Emily

A more accurate view of reality

In his fabulous book, How to Be Perfect, Michael Schur says moral philosophy can be summed up in these four questions:

What am I doing? 

Why am I doing it? 

Is there something I could do that’s better? 

Why is it better?

It’s important to note that these are questions, not statements. To live philosophically is to live reflectively. 

Maybe you think you don’t need to reflect. You’re a good person, you always try to do what’s right. Maybe you don’t even give much thought to doing what’s right—you just do it. It’s automatic.

It’s here where Aristotle, or Marcus Aurelius, or Emmanuel Kant might have reminded you that you’re not perfect. None of us are. We can always improve. And since we can always improve, we must always make an effort to improve. And we can’t make a genuine effort if we’re not mindful and aware of our everyday thoughts and actions.

I’ve found journaling to be the most useful way to reflect. I have a morning routine that I’ve used for years. It consists of a little reading and a lot of writing. (Trust me, it’s not nearly as daunting as it sounds.) I read a page from The Daily Stoic and A Calendar of Wisdom. I use a prompt from one of these books to write an intention for the day in a notebook. Then, in a separate notebook, I write my morning pages (you can read about my experience with them here). Coined by Julia Cameron, morning pages are 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness writing. The whole routine takes about 25 minutes, and it’s the most important part of my day.

The ancient Stoics knew the importance of journaling, of being reflective and mindful. Marcus Aurelius journaled in the morning to prepare himself for the day. Seneca journaled in the evening, appraising his actions, “concealing nothing” from himself. “The unexamined life is not worth living,” he said. Epictetus reminded his students to keep their philosophy lessons at hand day and night, write about them, and talk about them with others. The Stoics knew that philosophy involved daily mindfulness and work.

Perhaps they, like the Buddha and other philosophical and religious leaders, intuited what we now know to be scientifically true: left to their own devices, our minds pretty much run themselves. We have almost no control over the thoughts that pop into our conscious minds throughout the day. And this is why…

Reflective Thoughts are Truer Than Everyday Thoughts

Here’s a thought experiment, cited by Mark Manson in Everything is F*cked: A Book About Hope, that nineteenth-century sociology founder, Emile Durkheim posed: What would life be like if there was no crime? If everyone was polite and respectful to others? If no one was violent or harmed anyone? What would happen? Would we all hold hands and sing songs?

According to Durkheim, no. The opposite would happen. We wouldn’t feel happier about not killing each other—we would just become equally upset over trivial things. As Mark summarizes, “Our minds simply amplify (or minimize) our problems to fit the degree of stress we expect to feel.”

I’m using this experiment to illustrate a common theme I’ve found: our brains have their own agendas. Evolutionary psychology confirms this. In Why Buddhism Is True (a remarkable book that shows how psychology intersects philosophy), Princeton University professor, Robert Wright, explains how our evolutionary wiring distorts our view of reality. Natural selection, he says, has one goal: to get genes into the next generation. That’s it. 

The problem with natural selection’s hardwiring is that it hasn’t caught up to the modern world. The sweet tooth that compelled hunter-gatherers to eat fruit (so they would survive and get their genes into the next generation) is the same sweet tooth we have today—only now we have processed sugar at our disposal. So, if this hardwiring produces thinking that’s not aligned with reality, if it creates feelings that are disproportionate to the situation, so be it. It has its own agenda.

The times during the day when we’re doing nothing in particular—not working, not watching a movie, not playing a sport—are when this agenda becomes most pronounced. Our brains enter into what scientists call the “default mode network.” In this mode, thoughts pop into our conscious minds seemingly out of nowhere. (And because thoughts cause feelings and feelings dictate behavior, it’s easy to see why an understanding of this is important.) Scientists can only speculate as to why, exactly, one thought and not another enters into our conscious mind. But one thing is clear: thoughts think themselves.

If you’re confused, we’re in the same boat. But the gist is this: we have a lot less agency over our thoughts and feelings than we typically think.

This is why, Robert argues, mindful meditation (or, in my experience, mindfulness and journaling) can be life-altering. Being mindful of our thoughts means being observant of them, instead of being controlled by them. When we observe anything—a plant, a table, a thought, a feeling—we create distance from it. This distance allows us to not become carried away by our initial impressions. It allows us to say to it what Epictetus advised: “Hold on a moment; let me see who you are and what you represent.”

By being reflective, we become better observers of our minds. We’re quicker to notice and discard untrue and harmful thoughts. We’re able to see—even if only slightly—a more accurate view of reality.

10 things I learned, found interesting, or used this month

1. We don’t want you to be authentic, we want you to be kind. I recently wrote about Seth Godin’s advice to professionals: we don’t want you to be authentic—we want you to be professional. This got me thinking about how we can apply this to our greatest duty as human beings: being kind to one another. Oftentimes people will excuse their intolerant behavior by saying they’re just being “authentic” and “real”. But we don’t want that. We don’t want you to be authentic—we want you to be kind.

2. Mindfulness, or there’s no point. A great experience “can still end up feeling fairly meaningless if you’re incapable of directing some of your attention as you’d like. After all, to have any meaningful experience, you must be able to focus on it, at least a bit. Otherwise, are you really having it at all? Can you have an experience you don’t experience? The finest meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant might as well be a plate of instant noodles if your mind is elsewhere; and a friendship to which you never actually give a moment’s thought is a friendship in name only.” -Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks

3. From the fear of missing out, to the joy of missing out. “Once you truly understand that you’re guaranteed to miss out on almost every experience the world has to offer, the fact that there are so many you still haven’t experienced stops feeling like a problem. Instead, you get to focus on fully enjoying the tiny slice of experiences you actually do have time for—and the freer you are to choose, in each moment, what counts most.” -Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks

4. Don’t let anyone tell you reading isn’t work. We’re quick to accept a meeting invite when we’d probably be fine missing it, but how often do we schedule something that is always 100% worth our time? I’ve been scheduling a half hour each day for reading (instead of just reading when I have time) and trying not to miss it. And don’t let anyone tell you reading isn’t work. It is. It’s some of the most important work you can do.

5. There are fools and there are seekers of wisdom. Everyone else suffers. “An idiot is incapable of drawing conclusions. A [wise person] is unwilling to draw conclusions. The rest have glorified their conclusions as knowledge. The fool just enjoys whatever little he knows and [the wise person] enjoys it absolutely. The rest are the ones who constantly struggle and suffer.” -Sadhguru, Inner Engineering

6. You don’t become useful when you find your calling, you find your calling when you become useful. (Source: Kevin Kelly’s review of So Good They Can’t Ignore You)

7. Enjoy what you’ve worked for. I think of this quote whenever I feel discontentment start to creep in: “There are two things to aim at in life: first, to get what you want; and, after that, to enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second.” -Logan Pearsall Smith

8. I wrote a piece about how to handle insults. Here’s the shortened version: There’s really nothing to handle. What someone says about you doesn’t concern you—it concerns them.

9.  Roosevelt’s imperturbable cheerfulness. Theodore Roosevelt’s zest for life has been well documented. Stories abound of wilderness excursions that left him and his friends badly injured, exhausted, and starved. Through it all, according to fellow riders, Roosevelt always appeared to be having “the time of his life”. His cheerfulness persisted even when facing grave uncertainties. “What Roosevelt termed the “great day” of his life—the day that ended with the triumphant charges up Kettle Hill and San Juan Hill—began with him exhibiting to the Rough Riders the most placid morning-time demeanor,” says Doris Kearns Goodwin in Leadership in Turbulent Times, “calmly shaving and knotting a blue polka-dot bandanna around his neck. Rough Rider Arthur Crosby found it heartening ‘to see our commanding officer on the dawn of a great battle performing an everyday function as though we were on an enjoyable camping trip.'” 

10. Notable books I read this month: Buddha by Karen Armstrong, Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman, The Art of Happiness by Epicurus, and The Girl Who Would Be Free by Ryan Holiday. Also, I made a list of the best books I’ve ever read.

Relax, you’ll never get it all done

The problem with most time management systems, says Oliver Burkeman in his amazing book, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, is that they don’t work. They tell you that you can get it all done, if only you manage your time just right. With enough preparation and calculation, you can have everything in perfect working order. 

But have you ever noticed how the second you complete your to-do list, it gets filled right back up? You answer an email only to receive another one. You finish vacuuming and now have time to do the dishes. “Productivity is a trap,” Oliver says. “Becoming more efficient just makes you more rushed, and trying to clear the decks simply makes them fill up again faster.”

The problem is that we think of time as something to master, something separate from ourselves—instead of what it is: the unfolding of one moment to the next, the substance of life. “Once time is a resource to be used, you start to feel pressure … and to berate yourself when you feel you’ve wasted it,” Oliver says. So we end up filling our time with activities that have some future benefit. It becomes harder to just be, to accept and love the present moment for what it is. “We labor at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary to sustain our life,” said Nietzsche, “because to us it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.”

Oliver compares our view of time to an early medieval England peasant’s view: 

“The medieval farmer simply had no reason to adopt such a bizarre idea in the first place. … There was no need to think of time as something abstract and separate from life: you milked the cows when they needed milking and harvested the crops when it was harvest time … There was no anxious pressure to ‘get everything done,’ either, because a farmer’s work is infinite: there will always be another milking and another harvest, forever, so there’s no sense in racing toward some hypothetical moment of completion.”

There will never be some magical day in the future when you will feel completely in control, when everything will be clean and completed, when there will be nothing left to do. We can’t possibly get everything done (in fact, we have to neglect almost everything to get anything done). 

But this is great news.

It means we can stop pushing happiness and contentment into the future. We’re free to relax in the boundless joy of the present moment. “We can enjoy a lazy hour for its own sake,” says Oliver, by “first accepting the fact that this is it: that your days aren’t progressing toward a future state of perfectly invulnerable happiness, and that to approach them with such an assumption is systematically to drain [life of its] value.”

Love is a choice

Holocaust survivor, Dr. Edith Eva Eger, was a young teenager when she was sent to a Nazi concentration camp. On the day of her arrival, her parents were ushered to the gas chamber by a guard who, later that same day, made her dance for him for his entertainment. In her incredible book The Choice, Dr. Eger—now a world-renowned psychologist—recounts how she was tested by a patient—a fourteen-year-old boy, sent to her by a judge, for car theft. The boy leaned on her desk and said, “I’m going to kill all the Jews.” He said he would also kill anyone who wasn’t white. He went on ranting about the blights to America’s purity.

“I thought I would be sick,” Dr. Eger says. “I struggled not to run from the room. What is the meaning of this? I wanted to shout. I wanted to shake the boy, say, Who do you think you’re talking to? I saw my mother go to the gas chamber. … My whole being trembled with unease, and I struggled with the inclination to wag my finger, shake my fist, make him accountable for his hate—without being accountable for my own. This boy didn’t kill my parents. Withholding my love wouldn’t conquer his prejudice.”

She prayed for the ability to meet him with love—the accepting and unconditional love she gave to all her patients. “I summoned every image I had of unconditional love.” She called to mind a story of one of the Righteous Gentiles, Corrie ten Boom, who was sent with her family to a concentration camp. Corrie’s sister died there, in her arms. Eventually, she was released (due to a clerical error) and a few years later, met with one of the vilest guards at her camp—one of the guards who was responsible for her sister’s death. She could have lashed out at him, spit at him, wished him the worst. Instead, “she prayed for the strength to forgive him, and she took his hands in her own. She says that in that moment, the former prisoner clasping the hands of the former guard, she felt the purest and most profound love.”

“I wondered if it was possible that this racist boy had been sent to me so I could learn about unconditional love,” Dr. Eger remembers thinking. “What opportunity did I have in this moment? What choice could I make right then that could move me in the direction of love?”

She decided to let the boy talk. She listened. She realized they had a lot in common. She had lost her parents, and so had he. “We both thought of ourselves as damaged goods. In letting go of my judgment, in letting go of my desire for him to be or believe anything different, by seeing his vulnerability and his yearning for belonging and love, in allowing myself to get past my own fear and anger in order to accept and love him, I was able to give him something [he] couldn’t [give himself]—an authentic image of his own worth. When he left my office that day, he didn’t know a thing about my history. But he had seen an alternative to hate and prejudice, he was no longer talking about killing, he had shown me his soft smile. And I had taken responsibility that I not perpetuate hostility and blame, that I not bow to hate and say, You are too much for me. … We have the capacity to hate and the capacity to love. Which one we reach for—our inner Hitler or inner ten Boom—is up to us.”

Slow productivity

“Don’t underestimate the amount of time professional idea-people spend thinking,” says Cal Newport. In So Good They Can’t Ignore You, he argues that we should use a craft-centric instead of a productivity-centric approach to our work. A productivity-centric approach is geared toward checking items off a to-do list; a craft-centric one involves deep thinking and deliberate practice. While the productivity-centric route is much more alluring (redesigning your website is less painful and ambiguous than, say, grappling with a new theory), it’s the craft-centric mindset where you will experience the most growth. And over time, the growth will be profound. “My working habits are simple,” Ernest Hemingway famously said, “long periods of thinking, short periods of writing.”

This craft-centric approach ties in perfectly with the emerging topic of slow productivity (prompted by recent books like How to Do Nothing and Four Thousand Weeks). In this YouTube video, Cal explains the 3 elements of slow-productivity (which I wrote on a notecard and taped to my computer):

1. Do fewer things

2. Work at a natural pace

3. Obsess over quality

“If you seek tranquility, do less,” said Marcus Aurelius. “Doing what’s essential brings a double satisfaction: to do less, better.”

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