Blog on mind and brain research and advice

Fear of Cannibals

January 20, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

or, Learning How to Read Our Fears

Fear is one of the components of any significant transition, especially those made in midlife and later. At least the fear that accompanies these transitions seems to have a different flavor, maybe more urgency. But fear finds all of us at some point in our lives. We are human; therefore, we have fears. The question is, what do we do with or about them.

Karen Thompson Walker, author of The Age of Miracles, gave a TED talk in June 2012 called “What Our Fears Can Teach Us.”

As we grow up, we’re often encouraged to think of fear as a weakness, just another childish thing to discard like baby teeth or roller skates. And I think it’s no accident that we think this way. Neuroscientists have actually shown that human beings are hard-wired to be optimists. So maybe that’s why we think of fear, sometimes, as a danger in and of itself.” Don’t worry,” we like to say to one another. “Don’t panic.” In English, fear is something we conquer. It’s something we fight. It’s something we overcome. But what if we looked at fear in a fresh way? What if we thought of fear as an amazing act of the imagination, something that can be as profound and insightful as storytelling itself?

She has an interesting premise, which is that if we look at our fears as stories, they might be able to teach us something.

Now we might just as easily call these fears by a different name. What if instead of calling them fears, we called them stories? Because that’s really what fear is, if you think about it. It’s a kind of unintentional storytelling that we are all born knowing how to do. And fears and storytelling have the same components. They have the same architecture. Like all stories, fears have characters.In our fears, the characters are us. Fears also have plots. They have beginnings and middles and ends. You board the plane. The plane takes off. The engine fails. Our fears also tend to contain imagery that can be every bit as vivid as what you might find in the pages of a novel….Fears also have suspense.

What Will Happen Next?

Just like all great stories, our fears focus our attention on a question that is as important in life as it is in literature: What will happen next? In other words, our fears make us think about the future. And humans, by the way, are the only creatures capable of thinking about the future in this way, of projecting ourselves forward in time, and this mental time travel is just one more thing that fears have in common with storytelling.

Of all the possible things that could happen next, what fearful outcome(s) do you focus on? What’s your fear story? Walker’s TED talk centers around the 1819 sinking of the whaleship Essex more than 3,000 miles off the coast of Chile–an event that inspired parts of Moby Dick. The ship’s sailors had to make a decision about what to do–mainly which shore they should try to reach.

Walker quotes Vladimir Nabokov as saying that the best reader has a combination of two very different temperaments: the passion of an artist to get caught up in a story and the coolness of judgment to temper his or her intuitive reactions to it.

The sailors of the Essex, Walker says, had the artistic ability to vividly imagine many horrific outcomes–including being eaten by cannibals–but they were unable to apply the coolness of judgment to them. They were not adept at reading their own fear stories.

Reading Our Fears

Who or what are the cannibals in your imagination? Why are they so compelling? What is the likelihood they will actually “get” you? Does their specter swallow your attention and take it away from what actually needs attending to or from seeing things more clearly, more coolly?

Properly read, our fears can offer us something as precious as our favorite works of literature:a little wisdom, a bit of insight and a version of that most elusive thing–the truth.

Watch/listen to the complete TED talk:

Living, Aging, and Creating

January 17, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell 1 Comment

A dozen quotes to ponder, laugh over, or even use as journal writing prompts.

I kept thinking there’s bound to be something else. I could hear it sometimes, but I couldn’t play it. – Charlie Parker

For many people, reality is an acquired taste. At first glance, you may have uncomfortable and disturbing experiences. – Robert Fritz

I left myself, drove all night without stopping, called myself from a phone booth to say I was sorry it had to be this way. – Sy Safransky, “The Sun” magazine

If you are lucky enough to find a way of life you love, you have to find the courage to live it. – John Irving

Who I am is just the habit of what I always was, and who I’ll be is the result. – Louise Erdrich, “I’m a Mad Dog Biting Myself for Sympathy.”

He closed his eyes. He was aware of so much, and it all escaped him. – David Plante, “The Woods”

We outlive ourselves. We look back and recognize no one. – Joyce Carol Oates, “Childwold”

If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are headed. – Lao Tzu

It is common sense to take a method and try it; if it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something. – Franklin D. Roosevelt

If you have a talent, use it in every which way possible. Don’t hoard it. Don’t dole it out like a miser. Spend it lavishly like a millionaire intent on going broke. – Brendan Behan

A person dies for the first time at the age when he loses his enthusiasm. – Honoré de Balzac

If you prepare for old age, old age comes sooner. – Dr. Robert Anthony

The Consistency Hobgoblin

January 13, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell 2 Comments

Eat Your Vegetables, They're Good For You! — Eat Your Vegetables, They’re Good For You! (Photo credit: the bridge)

Consistency is a concept that has developed a bad rap, at least in some neighborhoods. I’m not sure why this is but I suspect it’s because consistent has become another thing we should be, at least in regard to developing those habits that are good for us. Right off the bat, labeling a habit as being good for us automatically makes it a tough sell. If it was something we were going to enjoy, we wouldn’t have to persuade ourselves to do it on a regular basis, would we?

For some, consistent = boring and repetitious. It connotes a lack of spontaneity and freedom and engenders an instantaneous desire to rebel. It evokes, for those folks, the mental image of swallowing an evil-tasting pill. Ugh.

For others, consistency is nearly as elusive to achieve as locating the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It seems like a really good idea. At least they’ve heard that it is. Not being consistent at maintaining good for them habits makes some of these people feel bad about themselves and what they perceive of as their lack of will power.

For yet others, consistency is but a speck in the rear view mirror as they speed past it all the way to rigidity. Good ideas, good for them habits, personal goals or intentions—all are transformed into self-imposed rules that must—and will—be adhered to no matter what.

Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead. –Aldous Huxley

Maybe we ought to look a little deeper into those things we think we should be more consistent about. When you hear yourself say I know I should be [fill in the blank], stop and ask yourself why you think you should be doing—or not doing—whatever it is. Because it’s good for you isn’t a good enough answer.

If you can’t come up with a better one, maybe you’re putting the cart before the horse. Maybe you’re trying to make some positive changes without having clearly defined what you are aiming for in the long run. What do you want to get out of being more consistent about [fill in the blank] and why do you want that? What is the overall positive outcome you’re trying to achieve?

If you’re aiming for something you really want, and you identify the steps it will take to get there, it’s a lot easier to be consistent about taking them. I don’t mean to imply it’s that simple or easy because it isn’t. But if you have gotten to this point and you know the what and the why of the habit you want to change or begin or improve, there’s a process, outlined by Charles Duhigg in The Power of Habit, that can help you do it.

Habits are powerful, but delicate. They can emerge outside our consciousness, or can be deliberately designed. They often occur without our permission, but can be reshaped by fiddling with their parts. They shape our lives far more than we realize—they are so strong, in fact, that they cause our brains to cling to them at the exclusion of all else, including common sense. –-Charles Duhigg

Since there’s an element in the formation and continuation of habits that is outside of our conscious awareness, we may as well stop beating ourselves up over our track records in regard to consistency. Much more useful to learn how to work with what scientists call “the habit loop.” Duhigg’s book is a great place to start.

~ ~ ~

Thank you, Beverly, Jean, and Linda. 🙂

No App for Happiness

January 10, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell 2 Comments

We know now that external circumstances don’t predicate happiness. As we know, there are many poor people who are very happy and wealthy people who are extremely depressed, suicidal. What I’m talking about is the daily experience of a meaningful life. I find that when people feel like they have meaning in their lives, they define themselves as happy. They want to get up in the morning. It’s not just a fleeting experience because they had a glamorous holiday or won the lottery or something, but they actually have meaning. Meaning brings fulfillment. So the first imperative is self-awareness.

Max Strom, author of There Is No App for Happiness
Interviewed by Suzanne Lindgren in the January/February 2013 Utne Reader

The book isn’t yet available. But here’s Max Strom giving a TEDx talk in Greenville:

If you listen to/watch the video, please note that Max Strom is on Facebook. 🙂

Everything Happens…

January 6, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell 1 Comment

Whenever I hear someone say that everything happens for a reason, I have to bite my tongue. The words are usually uttered either to comfort someone or to explain something that is very painful or difficult and often sudden. But I’ve never been sure how that’s supposed to work. Are we supposed to feel better because there was a reason for what happened? Are we supposed to be less devastated, injured, or cold and hungry (if we were to end up on the street, say)? I’d certainly want to know the reason why that happened.

But the point of the proverb is that we don’t or can’t know the reason, so we just have to trust that there is one. We are also supposed to believe that no matter how awful whatever it is is, it is in our best interest. Our long-term best interest, needless to say, since in the short-term it seems to be a monkey-wrench of major or minor proportion.

But reason implies intent on the part of someone or something—God or maybe the universe that is reputedly poised to align itself with our wishes. So God or the (sentient?) universe intentionally set this up as a means to some end. Since we aren’t privy to knowing why, we’ll just have to stumble along, suck it up Job-like, and wait for the outcome to be revealed.

In the meantime, we can try to wrest some meaning from it.

A Narrative Device?

Theological and philosophical minds much greater than mine have wrestled with this issue and arrived at their own conclusions. A simple explanation is this. Humans began making up stories to explain the world around them as soon as they had the language for it. It’s what we do. We crave explanation and certainty and the logical narrative structure that stories provide. Everything happens for a reason is merely a device for tying up those loose ends in the story that can’t otherwise be satisfactorily explained. Perhaps the reason will be revealed in the sequel.

All any of us can say with certainty is that everything that happens happens. Events we don’t expect may feel random, but there are plenty of here-and-now cause-and-effect explanations for most of what occurs. Those explanations may not be particularly satisfying, however. Bad things happen to good people. And it can be very difficult to come to terms with them when they do. Believing that everything happens for a reason might make someone feel less isolated and victimized and more hopeful that the terrible circumstance will eventually lead to a greater good.

It’s interesting, though, that we don’t use this expression or seek to find the deeper meaning when sudden and inexplicable good fortune befalls us. Shouldn’t the corollary be that unexpected happy events will eventually give rise to painful ones?

Maybe

Have you heard the Taoist story Maybe?

An old farmer worked his crops for many years. His horse ran away one day. His neighbors heard about this and came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said.

“Maybe,” replied the farmer.

The next morning, the farmer’s horse returned, bringing three other wild horses with it. “Wonderful!” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

The following day, the farmer’s son was trying to ride one of the wild horses but was thrown from it and broke his leg. The neighbors sympathized with the farmer’s misfortune.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The day after that, some military officials came to the farmer’s village to draft young men into the army. Since the farmer’s son’s leg was broken, they did not take him. The farmer’s neighbors congratulated him on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” he said.

Is this story implying there was a master plan in place that caused the farmer’s horse to run away, find and return with the wild horse the farmer’s son tried to ride but couldn’t, thereby breaking his leg and exempting himself from the military draft? Of course not.

The meaning of events is determined by the contexts within which they occur. As contexts change or are redefined, our interpretation of the meaning of events changes, too. We can count on the fact that contexts–and perspectives–will change. Does that mean that an event that seems disastrous today will look totally different down the road? Maybe.

or, Learning How to Read Our Fears

What Will Happen Next?

Reading Our Fears

A Narrative Device?

Maybe

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