Myths and Manners

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me?  If I am only for myself, what am I?”  (Hillel the Elder, c. 110 BCE – 10 CE)

Long, long ago, in a time before selfies and tweets, the destructive legacy of narcissism was told in ancient Greek mythology.  Narcissus was a young and handsome hunter, loved by many maidens, but cold and indifferent to them all.  Cursed by those whose love he spurned, he came upon a pool of water whose surface was like polished silver.  He had never seen his own reflection.  Doing so, he fell in love.  He stretched out his arms to grasp the lovely reflection of himself, but as he touched the water his image dissolved into ripples.  Day after day he peered into the water, tearful and longing for his reflection.  Consumed by self-love he withered away, leaving only a small flower that bears his name.

Narcissus grew up in a culture where physical beauty was worshipped, and he was quite handsome.  His mother Selene was a minor goddess, and his father Endymion a mortal.  Together, Selene and Endymion had one boy, Narcissus, and fifty daughters.  Endymion was himself a handsome and vain man who chose to sleep eternally, believing that by doing so he would escape aging and death.  Imagine being raised in a dysfunctional Greek family by an absent (sleeping) father, a goddess for a mother, and fifty sisters.

What do we learn from the story of Narcissus?  First, a vain and self-absorbed child came from the home a vain and self-absorbed parent.  Second, trapped in self-absorption, both child and parent ceased to live meaningful lives.

So, what’s a parent to do?  According to contemporary French philosopher Andre Comte-Sponville, teach children to be polite.  Learning good manners is a child’s first lesson in seeing beyond one’s self and into the feelings, needs and comfort of another. Children learn from manners how to live with others in a shared world.  And while some can learn manners but otherwise lack virtue, no one can acquire virtue without having first learned to care about others.

I still remember a book given to me by my parents when I was in Kindergarten. Manners Can Be Fun by Munro Leaf.  Written in 1936 and still in print, Manners Can Be Fun was all about the importance of ‘please’, and ‘thank-you’ and ‘excuse me’ so as not to become like the Noiseys, the Whineys, the Pigs and the Me-Firsts.

I suppose the story of Narcissus could have been quite different had Selene and Endymion taught him at a young age to say (in Greek of course), "please," "thank-you" and "excuse me."  If good manners had been learned as a child, Narcissus may not have become a Me-First.  Had there been responsible adult guidance, he might have learned to see beyond his own self-reflection.

Winter's End

These are days of malaise and ennui.  Pronounce the word “malaise” slowly, with the proper French accent, and you might almost guess its meaning; a vague feeling of uneasiness or discomfort.  “Ennui,” another French word, conveys a similarly dysphoric state of mind; weariness and dissatisfaction resulting from inactivity.  French has given to English these lyrical synonyms for discontent and tedium.

It has been a long, cold and wet winter.  I feel the malaise and ennui.  I’m ready for spring.  The winter weather has been unsettling. It seems that almost every day there has been a news story about the weather, weather anomalies and catastrophes that seem to confirm global climate change.  As I write this blog, the eastern half of Nebraska is under water.  There is no longer a direct route open from Kansas City to Omaha.  I will need to detour through Des Moines in order to get to my family.

The political climate this winter has been unsettling and stormy, often hitting all-time lows. There have been indictments and guilty verdicts of high-profile ex-confidants to the president, the expectation being of more to come.  There have been no calming and reassuring fireside chats from our leader.  Instead, we’ve gotten a barrage of self-serving, insulting and factually inaccurate tweets.

There has been increasing political polarization in our country, with the fringes getting louder and grabbing more attention.  From the extreme far right there are increasing threats and acts of violence directed towards minorities, this being written three days after the massacre of Muslims in New Zealand. It seems the white nationalist vision for a great America is to Make America Nazi Germany Again.  And from those on the far left, some of whom are now seated members of Congress, we hear the socialist class-based rantings for revolution, which calls to mind two more French words:  Robespierre and guillotine.

Today, the last day of winter, it was warm and sunny, sweater weather, a day to be outdoors.  I went to the lake to find peace, to find solitude and to fish.  When I first arrived, the water’s polished surface was unbroken.  There were no concentric circles indicative of fish feeding.  There were no telltale ripples, wakes created by the dorsal fins of fish in motion.  I half-heartedly cast my line into the water, with little expectation.  But after 30-minutes or so, I had a bite and a reasonable size bass on the end of my line.  The fish’s fight was lethargic, as-if not yet fully awake from winter’s dormancy.  But it was one fish more than I expected to catch, and one more than was needed to make for a good day of fishing.

Later that afternoon, the water's glassy surface was broken by a splash, then another and another.  Soon, there were hundreds of little splashes, as-if the water was beginning to boil.  This was a school of shad, being hunted and eaten by hungry bass, the bass fattening up in preparation for their spring spawn.  By the afternoon’s end, I wound up catching a dozen fish, mostly small, all of them somewhat lethargic, still warming up, awakening from their sleep.

A school of shad, bass preparing to spawn, fish on my line; these were all welcomed and tangible reminders that this most difficult winter is almost over.  I expect the malaise and ennui to pass with the promise of good fishing ahead. Today is the end of winter. Tomorrow is the beginning of a new spring season, the season for re-creation, for joie de vivre.

Killing Time

“. . . life never ceases to offer us a meaning up to its last moment, up to our last breath.”  (Viktor Frankl, 1905—1997)

I have met too many young people who see no meaning or purpose to their lives.  They have no goals, no dreams, no aspirations. So, they fill their hours and days in mindless escapism.  They don’t look at the world with curiosity and wonder.  They barely glance up from their electronic screens.  They are not motivated to learn.  They seek to be entertained.  They don’t experience life as a great quest and adventure.  They seek escape from life’s challenges and responsibilities.  They don’t feel an obligation to others or a connection to a greater whole.  They seek release from boredom.  They don’t tolerate delayed gratification.  What they want, they want now.  This existential crisis, this crisis of meaninglessness, has no official diagnosis but it is real.

These youths came to my office for a variety of reasons.  Some were seen because of school problems or behavioral problems.  Some were seen because they were using drugs and alcohol.  Some came with suicidal threats or self-inflicted cuts, cutting usually for the purpose of feeling something, anything.  What all of them shared in common was boredom, emptiness, irritability and despair.

What happens to them?  Some continue on, numb to their existence in this world, living without goals, immersed in escapism, fleeing boredom and trying unsuccessfully to fill the emptiness.  Some become overwhelmed with their emptiness and despair.  I think that this group explains, in part, the rising incidence of suicide in youth.  Some, seeking to find purpose and meaning, will be seduced on-line by marginalized or radicalized groups offering acceptance, belonging, and a ‘worthy’ cause to fight for.

There are some who will successfully escape from their existential emptiness and find a meaningful pathway.  Often this happens with the support of a caring parent, mentor, teacher or therapist.  A well-known existential therapist, Irving Yalom, believed that the key word for success is ‘engagement’.  These young people must put aside their world of trivial pursuits and become engaged in constructive and creative activities.  These young people need to become engaged with others and to become engaged in service to others. They need a dream, a vision of their future, goals, high aspirations, and a plan. They need the support of grown-ups who are empathic to challenges but unaccepting of excuses.  Change is hard, but it is possible. Life becomes purposeful and meaningful when life is filled with important and meaningful pursuits.

From the vantage point of an older adult who appreciates the value time, I see that there is so much at stake. To those for whom life has no meaning, time is expendable, something to be killed.  But if life is filled with meaning, and I believe it is, then time is a precious gift and killing time a tragic waste.  I have met too many young people who are getting away with murder.

Word Retrieval

I was driving the car and thinking to myself.  I can’t remember what about.  Whatever it was, my thinking was derailed by a problem I encountered with word retrieval.  Ironically, I was trying to remember the word used to describe an experience, often mystical or religious, that cannot be described in words.

When I can’t think of a word, which happens not infrequently, my first strategy is to say a sentence leaving a blank for the forgotten word, hoping the sentence will trigger the memory.  “Mystics often refer to (blank) experiences.”  Didn’t work.

That having failed, I implement strategy number two.  I go through the alphabet.  A, B, C . . . “E”, I think the word I’m trying to remember starts with the letter “E”.

Elemental . . . no, that’s not it.  Efficacious . . . no.  Epiphanous, no. Epiphenomenal, no. Elegiastical.  Elegiastical, where did that come from?  Is that even a word?

Anyway, as I am unable to think of the word, I get increasingly frustrated, The tension builds as the word just won’t come to me.  “E”, I’m sure it begins with “E”.  “E” what?  Maybe, if I go through the alphabet again, I can get the second sound.  For some reason, I’m almost certain the word begins with “E-L” or “E-F”.  Furthermore, I think the word has 3 syllables. Da'-duh-duh, emphasis on the first syllable.  How do I know that?  I don’t know. I just do.

The word still doesn’t come to me, but the worry does.  Is this normal?  Is this part of aging?  Is this the sign of early dementia?  There’s been too much Alzheimer’s in my family.  The thought of it terrifies me.

I could use my phone and look up the word.  Using Google as my mental laxative, I could rapidly and easily relieve the tension and get the impacted word out of my head.  But this is too important to take the easy way out.  There’s too much at stake.  This is about my memory and my brain.  I need to think of the word, no shortcuts.

I take a deep breath and try to relax.  I say to myself that if I stop thinking about it for a while then it will suddenly come to me.  I try to stop thinking about it.  It doesn’t come to me.  I can’t stop thinking about it.  I say to myself start over.  Maybe your wrong and it doesn’t start with “E”.

My mental anguish is interrupted by the arrival at my destination, Costco.  I get out of the car, I get my shopping cart and I show my card at the door.

“INEFFABLE,” out of nowhere, that’s it, that’s the word, “INEFFABLE.”

AAAHHHHHHHHHH, what a relief!  It’s hard to describe in words.

Sam the Fisherman

Many years ago, I saw a remarkable young man who I’ll call Sam.  Parents and teachers were concerned about Sam’s poor grades.  He worked hard in school but could barely pass.  Sam was well-mannered and well-liked.  He wasn’t depressed nor was he particularly anxious.  Over the course of my assessment, I found that Sam had a below-average IQ and severe learning disabilities.  Sam didn’t have a mental health challenge.  He had a significant educational challenge.  Neither therapy nor medication was going to make school easy for Sam.  In order to get through school, Sam would have to work harder than most.

For many children with learning disabilities it is a challenge to face each school day, keep their heads above water and not drown in frustration.  But despite the challenges he faced, Sam found a unique way to maintain his pride, dignity, and self-esteem.  Sam was determined that someday he would join The Bass Pro Fishing Tour.  Fortunately, Sam was supported by his teachers and parents.  In class, he could read about fishing.  He could write about fishing.  He could do his school projects about fishing.

In the summers, Sam helped at the local bait shop.  When he was sixteen, he got a part time job at a sporting goods store.  If you wanted to know where to fish on the lake, or what lure to use, Sam was the go-to guy.  Sam became a very good fisherman and a valued employee.

I once met a company executive who recruited High School graduates.  He would have liked Sam.  He told me that he didn’t care much about the grades on a resume.  If someone was a quick learner, they could be trained in a couple of months.  If someone was a slow learner, it might take longer.  What he cared most about was what he couldn’t teach.  He couldn’t teach a new hire motivation, responsibility or integrity.  Sam had it all.

I’ve had many occasions to tell Sam’s story to parents of children with academic challenges.  I want them to know that there are pathways to success that are not measured by grades.  Challenges can be overcome if met with courage and perseverance.  It is not always easy, but it is always important, to help these children find their niche by identifying and pursuing talents and interests. Year after year, struggling in school, Sam’s passion for fishing was his life preserver. Sam never got good grades, but he graduated from school with his self-esteem intact.  For Sam, his fishing became not only a hobby and a social outlet, but an employable skill.

After graduating from High School, Sam found a full-time position as a manager in the fishing department of a sporting goods store.  After that, I lost track of Sam.  I know he was doing what he loved and what he did well.  I don’t know if he ever made it to The Bass Pro Tour.  It doesn’t really matter.

Mind over Matter

“Metaphor is the most powerful tool which the human imagination can employ in relation to the mystery of reality as a whole.”  (Professor Francis J. Ambrosio, 1949--)

Mind or matter, which came first?  Scientists say that in the beginning there was a Big Bang from which came matter and energy.  It was billions of years later before the ability to perceive, to feel and to know somehow evolved out of the matter and energy of the universe.  But, is the opposite possible?  Was knowing created from matter and energy, or is it possible that the matter and energy of the world was created from knowing?  Was the world created from Mind?

The idea seems unscientific.  Fortunately, the mind is its own laboratory where experiments can happen.  Einstein did it best, with his famous thought experiments about relativity.  I’m no Einstein, but I love to experiment.  I remember in Junior High arguing with a friend about a very familiar thought experiment.  “If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?”  My current thought experiment can be thought of as a variation on this question. Welcome to my lab.

We are told that in the beginning was a Big Bang,

And a new world was filled with matter and energy.

But there was no mind, no knowing, no awareness.

All was void and without form.

Because . . .

Without Mind that perceives, there are no colors, sounds, smells or textures.

Without Mind that compares, there is neither short nor long, neither big nor small, neither hot nor cold. The world is void of all relative attributes.

Without Mind that measures, there is no time and there is no distance.

Without Mind that describes, there are no words.

Without Mind that creates, there are no inventions, no writings, no art and no music.

Without Mind that learns, there is no history, no science, no mathematics.

Without Mind that feels, there are no emotions, no wishes, and no desires.  There is no love and no hate, no pleasure and no pain, no joy and no sorrow.

Without Mind that judges, there is no beauty and no ugliness. There is no good or bad, no right or wrong.

Without Mind, the world is void and without form.

But there is Mind. And the world is not void but filled with colors and shapes and sizes and all variety of forms.

And from Mind all that is our world, as we know it, came to be.

End of experiment. That’s what was on my mind.  Hope it mattered to you.