness. We must learn to differentiate between these two forces and understand the function (and importance) of each. With centuries of confusion on the issue and a firmly entrenched institution in the way, it’s a tough differentiation to make, but it’s necessary, not only on a personal level but on a cultural level as well. Because until we do, our moral, ethical, and spiritual power will be crippled by the confusion, and not adequate for solving the many “crises of conscience” we face in the modern world.
Last Chance Forever
During my long weekend off, my partner Jim and I went to the Minnesota State Fair. Besides eating lots of greasy, delicious food on a stick, we wanted to see the Raptor Center show. The Raptor Center is a program run by the veterinary college at the University of Minnesota that rescues sick and injured raptors and either releases them back into the wild or, if that is not possible, cares for them in captivity. Raptors, if you didn’t know, are birds of prey: hawks, eagles, owls, osprey, and the like. We got to see a great-horned owl and a screech owl from just a few feet away and learn some things about the birds we didn’t know (for example, that the red-tailed hawk’s favorite food is skunk, and that their talons are strong enough to crush a rabbit’s skull!).
By luck and proximity, we stumbled onto another raptor show called Last Chance Forever. This is a program affiliated with the Raptor Center but out of San Antonio, Texas–these guys traveled 1,200 miles to show us their birds and share their knowledge! They also had a number of cool birds, including a bay-winged hawk, a barn owl, a falcon, and a bald eagle who will never fly again because part of his wing was shot off by an ignorant dog lover. All of these birds were magnificent, and thrilling to see so close up. It was also great fun to watch the children in the audience, all of whom were mesmerized. The presentation included having the birds fly over the audience several times from presenter to presenter (so low you could feel the air current from their wings), swooping from a high point to catch food mid-air, and having a bird (the falcon, if I remember correctly) take a rolled-up dollar bill from an audience member and deposit it in the donation box. Keep in mind that, with the exception of the falcon, these were all wild birds, not trained to do tricks but rather seeking food how they’d learned to do while in captivity. The handlers were highly respectful of the birds’ wild status, careful to treat them as such and not do anything that might cause people to see them as pets.
The main presenter for Last Chance Forever was John Karger, and he was great. He seemed to understand his mission and carry it out with a sense of purpose that I rarely see in any walk of life. He talked about ecology, preservation, pollution, wildlife, and our human condition with passion and common sense, drama and clarity. He got it, and I don’t just mean his mission to save raptors. There was more to this program than that.
One of the things that impressed me was Mr. Karger’s take on vegetarianism. He did not condemn it, but he asked that vegetarians also not condemn those who eat meat. As made plain by the raptors, many animals, humans included, are designed to eat meat. We have the teeth for chewing it, the appendages for catching it, and the innards to digest it. It’s nature’s way, and to pretend otherwise isn’t realistic. This is something I’ve believed for a long time, so it resonated with me. Years ago I tried to become a vegetarian for ethical reasons–as a protest against how animals are raised and slaughtered–and found that to live a life without ingesting animal products was almost impossible in a modern society where I have little knowledge of and no control over the manufacturing processes of the products I consume. There are animal products in almost everything, including food from canned soup to crackers, and also cleaning products, beauty products, and clothes, to name just a few. Further, many of the substitutions for animal products (non-food ones, that is) come from petroleum refining, so you have to wonder which contributes to pollution more: vegetarianism, or a responsible use of animal products? After finding the effort to avoid animal products exhausting, mostly not possible, and frankly, somewhat hypocritical, I chose responsible use of animal products instead: buying humanely raised meat when possible and trying to educate myself about all the products I consumed. I came to similar conclusions as Mr. Karger about the food chain, and, I’d like to think, for similar rational reasons.
But I digress. The point I really want to make about Last Chance Forever is about getting it, and Mr. Karger’s matter-of-fact views on vegetarianism are only an example. While listening to him talk, I sensed an awe and reverence for the natural world that reminded me of Carl Sagan on Cosmos. And I realized that Mr. Karger’s work wasn’t just about saving raptors and educating people about nature (although it was definitely that); it was about waking up that sense of awe and wonder in people that makes real transformation possible.
I know Sagan is reaching back a bit, but it was he who came to mind while listening to Karger. Sagan was perhaps science’s greatest ambassador, able to communicate vastly complex ideas with a simplicity that made them accessible, at least in principle, to anyone who cared to listen. But more than that, it was his reverence for the natural world that made him so much fun to watch. He talked about the origins of the universe and the immensity of time and space with a sense of wonder that can only be described, in my opinion, as spiritual. It was impossible to remain unmoved if you really listened to what he was saying. Maybe most staggering of all, Sagan arrived at this place of wonder from an unerring commitment to the scientific method and the empirical evidence. Even as a kid, this was far more powerful to me than any dogma any church could produce. More than “opening my eyes,” watching Cosmos confirmed what I already knew somewhere deep inside myself. Something almost beyond words, beyond science, certainly beyond religion. Something that we can only be aware of and recognize as I am that.
Mr. Karger is doing very different stuff than Carl Sagan, sure, but that same sense of awe comes through in his work. And from watching him, I put together a few more pieces of the Puzzle. Inadvertently, I stumbled upon one of the things–perhaps the thing–that I’ve been writing about and struggling with, the thing that makes uncurious people curious and brings settled people out of their comfort zone.
It is a sense of awe.
That awe can be inspired by anything, and I don’t think it matters in the least what: art, science, nature, existence itself…the fact that anything exists at all! Much less conscious awareness of that fact! Or how an eyeball functions! Or how a computer works! Or the origins of the Universe! Or majestic wild birds! It also doesn’t matter what you attribute the awe to: evolution or a divine creator. Because really, they’re sort of one and the same, as the origins of both constitute the Great Mystery and Miracle of the Cosmos.
The important thing is the awe itself. Once a person experiences this, the world can never be quite the same. This is not to say that every person who watches Carl Sagan or hears John Karger talk about raptors will have such a transformation. But theirs is the work that makes such transformations possible. As such, it is the most important work anyone can do. It is the kind of work that can actually change the world.
Anyway, I wanted to publicly acknowledge Mr. Karger for his wonderful work, and also share my gratitude for helping me connect some dots I hadn’t yet been able to connect. The search goes on, but with a little more light on the horizon.
Both Last Chance Forever and the Raptor Center do great work, and neither is supported by any government funding whatsoever. They are completely reliant on private donations for their survival. If you want to support either organization, check out these links for more information and an opportunity to contribute to a great cause, not the least of which could be helping people move a step closer to their True Calling.
On Staying Unstuck
“My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.”— Ayn Rand, appendix to ‘Atlas Shrugged’
What deters moral development? What encourages it?
These are the questions we must answer—“we” being the world community, or at least those fortunate enough to be in a position to ask—if we are to truly vanquish violence as a socially acceptable way to solve problems.
This is far too huge an undertaking for me and my little blog. I don’t pretend to have the knowledge or expertise to attempt such a monumental task. Yet I believe it’s critically, vitally, vastly important for people to understand why they ought to ask these questions, and to make an effort to formulate answers for themselves, always keeping in mind the immense difficulty of doing so, and the immense ease with which we can succumb to self-deception. Such is the very essence of personal development.
It’s easy to point at people who’ve gotten a rough start in life and say, well, of course they’re going to have a harder time of it. And that’s true. Abused kids are far more likely to become troubled adults. Children raised in poverty are far more likely to turn to crime for an income and end up in prison. As sad as all this is, though (and it is tragic), these obvious ceilings to growth aren’t really what I’m getting at. Besides, many people do overcome childhood obstacles and surpass anybody’s expectations for them. So while a rough start can make growth tough, it is certainly not a guarantee of limitation.
Then you could say Well, it must be intelligence, then. The smarter you are, the further up the scale you’ll progress. But this is not the case. Cognitive development is necessary, but not sufficient, for moral development. The Nazi doctor is the classic example of this. Here were very intelligent people who thought nothing of torturing and maiming others simply because they were of a different ethnicity. (This is also why it’s such a frightening thought for fascist regimes to have weapons of mass destruction; if there’s anything the post-conventional world can agree on, it should be this.)
As a less extreme example, what about bright, college-educated Americans who believe in a literal interpretation of biblical myths? (This is called mythical religion and is sort of the adult version of believing in Santa Claus.) Not only is it irrational, it’s also at the root of some of the worst atrocities man has committed against man (e.g., the crusades, the Spanish inquisition). Or people who identify with one political ideology so strongly that they are unable to see the merits of any other, despite the multitudes of evidence surrounding them, and who will use these beliefs to support immoral wars and carry on all sorts of other immoral activities? Say what you will about these people, but stupidity is not their problem. Intelligence can get you far in life, but there are other factors that propel people forward or hold them back.
Even if you’re morally post-conventional, it’s extremely difficult to move beyond whatever level you’ve reached. Most forms of atheism—humanism, existentialism, Objectivism—are rooted in post-conventional values (man’s dignity and right to individual freedom, for example). The Ayn Rand quote above is such an eloquent view of life, and seemingly encompasses everything noble and worthwhile about humanity. And yet, Rand’s worship of the god Reason made her virulently opposed to any sort of spirituality whatsoever. She considered all forms of spirituality to be mythical—that is, as a literalization of sacred myths—and thus disdained them. In fact, she disdained pretty much everything that can’t be observed and explained. Most atheists share this view, and understandably so—it’s an intelligent response to the irrationality and silliness of the mythical religions they were raised on. But most atheists’ closed-mindedness about spirituality hinders further development, because they’re unwilling to consider a type that transcends the myths they learned as children; a spirituality that is an integral part of human makeup. Atheism is a more sophisticated worldview than mythical religion (and, I believe, a form of spirituality itself), but as far as post-conventional morality goes, it is the barest beginning of the journey.
Even people who move past atheism and pursue post-conventional forms of spirituality can get stuck in their belief systems. Many people at the post-conventional level tend to turn Buddhism into a religion (which it is not) and see concepts like reincarnation and karma (for example) as proof of cosmic justice and eternal life. So even among people who’ve reached a level of universal caring, if their concerns lie more with comfort than with truth, then devotion to their practice can actually be the prohibiting factor in achieving enlightenment. (But please, don’t take my word. For a great study of this, see Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism, by Chogyam Trungpa.)
None of this is meant as a criticism of any particular belief system. Rather, it is meant to point out the immense difficulty and dilemma of personal growth in general and moral development in particular. It seems that at every level, there is a ceiling that makes getting to the next level difficult, to say the least. It seems there is always the temptation to rest on laurels, to believe we’ve found the answer, to view the world through the blinders of our chosen paradigm and leave it at that. Of course this is the case! Because not doing this means living in a constant state of doubt and uncertainty, and that’s an awful lot to ask of ourselves.
But other than commitment to a few basic principles, such as honesty, kindness, justice and freedom, there is little else we can really be certain of. Holding these truths to be self-evident and striving to be open-minded about nearly everything else seems to be the key. Not only to personal development, but to everything that gives life meaning.
Once again, I’m back at my starting point. It’s easy enough to declare the importance of certain values, and even easy enough to make the argument why they’re important. But how do you move toward making those values a cultural norm? How do people come to value universal ethical principles when there are so many obstacles, distractions, and temptations not to? Or is that even the right approach?
If anybody has any ideas, I’d love to hear them.