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 September 13th, 2010
During the intake process with a new client, I always ask about five areas of self-care: nutrition, sleep, exercise, pleasurable activities, and supports. Self-care provides a foundation for physical and mental health, and I believe that everything we do in therapy is built upon this foundation. With a more solid foundation, progress comes easier and outcomes are more sustainable. The same is true for everything we do in life, which is why I place such great value on self-care.
Think of self-care as a table with five legs, one for each area. If all five legs are strong, then you can use the table for almost anything. You can set heavy boxes on it. You can build a house of cards on it. You can even stand on it. Of course, nobody’s table is perfectly solid all the time, because we all face limits (time, money, motivation, sickness, etc.) that make self-care difficult. Fortunately, even with a couple wobbly legs, your table can still do its job. However, there are limits.
The less solid your table becomes (i.e. the more areas of self-care that are weak), the greater the chance that it will become unstable at a critical moment. Imagine trying to build a house of cards on a table with shaky legs. Imagine the frustration of having the cards fall, not because of your unsteady hands, but because of your wobbly table. Now, imagine your frustration if that house of cards was actually a new relationship or a new career. If only you had taken the time to tighten up the legs of your table, perhaps your efforts would have been rewarded! This is why making time for self-care is so critical. Any improvement might make the difference between the cards standing and falling.
Let’s take a moment to look more closely at each leg of the table:
- Nutrition – This leg includes anything that you take into your body: food, beverages, vitamins, supplements, medicine, alcohol, drugs, and so forth. All of these have a direct impact on body functioning and brain chemistry. Without the proper building blocks, the body and mind can’t maintain themselves effectively; and with excessive toxins, functioning can be impaired or damaged.
- Sleep – This leg is about the amount, quality, and consistency of sleep. Unfortunately, sleep is not always under our control, as with insomnia or nightmares. Like the canary in the coal mine, sleep issues can serve as an early warning sign for other problems (e.g. anxiety or depression). Also, sleep patterns are often hard to correct once they get disrupted, so it is important to catch problems early.
- Exercise – This leg is about physical activity, which impacts not only your physical fitness, but also your mental health. Exercise is one of the best ways to manage the physical symptoms of stress and anxiety. Ironically, exercise is also typically one of the first activities to be dropped during times of stress!
- Pleasurable Activities – This leg includes activities that are fun and/or meaningful to you in some way. They can be social or solitary, and they can take almost any form (interests, hobbies, escapes, passions, creative outlets, connections to nature, etc.). They can also overlap with the activities of the other four legs. I think of pleasurable activities as being the most direct source of stress reduction, because they have such a profound impact on quality of life.
- Supports – This last leg is about connections with individuals, groups, or communities. Human beings (introverts and extroverts alike) generally don’t function very well in prolonged isolation, and good supports provide the critical bonds that keep us grounded and balanced. However, in order to qualify as a good supports, we must actually use these people as supports! It is not enough to merely have people available to you.
After years of addressing self-care with clients, I have come to realize that all five areas have something to do with connectedness. Nutrition, sleep, and exercise involve connectedness with yourself (your health, your body, etc.), while supports involve connectedness with other people. Depending on the individual, pleasurable activities might involve connectedness with self, others, nature, or a sense of meaning, purpose, or spirituality. As each area of self-care is given more attention, connectedness deepens and health improves. Taken together, these areas of self-care seem to suggest that our foundation of health is really a foundation of connectedness… or interconnectedness. The longer I do this work, the more right that sounds.
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.
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