Believing that reasons are responsible for what we feel, think, and do is a habit of thought that has many characteristics of an addiction. We have to have reasons. We can’t imagine living without them. Coming up with a good reason for something is one of the most satisfying experiences we can have.
Even when we recognize–conceptually–that reasons don’t actually exist and that the reason habit is self-destructive and delusional, we still can’t just quit reasons cold turkey.
So here’s a 4-step program that may help.
Step 1
Admit that you can’t do (or not do) anything without having a reason for it.
I did (or didn’t do) Y becauseof X.
You can’t think, feel, or do anything other than what you think, feel, or do because reasons cause you to think and feel certain things—and do (or not do) the things you do. You are at the effect, and at the mercy, of all the causes surrounding you. You are powerless. A pawn in the Game of Life. (Too melodramatic? Not really.)
Step 2
Question the assumption that reasons have both an independent existence and a direct cause-and-effect relationship with what you think, feel, and do.
X happened, and so I decided to do (or not do) Y.
Take a deep breath. Insert yourself into the equation. When you take some responsibility, you also regain some of your autonomy and power. Notice your reaction.
Step 3
Recognize that no direct cause-and-effect relationship necessarily exists between what happens (or what happened–especially in the far distant past) and what you think, feel, or do.
X happened and I did (or didn’t do) Y.
When you stop habitually turning situations, events, conditions, encounters, and incidents into reasons, you reclaim even more of your power. Notice that far more possibilities exist than you may have previously recognized.
Step 4
Free yourself from the habit of creating reasons to justify and explain every little thing. Just do it. Or don’t do it.
I did (or didn’t do) Y.
Discover and exercise your amazing ability to simply act. Experience the freedom of being a cause rather than an effect.
Alice through the Looking Glass (Photo credit: sammydavisdog)
…so don’t swallow that pill!
If you’re playing small, making yourself small, or trying to convince yourself and everyone else that you’re too small to make a difference or to be worth bothering with, just stop it.
Undoubtedly you have reasons for playing small, but the reasons don’t matter.
A hundred people may come up with a hundred different reasons, but they’re all in futile pursuit of the same basic stuff:
Pursuit of these things is futile because they are either impossible to get or impossible to get and keep—ironically, especially by playing small.
If you want a guarantee, buy a toaster. –Clint Eastwood
People who are playing small are usually also pursuing happiness, but they would prefer not to be disturbed. Maybe this is the source of the idea of being happy as a clam—or happy as a clam at high tide, which is the complete idiom, high tide being the time when clams are least likely to be disturbed by clam diggers. Unfortunately being alive and being disturbed kind of go hand-in-hand unless you’re living in some kind of protective bubble.
If you’re aiming for safety, security, contentment, satisfaction, and certainty, what are you willing to give up in exchange? Are you willing to give up your freedom? Your vitality, energy, and power? The possibilities for joy, adventure, creativity, spontaneity, and aliveness? Are you willing to give up your life? How afraid are you of failing, making a mistaken, losing, getting hurt, having to expend too much effort, being outside your comfort zone? Have you set most of your expectations of yourself so low that even when you meet them it merits nothing more than a yawn?
You’re bigger than that. Maybe its time to try taking the other pill, metaphorically speaking.
I want to live in the world, not inside my head
I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted
With the hopeful and the willing
With the open and the strong
With the voices in the darkness
Fashioning daylight out of song
And the millions of lovers
Alive in the world
I want to live in the world, not behind some wall
I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call
To the prisoner inside me
To the captive of my doubt
Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out
And taking his chances
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and finally arrive in the world
With its beauty and its cruelty
With its heartbreak and its joy
With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy
And the infinite power of change
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and finally arrive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and finally arrive in the world
There’s an enormous difference between being unclear—not knowing which step to take—and being uncertain—not knowing what the outcome of taking that step will be. It’s important to recognize whether it’s a lack of clarity or the fear of uncertainty that might be getting in your way.
When your mind is confused at the outset, it’s probably not a good time to act. If you are weighing one action against another and making lists of pros and cons, you’re unclear. As counterintuitive as it may sound, thinking about the situation more or harder won’t make it any clearer. When you’re clear, the path to take is obvious. Only the details remain to be worked out.
But if you’re waiting until you’re certain of the outcome of your action, you will likely never act because the outcome is never certain. We can’t yet predict the future. And why would we want to? As Ursula Le Guin said, “The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.”
The unconscious part of our brain is biased against uncertainty, and so we are biased against it, too. But trying to avoid uncertainty is tremendously limiting, not to mention a fool’s game.
Certainty itself is an emotional state, not an intellectual one. To create a feeling of certainty, the brain must filter out far more information than it processes, which, of course, greatly increases its already high error rate during emotional arousal. In other words, the more certain you feel, the more likely you are wrong.
Mental focus, the foundation of feelings of certainty, distorts reality by magnifying and amplifying one or two aspects of it while filtering out everything else. You might discover more detail about the one or two aspects you focus on, but what you discover will have no contextual meaning, because you have isolated those aspects from their dynamic interaction with the rest of the reality in which they exist. In other words, focus magnifies things out of proportion and blows them out of context. —Stephen Stosny, Ph.D.
What is certain is settled, known, and impervious to change. Uncertainty may be frightening, but…
Uncertainty is where things happen. It is where the opportunities—for success, for happiness, for really living—are waiting. —Martha Nussbaum
