Welcome, and thank you for visiting Sherpa of the Mind!
Sherpas are expert mountaineers who work as guides in the Himalayas. If you ever decide to climb Mt. Everest, you will want to employ Sherpas. The work of a psychotherapist is much like that of a Sherpa. We serve as expert guides, helping travelers reach distant summits safely and efficiently. It is up to the individual client to choose the summit, but we lend our expertise in selecting routes, recognizing hazards, marking accomplishments, and pointing out the beauty of the journey itself.
This blog is a place for sharing the observations, reflections, and insights of my work. I don’t claim to have access to any special wisdom or knowledge, and nothing expressed here should be taken as professional advice or as a substitute for professional services.
Enjoy!
Jeffrey Noethe, Ph.D. Licensed Psychologist Portland, Oregon
By Jeffrey Noethe, Ph.D., on May 26th, 2010
It was a client who first shared with me the idea that guilt is not meant to be carried around as a burden. Rather, it is more like an alarm. I liked this idea, and I have used it ever since. Recently, it occurred to me that worry is much the same. Both are like smoke detectors, warning us of a potential problem or threat. When the guilt alarm goes off, it says, “You screwed up! You screwed up! You screwed up!” When the worry alarm goes off, it says, “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong!” In each case, just as with a smoke detector, there are two possibilities: either it is a false alarm OR there is actually a problem.
When a smoke detector goes off, the first thing you do is look around to see what set it off. Maybe the battery is low. Maybe your dinner is making too much steam or smoke on the stove. Or maybe there is actually a fire. If is it a false alarm (i.e. no fire), you push the button to silence the alarm and move on with your day. If there is a fire, you either grab a fire extinguisher or call 911. You do something about the problem. What you don’t do is carry the blaring smoke detector around with you all day! That would obviously be pointless and stressful; and yet, that is essentially what many of us do with our guilt or worry.
A more effective approach would be to treat your guilt or worry like the smoke detector. When it goes off, the first thing you do is look around to see what set it off. In the case of guilt, you might ask, “What’s going on? Did I really screw up? Did I hurt someone in some way? Can I do anything about it?” In the case of worry, you might ask, “What’s going on? What am I worried about? Is the problem real? Is it certain or even likely? Do I have any control over it? Can I do anything about it?”
If you decide that the problem is real, the next thing you do is look for possible interventions. With guilt, you might apologize, make amends, or fix the situation in some way. With worry, you might take steps to minimize the possible dangers or negative outcomes. You heed the alarm and respond accordingly. That’s what alarms are for. Once you’ve taken all reasonable steps to address the problem, the alarm should stop, because it no longer serves any purpose.
If, on the other hand, you decide that the guilt or worry is a false alarm, or if the alarm has not stopped after you’ve intervened, then you run into a small problem. Unlike smoke detectors, your guilt and worry do not have a reset button. You can’t just turn them off by getting a broom and whacking a little box on the ceiling. You also can’t simply leave the room, because unlike smoke detectors, you carry your guilt and worry around with you. The only way to escape is to turn off the alarm, and the only way to do that is to clear the air. Like waving a towel in front of a blaring smoke detector, you have to look at the situation, remind yourself why you believe it is a false alarm, and be patient. At first, it may seem like an impossible task, but there is a skill to it, and you can get better.
Ideally, we can learn to avoid false alarms by training our guilt and worry to be more discriminating. This means challenging any guilt or worry that fails to serve a useful purpose. We can also learn to minimize actual problems by refining or disciplining our behaviors. This might mean being more careful with our comments or judgments, treating people with greater respect or compassion, or avoiding unnecessary risks. If we learn to reduce both false alarms and actual problems, we unlock the potential for a life that minimizes guilt and worry. The alarms are still there to protect us in an emergency, but they do not go off unless absolutely necessary.
As a final note, I should point out that living a life with less guilt and worry may lead to the perception by others that you don’t care enough. Some people wear their guilt and worry like badges of honor, as a sign of just how much they care. However, this seems dangerous to me, because it links being a good and caring person with carrying around lots of guilt and worry. That reality may be fine and good for some people, but I don’t want it for myself. It puts suffering on a pedestal, and there’s enough suffering in the world already.
By Jeffrey Noethe, Ph.D., on May 16th, 2010
Given my interest in natural order and patterns (see Defining Li), it may come as no surprise that I am intrigued by the similarities between (1) the development of individual consciousness over a lifetime and (2) the evolution of human consciousness over many thousands of years. As we mature from infants to adults, our brains go through stages of development that parallel the evolution of our species from primitive to more sophisticated. This parallel offers a kind of symmetry between individual and species development, one that connects us intimately with our own history as human beings. Whether we realize it or not, on an individual level, we each experience a highly-compressed version of human history, and we experience it through the development of our thoughts, feelings, and perceptions.
Consider the pre-verbal, selfish, and often aggressive nature of babies. Is it possible that infant consciousness mirrors that of early humans? Babies are more adorable than cavemen, but it is only their relative size and helplessness that allow them to be so. If babies had the size, strength, and mobility of adults, they would be absolutely terrifying when upset, much like Lennie from Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. Now, imagine an entire community of these infant-adults, and you get a glimpse of how brutal and chaotic early human existence might have been.
These parallels continue from infancy into childhood and adolescence. Even with the development of language, the underlying narcissism and brutality do not necessarily disappear. Children eventually learn to follow rules and care for others, but as we all know, children can still be cruel, and not only during infancy. Much the same is true for human cultures and civilizations. In either case, despite the maturation or evolution of our brain structures, the development of more sophisticated perspectives and values can come very late or not at all. All we have to do is watch the news to see countless examples of lingering selfishness, aggression, and cruelty… even among adults in “civilized” societies.
As we move through childhood and into adulthood, our brains develop greater complexity, and we are exposed to the lessons of family, culture, human history, and personal experience. Through these lessons, some of us begin to learn and practice more sophisticated behaviors, and we tend to seek out others who share our perspectives. These pockets of sophistication may be rare in grade school or even high school, but they become more common with age. In the adult world, there are all levels of sophistication representing all kinds of perspectives, but narcissism and brutality still exist.
Human evolution has also included pockets of sophistication for thousands of years, and overall, these pockets appear to have grown more prevalent over the centuries, culminating in our modern human world. Unfortunately, whether we are talking about individuals or the species as a whole, sophistication is neither universal nor inevitable, at least not yet, and pockets of cruelty and selfishness remain common. The development of consciousness is a rocky road, and humanity still has a long way to go.
In exploring this idea further, it may be useful to consider the example of high school. Within most communities of teenagers, selfishness and aggression remain common traits, and this creates a hostile environment dominated by various kinds of bullies and their followers. High school is a primitive world, but unlike early childhood, it does include noticeable and ever-expanding pockets of sophistication. Indeed, the brutality of this world may actually provide a catalyst for individual growth, especially among those who are not in power. Unfortunately, high school can also provide reinforcement for those who are able to dominate, potentially trapping these individuals in a violent and narcissistic existence.
One thing that stands in the way of growth is the tendency for people to be drawn toward the norm. This is much like the statistical concept of regression toward the mean. When there is a dominant majority representing a certain set of perspectives and values, others will tend to be drawn toward those values. They “regress” away from the periphery and toward the norm, as if drawn by gravity. It is hard to resist this gravitational pull and stand firm as an outlier, especially during high school, because teens typically lack stable personal identities. In many ways, finding that identity is what being a teen is all about. At a time of life when primitive traits probably represent the majority, sophistication is represented mostly in the smaller pockets, the outliers. In such an environment, it is not surprising that many individuals would be unwilling to venture away from the primitive majority, even if it is a source of suffering. But some do resist the pull and venture out, and over time, these individuals create centers of gravity of their own.
By the time any generation gets to adulthood, these small pockets of sophistication have grown and combined into a larger segment of the population. As the primitive majority loses members, its gravitational pull diminishes, and acceptance for primitive behaviors declines. There is still a tendency for regression toward the mean, but there are now multiple centers of gravity to attract the lost and isolated. Primitive groups still exist, but their dominant status slips away as they lose their majority. Some members of these primitive groups may eventually feel drawn to evolve themselves. Others may cling to their primitive culture, even as it shrinks into obscurity.
Naturally, all of these trends will depend on the larger cultural context, and in some cultures or societies, primitive traits may remain dominant even in adulthood. This is the nature of human evolution, as well as individual development. Some people push forward into new human potentials, creating new centers of gravity (i.e. more sophisticated behavioral norms), while others remain closer to our primitive origins.
At this point, we must be careful not to confuse technological progress with sophistication, lest we be deceived into a false sense of superiority. After all, technological advances do not necessarily lead to a reduction in selfishness or aggression, and many industrialized nations, including the United States, do not necessarily represent the highest state of human evolution. In fact, our tendencies toward individualism, competition, consumerism, and warfare suggest that we are nowhere near the pinnacle of human consciousness. We may have pockets of great sophistication, but as a whole, we still demonstrate strong tendencies toward primitive behaviors.
Despite all of our limitations, I still have faith that humanity is on an upward trajectory toward greater levels of sophistication, even if it sometimes happens slowly and inconsistently. Every time we reveal our darkest potentials, it seems that we also reveal our outrage. Hopefully, this means that lessons are being learned. Hopefully, our primitive behaviors are serving a purpose for our species as a whole. Hopefully, we will continue to embrace a shift away from aggression and narcissism and toward an existence that minimizes suffering for all.
By Jeffrey Noethe, Ph.D., on April 21st, 2010
I like the idea that there is a natural order or beauty within the apparent chaos of life and the world. We simply have to learn to see it. The Chinese word for this organic order is “li”, and it can be seen easily in the patterns of snowflakes, frost, waves, and sand dunes. Li, however, is more than just interesting patterns. Li is a universal phenomenon that exists all around us. It appears on the grand scale of spiral galaxies, on the miniscule scale of atoms, and across vastly different scales (e.g. the parallel structures of atoms and solar systems). It even appears in abstract realms such as relationships, cultures, cycles, and systems. Life itself may be the most amazing example. The patterns of li are everywhere.
Philosopher and author Alan Watts (1915-1973) described li this way:
Though the Tao is wu-tse (nonlaw), it has an order or pattern which can be recognized clearly but not defined by the book because it has too many dimensions and too many variables. This kind of order is the principle of li. . . . Li may therefore be understood as organic order, as distinct from mechanical or legal order, both of which go by the book. Li is the asymmetrical, nonrepetitive, and unregimented order which we find in the patterns of moving water, the forms of trees and clouds, of frost crystals on the window, or the scattering of pebbles on beach sand. . . . As soon as this beauty is pointed out it is immediately recognized, though we cannot say just why it appeals to us. When aestheticians and art critics try to explain it by showing works of art with Euclidean diagrams superimposed on them–supposedly to demonstrate elegance of proportion or rhythm–they simply make fools of themselves. Bubbles do not interest one merely because they congregate in hexagons or have measurable surface tensions. Geometrization always reduces natural form to something less than itself, to an oversimplification and rigidity which screens out the dancing curvaceousness of nature.
-Alan Watts, Tao: The Watercourse Way, 1975, pp. 45-46
Because it is a naturally occurring phenomenon, li does not require our intervention or control. Nature dances, and li is the beauty of that dance. As natural beings, humans have an innate ability to experience li, but we must first learn to be present and open to reality. I’m not talking about the over-processed reality in our heads, but rather the raw reality as it comes to us through our senses. So often, our rational minds get in the way, and so we must learn to turn down the volume on our thoughts. Only then will li become fully apparent.
Animals don’t need help with this, because they are not burdened with our reasoning abilities. As a result, they exist wholly within the patterns of li. Their relationships, interactions, and patterns of behavior are li. Human behavior gets hung up on mental constructs like expectations and control, and we lose contact with natural order. Through our thoughts and efforts, we actually destroy li. Imagine trying to intervene as a snowflake is forming, trying to make it turn out a certain way, and you will get an idea of the danger and futility of trying too hard. Li doesn’t need us to make it happen. In fact, it often can’t tolerate our efforts. It just needs us to participate in life and allow it to happen.
If li still seems difficult to grasp, consider a few more examples, and maybe it will become more clear. Li is the smoke of a candle spiraling and folding in on itself. Li is dust in a sunbeam. Li is clear water rippling in the wind on a sunny day. Li is sparkles of sunlight dancing across the surface of a body of water. Li is the northern lights, sunrises and sunsets, and the starry sky. Li is waterfalls, rapids, leaves on trees, and mountain ranges. Li is storms. Li is all weather. Li is the patterns within and across lifespans. Li is the chemistry between two people. Li is the cycle of life and death. Li is ecosystems. Li is solar systems. Li is also “the zone” experienced by athletes. Li is anytime we feel truly connected and caught up in the flow of life.
I will not speculate about how or why li occurs, because I do not know with any certainty the answers to those questions. My goal is simply to point out that li does occur, that it does so with great abundance, and that it is always available to us… as long as we don’t get in the way.
By Jeffrey Noethe, Ph.D., on April 6th, 2010
This three-part series uses mathematics, specifically algebra, as a metaphor for exploring and illustrating the relationships between the aspects of human experience that relate to suffering. In Part 2, we consolidated our previous equations into a single formula, which I dubbed the Unified Theory of Human Suffering:
(14) Suffering = (Feeling x Control / Trust) + (Stress / Coping)
This formula says that, if we hold feelings as a constant, suffering goes up with increases in control and stress, but it goes down with increases in trust and coping. Because feeling, control, and stress are always present in our lives (i.e. greater than zero), suffering can only approach zero when trust is very high compared to control and coping is very high compared to stress. We concluded that all four variable are important for managing suffering, but no matter how much we try to reduce control and stress, a lack of trust or coping will always make suffering skyrocket.
In my work, I also sometimes talk about suffering being caused by expectations. On the surface, this idea doesn’t seem to fit our formula, but if we think about expectations as beliefs or feelings about how things will be or should be, then perhaps we can simply substitute expectation for feeling:
(19) Suffering = (Expectation x Control / Trust) + (Stress / Coping)
This substitution suggests that expectations, like feelings, are not the real problem. In fact, expectations are probably a constant in life, just like feelings. We all have them. Expectations only contribute to significant suffering when they are combined with high control (i.e. clinging) and low trust. In the end, our Unified Theory of Human Suffering still holds true. Here it is one more time:
(14) Suffering = (Feeling x Control / Trust) + (Stress / Coping)
Now that we have a mathematical model for suffering, let’s consider a few examples…
If I kicked you in the shin, you would experience pain (i.e. a negative physical Feeling), which is only natural. However, your suffering could be greatly amplified by your resistance to the feeling (i.e. Control), by you clinging to the expectation that I shouldn’t have done it (i.e. Feeling x Control), or by your worry that I may have broken your tibia (i.e. Stress). Similarly, your suffering could be alleviated by accepting the pain, letting go of expectations, believing that my intentions were not malicious (i.e. Trust), and managing your worry effectively (i.e. Coping).
Let’s consider another example in which you are working with a team on a group project. If you don’t trust your group, you might cope by trying to control the direction of the project or the contributions of the other members. Through all this extra effort, you suffer. Over time, the other members may begin to resent your control or take advantage of you by doing less. Through their negativity or passivity, you suffer. If you resist the urge to control, you may still suffer due to lack of trust or insufficient coping mechanisms. Even if you do trust your group, they may fail to meet your expectations. To the extent that you cling to those expectations, and to the extent that you fail to trust that things will still work out, you suffer. And even if you adjust your expectations and renew your trust, there is always the potential for further disappointments and suffering.
With all these different paths to suffering, what can you do? You can’t avoid having feelings and expectations. That’s not possible. If the group project is not optional, then you also can’t avoid the stress. What you can do is utilize good coping skills, resist the urge to control, adjust to the ever-changing reality before you, and trust that things will work out somehow… even if you can’t see it.
One of my favorite quotes captures this idea beautifully, and I will end this long discourse with these timeless words:
We stand on a mountain pass in the midst of whirling snow and blinding mist, through which we get glimpses now and then of paths which may be deceptive. If we stand still we shall be frozen to death. If we take the wrong road we shall be dashed to pieces. We do not certainly know whether there is any right one. What must we do? Be strong and of a good courage. Act for the best, hope for the best, and take what comes… If death ends all, we cannot meet death better.
-Fitz James Stephen, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, 1874
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