The Paradox of Stress

The timing of the universe is always impeccable. Yesterday, I arrived at the chapter in Shift!, my book project, on stress, and in anticipation of sharing what might be some controversial thoughts on the subject, I started to feel anxious, worried, and you guessed it: stressed out! How perfect. It always helps to be intimate with one’s subject matter.

a word we know all too well

I’m no stranger to stress. I don’t, in fact, know anyone who is not closely acquainted with the painful, intense feelings of discomfort that we associate with the symptoms: pressure, usually in the head and the neck; muscle constriction in the chest making our breaths tighter, shallow; heaviness, worry, confused thinking–a sense of being overwhelmed. We’ve all been there. There are a thousand different variations of how stress shows up to disrupt our mental, emotional and physical equilibrium.

What was stressing me out, as I thought about what I wanted to write about this ubiquitous form of suffering that seems to inordinately plague our culture, is what a paradox stress is. My current feelings of stress notwithstanding, I’ve got to say it: stress is good. We need stress. What?

Let me try to explain my point with an illustration. Whenever I feel particularly stressed, stuck, or overwhelmed, I like to take a long bike ride or go for a run. Aerobic exercise, as we all know, is one the best ways to de-stress. Research has shown that physical exercise releases endorphins into the physical system that appear to counter the negative build-up of stress hormones like cortisol.

Near my home in the Hudson Valley, there is a long, winding country road that is perfect for biking. It is curvy and generally free of automobiles, with lots of steep inclines and long dips for catching my breath. At the outset of each ride, I always face an immediate fork in the road, literally,—and a choice. On the left, the ride is mostly straight, flat and downhill. On the right, the ride is more episodic, with steep hills, sharp curves, and long drops.

De-stressor Deluxe

You would think that if my goal is to reduce stress, get in the flow, and feel free, I’d go left. But I never do. The fact is, I like the hills. I need them. Frankly, the ride to the left is too easy, too flat, almost tediously static. In a word, it’s boring.

The paradox of stress reduction is this: When I think about the most stress-relieving part of a bike ride, it is not those occasional downhill glides with the breeze flowing through my hair and no need to pedal or brake, but rather when I “hit the hill.” In those moments when I feel the tension heat up in my leg muscles, when I gaze upward and feel a rush of adrenaline in the face of the incline ahead, when I downshift (to lighten the stress!) and become excruciatingly present to the on-coming climb, those are the moments, when I feel the most focused, energized, and relaxed.

In my case, the stress created by shifting the focus out of my head and on to my body, on to the present moment and its uphill exertions, releases the stress in my mind/body: the worry, anxiety and, most of all, the FEAR that saps my energy and holds me stuck. Now I’m either a very odd duck, or it would appear that stress is not always the enemy that it is purported to be. In fact, it is the very stress—in this case, of physical exertion—that alleviates the real culprit: fear.

Unfortunately, stress has become one of those terms against which we carry a grudge. We are bombarded with ads for programs and workshops and CD’s all purporting to help us reduce stress, yet this may be one more example of where the symptom is NOT the dis-ease. The deeper truth is that we thrive on stress. Without it, we would whither away and die.

I’m reminded of two clients that I saw back to back recently, who for a period of time made me feel a bit like a ping-pong ball on the table of stress. Each of them came to me complaining of being “stressed-out.” On one side, I had Mary, whose life appeared to be over-flowing with stress and on the other, I had Hal, who complained about feeling stressed, but whose life, it appeared to me, seemed to be sorely lacking in it. He, like me on those bike straightaways, seemed bored.

Viewed from the outside looking in, Mary’s life is a picture post card of stress: She has a high-paying job as a director of human resources for a major bank, which requires of her endless hours of work including nights and weekends. She has three strenuously active children of various ages ranging from eight to fifteen, who have an endless litany of projects and programs and enough activities to make anyone’s head spin.

On top of all this stress-inducing drama, she has a house husband, who cooks, runs errands, and generally maintains the happy home, but who rarely participates in parenting or relating to Mary much beyond a shared video game and endless logistical emails.

Techno-intimacy?

And so…Mary comes to me each week complaining of being overwhelmed by stress—pressures at work, tension at home, endless to-do lists, and no time for herself. It is a common complaint for people who are trying to balance the endless demands of career and family life circa 2009.

At the other end of the stress spectrum, we have Hal. A sixty-three year old retired architect, Hal lives, simply and comfortably, on a small pension that he built up over his thirty-year career. Having never married or had children, his life appears, again from the outside looking in, as a picture perfect postcard of freedom. Hal is able to do what he wants when he wants. He has close friends, and although he sometimes desires a closer companion in his life and misses the intimacy of a romantic relationship, he didn’t come to me pining away for a girlfriend. His complaint, when he did arrive on my doorstep, was that he was stressed about his own lack of “to-do” list, which was showing up as a general malaise, a lack of enthusiasm and passion for life.

At the outset, I couldn’t help but think, as these two stressed-out clients passed each other in the hallway, that if they could just take each others place for a few months, or maybe a few years, all would be well. Mary could sure use a little more freedom, and Hall could benefit from a bit more activity. They appear, at least initially, as opposites, to be sure.

But that’s the problem with stress: if you don’t dive below the surface symptom, you can all too easily mistake the forest for the trees. It turns out that Hal and Mary are not really opposites at all, but surprisingly similar, and that “stress” is not really the problem, for either of them.

Mary, when pressed to explore her story of woe, turns out to thrive on being busy: she is passionate about her job, loves taking care of her kids and doesn’t, deep down, really mind running around supporting their high energy lives. What she really feels is fear: fear that she is losing connection with her husband; fear that he and she are becoming increasingly isolated from each other; fear that she might end up alone.

Hal, likewise, is actually quite content with many elements of his life. He thrives on his new found sense of freedom in retirement, and enjoys having the flexibility to putter about with multiple hobbies that he has put off for years. Stress is not his real complaint, loneliness is. He, like Mary, fears isolation, separation, and a lack of intimacy with a significant other.

Funny, rather than switch places with each other, I might do them both more good if I were to introduce them (although don’t worry, I won’t). They are, like many of us, caught up in the story called “stressed,” but at a deeper level, where the rubber of truth hits the road of the heart, their core issue is fear.

And so, the crux of the problem with stress, is that far too often it is NOT the problem. In some cases, a bit more stress may even be the solution. Both Mary and Hal, in facing their fears, actually needed to turn up the stress quotient: They both needed to move through their fear of isolation by “being more related”—taking on the added “stress” of engaging with potentially scary “others”–husbands and girlfriends!

Reaching beyond fear...to connection

At then end of the day, stress is a necessary component in building a building, a bridge or a life. As any structural engineer will tell you: stress is a key ingredient in the recipe for success. Without the right level of tension, achieved through a balance of weight, distance and pressure bearing down on the different elements of the structure, the bridge will fall.

We humans, as delicate systems comprised of interrelated emotional, physical and mental “elements” are in many ways, no different. The difference is that unlike a suspension bridge, whose foundation, set in concrete, remains fixed (although in truth it too is always moving, in sync with the movement of the earth), the human system is fluid, movable, and in a constantly dynamic relationship with its environment. The loop of tension that holds up a bridge is closed; ours is open-ended. We too, require stress to stay afloat, but too often we mistake stress for its insidious sister: fear.

The beauty of stress

Our challenge is not to banish stress from the system, but to dive below the symptom and uncover, share and release our fear. Only then may we begin to navigate that delicate sense of balance that keeps us upright and moving forward, flexible and adapting to the winds of change.

Dr J

The Trouble with Happiness: Part Three–Money, Meaning and the Madness of “More”

Post the onslaught of Michael Jackson media madness, I want to get back to the topic, which was very much on my mind last week…and hasn’t left: happiness.

Today’s New York Times kicks off with another recession winner: California is about to “default.” I’m not sure exactly what this means, although it is safe to say that it is seriously gloomy news, as the economic hurricane of 2008-2009 continues to plow down industries–real estate, banking, insurance, automobiles (all of which are heavily concentrated in California) like match sticks in a blaze. I guess one could surmise that, with its credit rating downgraded, and its deficit ballooning, the entire state is about to be “foreclosed”.

Of course, the situation is no laughing matter, and we’re not exactly sitting pretty here in my home state of New York. The pain has managed to spread, far and wide, touching just about everyone, in the pocket book–and head, and heart.

When I reflect on what’s happening with the economy on a psychological/cultural level, somehow I always end up harping once again on our addiction to material, consumable, instant, microwave-safe, happiness…and all the trouble it gets us into. It just seems to me that the deeper issue we face, as a nation and a culture, is a crisis of identity: We’ve lost sight of who we are, and what REALLY matters.

Perhaps the trouble I have with the Americanized version of “happiness,” isn’t so much with our desire to be “happy” but with the path we’ve chosen to get there: we’ve just drunk way too deeply on the Kool-Aid of consumption. Clamoring always for the almighty “more,” is a form of madness—a malaise of meaning that is more symptomatic of clinical manic depression than of the happiness it is designed to create. Herewith is the real question: Why do we feel so empty that we cram ourselves endlessly with stuff?

Our vehicle of choice?

Isn’t enough, well, enough? After all, sated is state of being, not having.

I recently watched a documentary on the housing crisis, in which a family of four from Mexico had moved to Southern California in pursuit of the American Dream. After struggling mightily for a number of years, the husband had achieved a modicum of success: legal status, a white collar job in office tower, a comfortable apartment in which each of his kids had their own bedroom–and the requisite computers, televisions, Ipods, even an SUV. But when the opportunity came up for him to get a low interest loan on a huge house, a big lawn and a long commute, he grabbed at the chance.

Then, when he lost his job in the downturn, this hard-working immigrant was forced to give up his home, declare bankruptcy and in effect, start back at the beginning. I couldn’t help but wonder, having come so far from the hardscrabble poverty he had grown up in south-of-the-border, why would he risk everything just for MORE house?

More happiness? Really?

Was it inevitable that we’d get so far off track? I mean, if you think about it, we’ve been wise to the shadow of greed, and the addiction to material wealth, for a long, long time. Erich Fromm, that psychological provocateur, warned us rather poignantly in his invaluable tome, “The Sane Society” way back in 1955:

“Originally, the idea of consuming more was meant to give man a happier, more satisfied life. Consumption was a means to an end—that of happiness. It now has become an aim in itself. Man has become alienated from the work he does, the things and pleasures he consumes, and from the social forces which under gird our society.”

So where do we go from here? As Carl Jung might say, the shadow side of our addiction to happiness—at least in material form—has reared its ugly head in the form of a deep recession (or collective depression?). But Jung was also an optimist, and noted that breakdown always precedes breakthrough. As he might put it, with the ego—that “material me”—comatose and drunk on debt, might the soul come alive?

I recently read an article in the NY Times about the only city in America that might just toss off the recession-syndrome rather lightly, having been through more than its fair share of depressions, tropical and economic. Yet, New Orleans just keeps on being happy:

In one nationwide Gallup survey, New Orleanians in number far greater than other Americans reported themselves “extremely satisfied” with their lives, despite some of the worst violence, poverty, and mismanagement in the country. While the rest of us Americans scurry about with a Blackberry in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other in a feverish attempt to pack more achievement into every minute, it’s the New Orleans way to build one’s day around friends, family, music, cooking, processions and art.” Dan Baum for the NY Times, June 18, 2009

What might we learn from a city that knows a thing or two about being under water?

There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting “more,” but it is the quality—not the quantity—of the more that really matters. Perhaps, shaken out of our fairy-tale slumber turned nightmare (we are like the “Three Little Bears” of the brothers Grimm—overfed, undernourished), we might choose to live, once again, more like our Cajun brothers and sisters,

soul food

with more relatedness, more compassion, more depth, more meaning…more soul!

Bon beignets!

Dr J

Michael Jackson: A Real Life “Benjamin Button”

The past is never ended; it isn’t even past. William Faulkner

Like everyone else across the planet, I’ve been shocked and moved and deeply saddened to hear about the death of Michael Jackson. But not surprised.

In Memoriam

I remember the day, just a few years ago, when the world watched as the forty-something year old Michael walked into an LA court room, wearing pajamas, carrying a cane, and being assisted by his “handlers.” He didn’t look well. He looked strange: both extremely old and frail…and simultaneously extremely young, fragile, child-like.

I was never a huge fan of his music, although many of his early ballads like “Ben” and later the famous “We are the World” are impossible not to love. Of course, he was extremely talented and his music, like that of the Beatles and Elvis, will likely become even more famous over time.

For these first days and weeks after his death, I’m sure that the blogosphere will be overwhelmed with tributes and commentary on his talent, his celebrity, his bizarre lifestyle…all of it. I’m not sure that I want to add to the hype or do a whole lot more here than express condolences to his family and especially his children.

On the other hand, his sad and untimely death at the age of fifty, and the description coming from his lawyers and so-called “friends” of his recent physical and emotional state—frail, fragile, isolated, lonely, “wracked with pain,” and very likely pain-killers—couldn’t help but remind me of the final minutes of a recent Hollywood blockbuster, “Benjamin Button.”

Just this spring, this strange and unusual film, starring Brad Pitt as a man who is born “old” and then spends his entire life becoming young again–emotionally and physically–was lauded by critics and nominated for innumerable Oscars, including Best Picture. Even more odd is the timing: the film is so much like the Michael Jackson story that it begs to be explored.

At the end of the film, the main character has become a small child, and ultimately dies a very sad and lonely death. Frail, unkempt, isolated, and terrified, he dies…and, in essence, returns to the womb. It is a strange and sad tale, this life lived backwards. For me, it was fascinating, if at times excruciating, to watch. I found myself cringing with sadness and horror at moments, especially near the end, and now I can’t help but notice that seeing Michael in recent years–with his surgically sallow and striated face, also made me cringe.

Coincidence? Perhaps. But the connection feels more like a synchronicity–and in that sense an opportunity: there is a lesson here for those of us who may not have lived a fairy-tale, “happy” childhood—a reminder of a deep truth: the past is always present.

...I remember it as a magical time...really?

The past is a story that needs to be told, released, and excised in order for us to, as the cliche would say, “grow up.” Otherwise, it can live in us like a parasite, doing an ‘inside job’ of destruction and devastation—de-railing a life.

Michael Jackson was the poster boy of a child-star—a world-wide phenomenon as a young boy—a man-child, who was taken out of school, forced to work long hours in a recording studio (he was all of six years old—an age not even covered by child labor laws!) and deprived of anything that might be considered remotely a “normal childhood.” In disturbingly “Benjamin Button”-style, his early TV interviews demonstrate a wistfulness, a wisdom and maturity–”my music is always a reflection of my heart” (he was ten!)–that belied his lost youth.

Later, as the middle-aged superstar exhibited more adolescent and then clearly childish behavior—befriending chimps and young kids, building himself a fantasy Disneyland style kiddie playground, re-sculpting his face surgically in order, one might surmise, to wipe out any sign of aging—it became painfully obvious that he was caught up in a desperate search for the childhood that he never had. Surely, it was a naive, perhaps pathological attempt to heal the pain. Ultimately, rather than choose therapy, he chose the more common route that we have come to see as “normal”: prescription drugs and denial—an ultimately lethal combination.

All of this might just be fodder for the tabloids, if it weren’t an extreme version of what I see every day in my practice: adults, over forty, fifty, even approaching old age, who are in emotional and physical pain that is directly connected to unresolved issues from decades before. Far too often, the past, with its hurts, traumas and wounds, just seems to finally catch up with us.

Of course, traditional psychotherapy is expensive and out of vogue; everyone now wants to be “coached” or spiritually enhanced– to sit in meditation and “get present.” Spending time re-visiting childhood wounds is considered “self-indulgent” — a waste of time.

Yet, watching from the sidelines, the self-destructive demise of a man who lived daily with the ever-present pain of his shrouded history…I can’t help but wonder: is it that easy to just brush away the past?

The truth is that our history lives in us at a cellular level–the hurt, the abandonment, the loss, the shame–these things are not, as much as the pharma companies would have us believe, always genetic. Though the pain may be masked by drugs, it is not healed by them.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not advocating for primal scream therapy or years on the couch regurgitating the victim, or wallowing in self-pity. Yuck. Yet, there is another truth about the past that is equal to its power and presence: it is just a story. We are all, ultimately, just a mix and match composite of the stories we choose to hold on to, and when a story of sorrow clings to us–and us to it–as the tragic figure Michael morphed into demonstrates–it can lead to our undoing.

Jackson’s great gifts as a musician and artist will stand up to the test of time, of that I have no doubt. But his death and final years of pain can also offer us an additional gift — a lesson in the importance of not getting so caught up in the past that we are destroyed by it. As Carl Jung poignantly reminds us: “What we fail to bring into the light of consciousness, appears in our lives as fate.”

Michael, we will miss you.

Dr J

The Trouble With Happiness: Part Two–The Tyranny of “Should”

I have a “fantasy quiz” for you to help jump start this gray, rainy day: If you could “delete” any word, any single word from the English language, because you thought it would make life ever so much more enjoyable, what would it be?

Well…there are the obvious choices: hate, rage, anger, violence. I’m with you. Perhaps you thought, given the themes of my recent blogs, “I know, he’s gonna want us to banish ‘happiness’ from our vocabulary.” Umm…perhaps I would consider this, but no, that’s not the word that I would ultimately choose. Here’s my choice for the bad ass term that life would be ever so much better without: “should“!

Happiness, as I discussed in my last blog, is a particularly elusive goal. Our cultural addiction to it and our life long dance with it—to my mind—can be a toxic combination. Yet, what really gets us in trouble is the double whammy of suffering that ensues when, driving along the bumpy–and far from linear–road to happiness, we pick up that extra passenger known as, “I SHOULD be happy.”

Should is a particularly egregious term, because so often when it appears, it is a signal, a flash point, for resistance to change–and resistance, playing its role in this toxic game, is almost always a tip-off for FEAR (ummm, perhaps that is the word I’d most want to get rid of…).

Let’s walk through a couple of examples, so you can see how happiness, difficult to experience even in the best of times, gets totally de-railed in the wake of “should”. My client Peter and his partner have been together for fourteen years. They have had their ups and downs–as all couples do–but recently they’ve been on the skids. It seems that Roger (the partner) tends to be harshly critical of Peter, at times bordering on verbal abuse, and his lack of support for Peter’s career growth (most notably in the wake of his own feelings of inadequacy), have led to Peter’s seriously considering ending the relationship.

The dance of intimacy should look like...?

Of course, as with all intimate partner dynamics, the situation is much more complex than this, and there is no right or wrong player: everyone in the dance of relationship plays their role, for good or ill.

However, what is particularly striking in the example is the stridency with which Peter reacts to the situation, jumping on his high horse (as we all sometimes do) and beating both himself and Peter to a pulp with “shoulds”: “I’m such a idiot. I should have left the relationship a long time ago.” He goes on, “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, I mean, I should be happy…I should get unconditional love and support from my partner. I should…” (well, you get the idea).

And here’s another example we can probably all relate to. A client I’ll call Mary sends me an email: “I’m not doing well. Can’t seem to drag myself out from under the covers today. I know that I should be up and motivated. I should be getting myself in gear. I shouldn’t be so lazy…” Again, you get the idea.

And finally, lest you think the “should-disease” only strikes my client list, let me share with you the thought process that I often cycled through during the first two to three weeks after my recent mother’s death. It went something like this: “I knew she was dying for a long time, so I should be able to handle it better. I should be able to take care of things and move forward more quickly. As the executor of the estate, I should just get to work on all the paperwork and stop procrastinating. As a psychologist, I know that I need to grieve, SO, I should be able to grieve at night and still work, happily (argh!!!) with my clients during the day…”

Ok, I’m sure you get the idea.

Here’s the rub: we are so addicted to the “idea” of being happy in this culture, that we beat ourselves up whenever life appears other than aligned with this lofty–and quite often–unattainable goal. In all three examples above, “should” is a euphemism, a stand-in, for “something is wrong” with my life. I don’t accept life AS IT IS…and either it (life) or I (me) needs to change.

What’s so insidious about “should” is that it gets us coming and going. It is equally capable of projecting our dissatisfaction with the status quo on the outside world, making it wrong, or tearing up the world inside head, heart and soul–and making me/us wrong. Either way, “should” is a killjoy.

Should: the sure way to short circuit happiness

In the case of Peter and Roger, Peter’s “should” is mostly a complaint about Roger: If only Roger were different then Peter might be happy. Yet, he also makes it about himself as well, declaring himself an “idiot” for not choosing a “better” partner or for being unable to “make” Roger change. In the other cases, with me and Mary, the de-railing troublemaker on the road to happiness is solely generated from the inside out. We play out something along these lines: “If only (another variation on the “should game”) I were different, better, more motivated–something—then I would be happy.

So what is the antidote to the twisted logic of “should”?

As I think about how to support Peter, Mary or myself, when in the throes of the “should disease,” I try look underneath—to see below the surface chatter of the mind—and observe and connect with the emotional pain that underpins “should.” In its many internal and external guises, “should” is usually a sign of resistance to WHAT IS….and resistance, at its core, is almost always FEAR.

Deep down in our emotional core—often hiding out in the pit of our stomachs, our attachment to the goal of happiness generates FEAR. Can you see the connection?

Swimming in fear-infested waters?

Take a moment and think about what the deeper voice–the one bubbling up from the depths, might be saying to Peter, or to Mary…or to me (when in the throes of “should”):

“I am afraid to let go of my partner. I am afraid to change. I am afraid that he doesn’t love me.”

“I am afraid to get up in the morning. I am afraid that my life will be a failure. I am afraid that my life IS a failure.”

“I am afraid that I won’t ever stop grieving. I am afraid that I am truly depressed and won’t ever be able to help people…ever again.”

At the end of the day, if I could return to my fantasy word banishment quiz, I’d like to change the rules. I’d KEEP both words—happiness and should—but banish them from ever being used in the same sentence. That should help. LOL.

Byron Katie, in her powerful book, “Loving What Is” has the right idea: the source of our unhappiness can be found in our attachment to having things look OTHER than the way they really are. We just need to learn to step back, breathe—let go of “shoulds”—and ACCEPT life — and as Katie might say, “love life just as it is” and the shark-infested waters of fear will recede.

Life is not a straight line progressing upward towards a peak point called “happy.” It is at best an endless (although in this form it DOES end!) series of cycles which — like the seasons — guarantee us nothing more than that they will CHANGE.

Happiness, when sought after with the fear-based demand of should, is a profoundly frustrating paradox, very often providing us the exact opposite of what we are looking for. On the other hand, there is good news: there is no reason why we can’t be “happy” a great deal of the time, but — and this is a big BUT — we need to embrace what is right in front of us at any given moment: light and dark, sun and clouds, grief and joy, all of it.

The only route to take...

The tyrannical “should” is truly an emperor with no clothes: we just need to strip him/her naked, take a deep breath…and sink, or perhaps dive (?), head first… into the mud of WHAT IS!

Playing in the mud of life...now that's happy!

Dr J

The Trouble with Happiness: Part One–The Asymptote of Joy

I’m going to have fun with these next few posts. I’ve been thinking a lot about “happiness” these the past few weeks–especially as I have been “enjoying” (if I may call it that) being unhappy and hanging out “under the weather” and under the radar for a while. As Barbra Streisand famously remarked once,”I like being unhappy, it gives me time to think.” Go Babs!

Is there a pathway to happiness?

It’s also always fun to find a way to use a new word, or should I say, an old Greek word, in this case “asymptote” (asumptotos), one that I loved tossing around the dinner table when I was thirteen, but haven’t had occasion to use much since.

On the other hand, I also feel a little like Jim Cramer (CNBC’s “Mad Money” host). He’s the guy who starts off his stock-picking TV show most days by noting that his opinions are likely to get him kicked off the “invite” list of the best parties on Wall Street. As I think about getting back on my soap box, I’m ever so aware that my thoughts on one of the most over-used words in the English language–”happiness”–are likely to get me kicked out of the “self-help” guru club…and fast.

Ah well, as Woody Allen would say, I never would want to belong to a club that would have me as a member. So what the hell.

Here, in a nutshell, is my beef with happiness: it may cause unhappiness. Yup, straight up folks: I think sometimes happiness can be toxic to your health. Our cultural obsession with all things “happy” may actually be one of the major sources of unhappiness in the land.

Ok, Dr J…where are you going with this one? Well, let’s start at the beginning: with a definition. Easier said than done. You see, one of the immediate problems we run into with anything and everything related to “happiness” is just how elusive the idea really is. And if you doubt me on this, just try looking it up in the dictionary!

Were it only this simple...

Happiness, according to Webster’s New Collegiate is, “a state of well-being and contentment; a pleasurable satisfaction (what?); good fortune, prosperity, felicity, and aptness” (aptness? LOL). The great thing about dictionaries is that they are designed to make you go from one word to another in an endless loop: clever design!).

So do these definitions of happiness make you happy? Are they apt? Ummmm. Let’s go one further, shall we? And so, we turn to the American Heritage Dictionary, New College Edition, only to find that, whoa, the word “happiness” is not even in the dictionary, except as a subset of the word “happy.” Happiness, it seems does NOT, at least in the collegiate ranks, stand on its own two feet.

Now here again, though, the definition of “happy” (which it seems is an adjective on its way to being “happiness”) conjures meanings such as “prosperity, good fortune, satisfaction, and in this unique variation: “characterized by luck.” I like that one. Millions of self-help books sold…like lottery tickets, all based around a concept “characterized”…by luck? Is there something fishy here?

I recently read one of the many new self-help books that are hitting the cyber-shelves, tackling anew if not afresh, that age-old quest for, you guessed it, happiness. This one is called, “Happy for No Reason” by Marci Shimoff, who is not a psychologist as far as I can tell, but one of the Jack Canfield/Mark Victor Hansen (“Chicken Soup for the Soul” guys) writer-gang , who churn out best-sellers like Gallo produces cheap wine—in large quantities.

In the book, Marci does a great job of encapsulating the bulk of what has become standard fare in the personal growth domain: the power of intention, the importance of health and nutrition, the value of meditation and learning the ways of Eastern philosophy and “centering” techniques, and so on.

I have utilized many of Marci’s suggestions, incorporated them into my workshops—especially yoga and meditation—and written about the value of learning how to live in the present—and release the past. As a big fan of Deepak Chopra and holding a spiritual perspective on life’s ups and downs, I’m not anti-happiness in general.

Yet, when I think about the emphasis on “being happy” that seems to permeate our culture these days–with happiness projects, books like Marci’s (and there are scores of them), even “happiness clubs”, etc. springing up all over the place, I can’t help but wonder if we are ultimately doing ourselves a major disservice here.

Consider an analogy. There has been substantial research done that shows that as our culture becomes more and more obsessed with physical appearance and vaults “thin” (all right, downright skinny if you’re a woman) and “fit” into iconic territory, incidences of poor self-esteem, low self worth, even depression—associated with physical appearance in young people in particular—have exploded.

Shouldn't she lose a few pounds...?

It seems that as the book shelves, magazine racks, and now internet sites get clogged with pictures of pretty boys (think: Jonas Brothers, Brad Pitt), and elegant stick figure females (think: Angelina), that the IMPORTANCE we ascribe to beauty and a slim physique actually creates suffering, for one very obvious reason: most of us never measure up.

I submit that the same dynamic holds sway in the kingdom of happiness. Clamoring after happiness, at least obsessively, is surely a set up for failure. In a world where the real process of living is more cyclical and replete with constant shifts and upheaval, anchoring ourselves in “happy-land” is easier said than done.

The Asymptote of Joy. An asymptote is a mathematical term for a line that curves towards zero–moving continuously towards another straight line, yet curving in such a way that it flows infinitely towards the crossing point…but never gets there.

Check out line B: its a beauty

Joy, satisfaction, contentment, and all those pleasant dictionary terms that deign to evoke happiness, seem to me to be basically asymptotic: they move in the right direction–towards the end game of “being happy,” but they never quite arrive, or if they do, they don’t stick around for long.

Life just doesn’t seem designed for endless contentment (as people who, when on holiday, decide to up and move to the Caribbean often discover): most of us rarely settle into happiness for long periods of time. We get a glimpse of joy–have a peak experience (and mind you, I’m a big fan of joyful moments!) and a blissful sunny day, yet, clouds, storms—”rainy days and Mondays”—tend to break up the monotony fairly frequently. And, if you stop and think about it, aren’t you glad they do?

My concern is with the devil who hides below the surface. I mean, on balance, happiness APPEARS to be a laudable goal—who wouldn’t want to be happy, right?—but is it possible that its very unattainability may wind up creating and reinforcing its opposite?

I’d like to see the pendulum of self help themes swing back towards a more grounded, spiritually balanced view of life: away from happiness, as such, and over towards something equally elusive perhaps, but ultimately more enriching and enlivening: Meaning. Depth. Being.

At the end of the day, the self-help experts who trek along parallel tracks through the Eastern and Western landscapes are playing a treacherous and potentially contradictory game. Eastern philosophy, with its emphasis upon enlightenment —detachment, emptiness, acceptance of the transience of life — has never really been all that interested in happiness.

Eckhart Tolle’s work, which focuses us on how to step out of our conscious habits of mind, our story, and re-member that we exist in an unfathomable ocean of consciousness–an empty place where there is no happiness or unhappiness, but only NOW–would likely list “trying to be happy” as one more Western cultural addiction.

Freud–and Jung—both wrote extensively about what they considered to be our Western (and for them both, a particularly American neurosis) attachment to the notion of happiness. Both considered that particularly idealized form of American optimism, and its fondness for happiness, a form of denial of life’s true stripes, even a repression of the deep complexity of life (e.g. for Freud: the aggressive death instinct; for Jung: the Shadow). Is it any wonder that there is no exact translation of the word “happiness” in German?

That said, I don’t want to follow the Euro-path towards nihilism or abject pessimism. I’m not against happiness per se; it’s just that, at the end of the day, I’m not convinced that all this commercial focus on happiness is healthy. Life-shifting is about fostering contentment–at times–but it is so much more.

Hanging our hopes on “happiness” is like capturing a Monarch butterfly in your hands: you might get lucky and get one, if you try really hard, but then what?

Do you really want to grab on to this?

You can’t really enjoy its beauty once its crushed up in your fist. Hold on to it longer than a few seconds, and it will surely die…and you will be anything but happy: you will be sad, sorry…and most likely feel quite guilty.

For me, helping people to “shift their lives into high gear” is about helping us all to be more IN our lives, less fearful and attached to transient highs and lows. My intention is that we (and me too!) become more awake and adept at moving through the inevitable cycles of life’s journey; that we become less attached to “finding happiness” — or having big houses and fancy cars…and lots of debt!–and more focused on relishing the depth of meaning, feeling and connection that is available within each moment.

Of course, the trouble is, we just might end up feeling happy. Darn!

Namaste,

Dr J

The Sun Will Come Out….

…And so it has, literally and figuratively. I’m back. Early this morning (ok, 9am. Early for me!) while sitting on my flower be-decked roof deck on the 20th floor of the classic NY high rise that I call “home” (part time), it dawned on me that for the first time in many weeks, I was really feeling good again. Like myself.

Yeah!

I stretched a bit, sipped my Starbucks, reveled in the tasty 100% full fat muffin that I had splurged on…and felt the sun seeping into my bones, reviving mind and body. It felt good.

Darn tooting. It feels GOOD to revive and return after “being away” psychologically and physically for what feels like a long time (I guess in “real” terms, it has been about two months). Of course, I didn’t really “go” anywhere, at least not far (with the exception of one delicious week of beach time). Mostly I just STOPPED the train called “productivity” and got off for a while.

As I’ve shared in this blog, I recently lost my mother to a long arduous battle with cancer. So, truth be told, I’ve been grieving. Sad. Down. Tired. Missing her. Angry at the IRS and the Bank and the SS administration for all the bureaucratic red tape they wrapped me and my siblings up in…in the wake of her death. It hasn’t been fun.

BUT…it has been life. Shifting. Doing its thing.

For the past few months, I’ve been living through that dark, difficult period of the “Life-Shifting” process I call “Release and Retreat:” stages of change where we experience a profound ending, a death of sorts–sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically.

This kind of upheaval is surely unavoidable– an inevitable part of life’s journey, yet we seem to struggle with it the most…and understand it the least. Yet, isn’t it really simple? Shifts happen. Things end.

Sometimes, the ways we’ve known the world to be—like having “moms” around, or having a full-time job, or a spouse who always agrees with us, or kids that are young and compliant—just up and vanish. It can be a shock to our system—finding ourselves in the midst of something that we like to think “happens to other people”…

I keep thinking of the old adage—”when you fall off the horse, just get right back on again”—and wonder how we, as a culture, came to buy this load of crap. Excuse my French. BUT, having known people who have fallen off a horse—and broken ribs or pretty badly mauled up their back—the LAST thing they should do at that moment is get back on that horse.

Excuse me? Get back on? Ummmm, right.

Thank God, we sometimes ignore stupid “folk wisdom.”

The reality is that loss is painful, and grieving takes time. In this context, I’m really frustrated with the overuse of the term “depression.” In the midst of the recession, with many people going through the unfortunate, but natural process of “de-selection” (e.g. losing their jobs), which happens all the time (just maybe not on the scale at which we are currently seeing it), we insist on calling ourselves “depressed” (and reaching for the pharmaceutical fix). BUT…the real emotion we are experiencing is loss/grief/sadness–all of the above. Here’s the rub, Mr. big Pharma: these emotions are NORMAL.

In Dr. Judith Orloff’s great new book, Emotional Freedom, she does a marvelous job of clarifying the distinction between grief (a normal emotional response to major loss–any loss), and depression, which is really a more insidious “shutting down” of one’s life force — usually as a defense mechanism against fear/terror of change, not a reaction to change.

A fundamental difference.

They can look…and feel…the same. Moments, days, even weeks can go by in the midst of grieving — after a job loss, or the loss of a loved one–when you just don’t feel like moving, everything feels’ “hard,” life feels heavy, boring, empty, and exhausting. Of course, whether you call the experience “depression” or not doesn’t change how you feel–but, as Judith points out and I want to reiterate, both as a psychologist dealing with clients in this situation, and as someone who recently moved through the experience personally, the key difference is MOVEMENT.

We've all been there...

Grief eventually lifts. Depression, if it is really a serious condition–bio-chemical or psychological (and it usually is both) tends to deepen. Grieving is natural. Grieving, even though painful, is ultimately restorative and needs to be honored. I’ve had to “take a break” from my practice, from writing, from responsibilities for others (as much as possible), in order to create space–a retreat space–for release, rest, and restoration.

We would likely hear a lot less about “depression” (and all the marketing that surrounds its supposed miracle cures) if we came to see that much of what we call depression is not depression at all, but the emotional response to loss–a reflection of our difficulty with change, letting go, and grieving.

I know, I know…big pharma won’t be happy to hear this. They’ve managed to convince us that we are almost all depressed, much of the time, AND that the only way through the gray mist of depression is with a bright purple pill (which, by the way, you take FOREVER). NOT.

Take two, or three, or four and call me in the morning...?

I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy it. I’m all for using medication when things get really serious…but having just gone through a period that probably would have rated “high” on most Pharma-fan doctor’s “depression meter”…and come out whole on the other end, sans drugs…I just want to raise awareness about this key distinction.

Grief and depression may look–and feel–the same, but they are NOT the same: if in the midst of this terrible recession, you start to feel down… ask yourself a few key questions before you turn yourself over to the drug counter:

—Did you recently go through a major loss (and YES a job counts!)?

—Have you or a loved one been through a life event in the past few months like job change, geographic move, illness or death in the family?

—Has your financial, living, or household situation experienced any kind of major change?

—Are people around you experiencing sudden change or loss?

If any of the above are true for you, very likely you are not so much depressed as grieving–for yourself or a loved one. Let it be.

Take time–as much as you can allow–to breathe, rest, get off the treadmill of doing–and be compassionate with yourself. Think selfish thoughts like:

“I need to be kind to ME,”

“I need to accept that these emotions are NORMAL.”

The antidote may be simple, if not obvious: you may need to shift out of the passing lane on the highway of life…and rest for a while.

He's got the idea...

Really. It’s that simple. In fact, when my clients REFUSE to take the much needed break in the wake of change–even if it is a mini-retreat of only a few days/weeks–very often they wind up getting SICK…and end up in bed anyway. Funny, the universe will sometimes throw us off that horse…no matter how much we try to hold on.

I say: jump!

Take this one right from the horse’s mouth: it is OK to take a break when life throws you a curve. You CAN turn off the phone; you can stay off of Facebook;

Pull the Switch!

you can, at least temporarily, ignore your email; your husband CAN find his way around the kitchen; the kids CAN live on pizza for a week…even the creditors can wait!

And of course, if the dead zone persists–for weeks or months–DO see your doctor. I’m no so much anti-drug, as pro-life (and not THAT kind of pro life!)…pro-life in the sense that change, loss, sadness and grieving are NORMAL. We don’t need to fight them, avoid them, or run from them. We need to embrace them…and lo and behold, they shift!

“The sun will come out, to-mor-row”…just like the song says!

Here comes the sun...(oops, wrong musical!)

Cheers!

DR J

Levitating Monkey Fillin in…

Hi there…Dr J is on a short break, recovering and rejuvenating after the precious time spent celebrating and sending off my mother…to those deep green pastures in the sky…

Hang in there...I'll be back soon!

I’ll be back soon…but in the meantime, check out my recent interview with Anjula Duggal at Levitating Monkey

I really love what Anjula and her colleagues are creating with their blog…and was honored to be asked to participate!

Cheerio,

Dr J

G = V + E + H (C2) [A Tribute]

“You had the grace to hold yourself, while those around you crawled…” Elton John, Candle in the Wind”

Lucille Kelleher (1925-2009): A Touch of Grace

Grace. It is one of THOSE words. One of those words that we hear often, use lightly, and rarely think about what it means. I’ve been hearing it a lot lately, and unlike most situations when the word gets bandied about, this time I’m listening.

The reason is simple: it’s about my mom. On Wednesday April 8th at approximately 3pm, my mother departed this world. It was not unexpected, as she had been ill for a long time. But still. It was an intense, exhausting, and blessed experience to be with her at the end of her long, generally happy life.

She left us, at the end, with few words, yet even in the last days, in the throes of obvious pain and discomfort, she often mustered her signature expression: a smile. She was grace personified…and I feel blessed to have been close to her–physically, emotionally, and spiritually–during the transition. I was the last to hear her voice.

Four days before she died, she simply looked up at me, and quite adroitly, spoke the words, “I want to get out of here..(pregnant pause)…literally.” (Yes, ever eloquent, her final word, was “literally”!). Upon this final salutation, she smiled, squeezed my hand, and slept. A few days later, the vital heart released its grip, and, after 83 life-loving years, she was free from this world.

Now it has been over a week since she got her wish, and I can’t get this word–”grace”– out of my mind. Everyone who calls or writes or speaks of their long and abiding friendship with my mother says it: she had grace. She was graceful. I’m trying to make some sense of it all–to take her down off the pedestal (let’s face it, she wasn’t Marilyn Monroe, or Princess Di!) and reflect on how she came to embody this lofty, clearly deserved, yet seemingly impenetrable attribute.

Of course, if I’m truly honest with myself, there’s a selfish basis to this reflection as well. Not only do I want to honor, respect and remember my mom as having “grace”–and perhaps get a better understanding of what that meant for her–but I want some of that grace stuff for myself. Don’t we all? Did she pass on “grace” to me, at least by osmosis?

I was adopted…so I didn’t get it in my genes. On top of that, As I think about my work with clients and the powerful “life-shifts” that I am passionate about supporting in them, I also wish for them–a touch of grace. Actually, more than a touch: a graceful living, a graceful dying. A life of grace.

But how do we, as non-royal, non-celebrity, ordinary humans, gain access to the blessing of grace? Is there a recipe we can follow? Perhaps not. But, in honor of my mother’s passing, and the remarkable, yet unmistakable gift of grace that she brought to life — and to death itself–I hereby offer up what I would consider my mom’s personal concoction: G = V + E + H(C2).

First, we start with the big “V” for vitality. If you don’t have the pulse of life energy pulsing through your veins, keeping you motivated, enthusiastic and ALIVE–even at the end–you can’t possible embody grace.

I remember my mother, at age 75, two weeks before she was due for a double knee transplant surgery, hopping a series of planes with me…and

V is for vitality!

wandering the streets of Venice, Florence and Sienna. She had never been to Europe before–and her retort when I expressed concern: “damn if I’m gonna pass up a chance to see the world, just because of a little knee pain.” Of course, she could barely walk, and she required a wheelchair as we sallied across the Ponte Vecchio…but no matter, she positively radiated a desire for adventure, for exploration. That’s vitality…and before you can acquire grace, you gotta have it, in spades.

Secondly, I think the perfect complement to vitality is equanimity. Balance. Calm. Groundedness. It has been many decades since I saw my mom “fly off the handle” (when I was nine years old, she tore up my bedroom in a tizzy because I just couldn’t seem to pick up my dirty clothes!).

Equanimity--a delicate balance

She faced off with just about every kind of “lemon” that life could throw at her, and pretty much always made lemonade (which always had to have a touch of sherry!).

Cool, collected, easy-going—these are words that could easily describe how my mom lived life. She handled the ups and downs of the economy—sometimes she could afford a new outfit, sometimes she couldn’t—but she always had enough money for a gift for a friend, for a small donation to the Cancer Society. She wasn’t extravagant; she was equanimous, balanced, even-keel.

So to get grace you gotta have vitality; you gotta have equanimity; and, to solidify the three-legged stool, you gotta have Humor. “Life is too short,” my mom would say, “we all need a good chuckle–on a daily basis–or what’s the point?” She wasn’t a big extrovert,

Buddha had that right idea!

or the life of the party, but she knew how to find the humor in life’s absurdity; how to turn “even a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile” (as a kid, I fondly remember Saturday nights with Mary Tyler Moore; my mom idolized her!).

After a few sips of a martini (or more likely her favorite: Jack Daniels and water, always “with a twist!”), she would roll out her latest joke…”hey did you hear the one about the priest, the minister and the Rabbi?” She’d have us all in stitches. Unfortunately, to this day, I can’t tell a good joke–so I rely on my ability to toss off a good one-liner now and again. I guess joke-telling skills are genetic, but no matter. She exuded humor. Laughter was her song…and I know that thanks to her, I can always hum a few bars.

Finally, just because you’ve mixed up a cocktail with vitality, equanimity and humor, I still don’t think you’ve cracked the code called grace. There are a couple more key ingredients. You see, grace is not for the faint of heart: Grace requires fortitude.

Never be afraid to go out on that limb...

You can’t be a wilting flower, or hang back in the corner watching life go by…and get the moniker “grace.” You have to get out and live–with Courage and Compassion. For this two-fer, or C-squared as I like to think of it, I think it’s safe to put my mom back up on the pedestal.

She was courageous to a fault–outliving a full hysterectomy at the ripe old age of 24, outliving a bout with life-threatening pneumonia at 36, out-maneuvering double-knee replacements and still dancing at her 80th birthday party…out-living two husbands and two poodles, a long string of shia-tsu’s

She outlived them all...

and a mangy cat…and outliving a cancer diagnosis that was supposed to have her in the grave eight years ago.

Her courage, her strength of heart, and her will to live confounded the doctors for so long that a couple of them passed away while she was still doing lunch!

As for compassion, I think it can be summed up in very simply phrase: she loved everyone. From the taxi drivers, many of whom spilled their life stories to her on the way from JFK to Manhattan (much to my chagrin!), to the twenty-something hospice worker who became a trusted lunch companion, to her therapist who evolved into her best friend, to the great grandsons whose four-year old patter filled her life with joy: my mother cared about everyone.

She didn’t discriminate or judge. She had no tolerance for fundamentalists, religious zealots or homophobes, yet she never railed against them. She just stated the obvious: “they sure do miss out on having some great friends.” For my mother, compassion came easy.

So there you have it. A mother’s tried and true recipe for GRACE:
G= V + E + H (C2).

Perhaps, this is an overly simple, rather perfunctory attempt to “quantify” something that is in reality a bit out of reach, a touch effervescent or esoteric (she would have loved those words!). But, today, in tribute to her, I offer up this equation as a simple access route to the ineffable.

Grace, in the face of every inevitable “life-shift,” is always within our grasp. I know. I’ve seen it.

So, if you wanna shift your life into high gear, I suggest the following: Run down to the nearest Walmart and stock up on V, on E, on H, and don’t forget to buy extra C’s. They’ll come in handy when the chips are down.

Only one thing can never be washed away...

Thanks mom…for being you. You may not have been a great cook, but you knew how to mix just the right ingredients to perfect a life…with grace.

With love,

DR J

Demons, Dragons, and The Daimon (part two)

Well, wouldn’t you know it? No sooner I had hit the “post” button on part one of this blog, the demons came out swinging.

We've all been there...

By late in the day yesterday, I was felled by a full-blown assault: sore throat, achy head, stuffy nose, body aches…not a pretty picture.

Was I surprised? Not really. I could feel the anxiety rising in me (even mentioned it in my final paragraph yesterday), as I thought about the controversy my post might engender…and about the formidable challenge that lay ahead: trying to slay that dragon of fear. No easy task…and I’m basically a simple country boy from New England, no super powers here.

This morning, after a good night’s sleep and a 90 minute miracle cure called yoga (more on that soon), I feel much better. BUT, I’m still acutely aware that my little expose suggesting that the demons of illness often have emotional underpinnings, runs counter to the bio-medical model that serves as our cultural norm. With the emergence of diagnostic categories for just about every imaginable symptom (restless leg syndrome anyone?) and a drug industry ready to promote a magic pill that cures everything (we now even have an anti-depressant that works on top of other anti-depressants that don’t…thanks Abilify!), the very ancient idea that we might LEARN from our illness, that our body–and soul–might be speaking to us through the symptom…well, that is very much out of vogue.

Counter culture or no, I still hold to my thesis: much of the time our bodies get sick because we are driving on auto-pilot in the fast lane, avoiding, denying, or just plain ignoring the emotional billboard that reads: Change! And FEAR–accompanied by its demon sidekicks, anxiety, stress and worry–is in the driver’s seat.

Who's driving this bus?

So, let’s hit the road. Gather up your courage, as we face down the demons, enter the dragon’s lair, and consider a crucial question: Why is fear so difficult to conquer? Here are a few possible reasons:

1. Fear is irrational. In today’s world, where fixing the body is akin to fixing a car (have you soon the TV show “House”? Jung would turn over in his grave if he could witness this 21st century archetypal hero/fixer of the human machine, who operates devoid of any human emotion), the idea that fear– irrational, invisible, uncontrollable, and elusive–might be lurking in the ER, is antithetical to our view of medicine.

2. Fear operates at the intersection of mind and body. At the end of the day, fear, whether we like to admit it or not, is a FEELING. And feelings don’t simply hang out in the cerebral cortex or in the lower intestines. They are more than just neuro-impulses racing across acetylcolene-filled synapses; they are what makes us human, mysterious…and NOT a machine.

Now Doctor, tell me again exactly where FEAR is located?

They are complex, inscrutable, and hard to pin down with a pill, a knife, or even a therapist!

3. Fear has no regard for past, present, or future. Fear is always “fear of” something, but for some crazy reason (again a mystery that makes humans unique in the animal kingdom), the thing we are afraid of rarely exists in the present. We are terrorized by doomsday forecasts, just as we cling, usually unconsciously, to the horrors of the past.

The hard-to-accept truth about fear is that unless you are staring down an ax murderer in your front yard–or have a bear on your doorstep (don’t ask, I had that happen to me…and boy that was FEAR!)—the symptoms you have are very likely not about today…but about yesterday, tomorrow and the rest of your life.

Ghosts from the past and goblins from the future are TOUGH to root out (why do you think Charles Dickens “A Christmas Carol” is a classic tale: we can all relate to the terrors old Ebenezer faced…from the past…from the future. But it is also a story of redemption and conquered fear…).

The key to slaying the dragon is to attack it where it lives, in the irrational world of lions, tigers and bears (uh-huh), at the crossroads of mind/body, and on the frontiers of memory and fantasy. Here’s the recipe that I follow:

1. Accept that your fear is real. This is the crucial first step. As all the therapists and spiritual gurus in the world will tell you: self-awareness is half the battle. It’s ok to be afraid. We all are.

my favorite symbol for self awareness

During my yoga class yesterday, when I was feeling like death warmed over…I didn’t just fantasize about chicken soup and Tylenol, I asked myself, “Ok Dr J, what are you afraid of?”

The truth was right there for me to see, but accepting it was hard (although once I did, I immediately started feeling better): I’m afraid of being controversial, afraid of making a mistake, afraid of being wrong, afraid of being glib, afraid of being grandiose…all remnants of childhood fears of just not being good enough.

Can anyone out there relate?

Can you admit it to yourself?

Acknowledgment, awareness, compassion (for self): these are the keys to the castle.

2. Take care of mind AND body. The best-selling phenom known as “The Secret” notwithstanding, I don’t buy that positive thinking or “clear intention” can vanquish fear. Ever notice how any expert who writes about the power of intention ALWAYS includes the caveat that they manifested their dreams ONLY AFTER CLEARING OUT all the distractions, obstacles and dead wood–or whatever they decide to call the detritus of FEAR. This gets them off the hook for poor results, because they can always say, “well, you just weren’t a clear enough channel,” all the while avoiding the real culprit: fear. It may make for bestsellers, but, sorry folks, it just ain’t that simple.

This is where practices like yoga, Tai Chi, or Chi Gong come in. You’ve got to get the body engaged.

2000 year old cure!

Your mind, however clairvoyant, can’t do this alone. Yoga is particularly well matched to take on fear, because it brings body, mind and spirit back into alignment, strengthens your core (fear often attacks the gut!), and calms the mind.

3. Engage your fear of the past…and future. This is a tough one, but writing in a journal, finding a friend who’s a good listener (and open-minded), or having a supportive life coach or therapist can help. The key practice is self-inquiry.

Ask yourself what about the future seems scary? What kinds of “worst case scenarios” does your monkey mind generate? Can you see that these are all made up? Can you share your fears…then take a deep breath and come into the present moment, realizing that you’re ok. Now.

Ask yourself, What happened in your recent, or not so recent, past that still burdens you with fright? What are you fearful of happening again (at least in your imagination)?

swimming in fear infested waters?

Fears like to hide out in what you think are forgotten memories, and they like to lurk in the cataclysmic fantasies of an unknown future.

Talk them through. Bring them up. Get them out on the table: when brought into awareness, with compassion and support, their power wanes; soon they lose the ability to hold you hostage.

SO, there you have it. Slaying the dragon is not actually as hard as it sounds…but it must be approached on its own terms. At the end of the day, once you’ve taken the three crucial steps above, FEAR, to my mind, has only one final antidote (remember the redemptive ending to “A Christmas Carol”?): LOVE.

That’s right. Love, and compassion. But before you run out and buy People Magazine to check up on Jen and Brad….I don’t mean the gossipy, fatuous, clingy kind of love. I mean the energy of desire, connection, meaning and purpose–LOVE of life itself–the daimon of passion and compassion that fuels our inspiration, our creativity, our deep longing for community.

Love–what the Greeks call Eros or Agape–is much like fear, but is its opposite, and that’s why it is so powerful: love, like fear, is irrational. Love, like fear, operates at the intersection of mind and body. Love, like fear, has no regard for past, present and future. Love is as elusive as fear, yet, when present in our lives, it fuels our growth, nourishes our transformation, brings us into deep alignment with each other…and calms the soul.

Compassion, for ourselves and each other, is what binds us together as people; it is what makes a family a family (not genetics–oftentimes genetic families are ANYTHING but loving); it is what makes community–even culture–possible. And, most important of all, compassion/caring/love…heal us. They make us human; they make us whole.

wisdom of the elders

I’ve said this before in this blog, and I’ll say it again: the thing that will slay the dragon of fear faster than any pharma fix is a good old-fashioned, deeply felt, hug. That’s right. We may be terrified to jump in the river of change…but maybe, just maybe, if we grab hold of each other tight enough, we can buck the tide.

Dr J

Demons, Dragons and the Daimon (part one)

“There are times when we may fool ourselves. There are times when we can fool others. But we can never fool our body. It is the most sensitive barometer of our inner world.” –Sherrill Sellman

The demons are back!

For the past few months, I have been waking up in the morning with what can only be described as “a jaw ache.” I get out of bed, slipper-slide my way to the coffee maker, and notice that my mouth feels like it has been nailed shut. Fortunately, the sense of “lock-down” persists for only a few minutes. When I sit breathing deeply in meditation, or take a few swigs of java–my jaw loosens and the pain subsides.

I didn’t think much of it until I heard on an NPR talk show that dentists recently reported a 50 percent jump in cracked and broken teeth in the past six months. Of course, as trained scientists, they just note the data and try to avoid speculating on why this might be happening…but I’ll venture a guess: anxiety, worry, stress…maybe FEAR?! (not that we are living through a fearful time…)

Does once every twenty years make a pattern? Not sure, but I can tell you that in 1989 when I first moved to New York City, I remember going to the dentist for the first time (on the 90th floor of the Empire State Building, whoa!) and he asked me if I “grind my teeth?” I had no idea what he was talking about, except to note that ever since arriving in NYC, I had been waking up in the morning with a jaw ache…rather like the one I currently have. He told me that I needed to be careful about this–that if it persisted I could crack/split a tooth during the night, or wear down the enamel, and the subsequent treatment could be quite extensive, expensive, and painful. Yikes.

Of course, the great irony was that he had a thoroughly unscientific, but rather profound explanation for my teeth-grinding: anxiety. He noted that many new patients, who come to NYC from other places, often have a great deal of anxiety in their transitional months. He was right, of course. I was excited, but also was anxious about moving to New York: I was worried about my finances living in such an expensive city; I was worried about being lonely in a city of 8 million; I was worried about starting my new job; I was overwhelmed by all the amazing things to do in the city…that cost money. You get the idea.

The good news, is that within a few months–by the time of my next visit–the pain had subsided and I guess I had became a relaxed, just normally stressed out New Yorker…with a loose jaw. Teeth intact.

Twenty years on..it appears that the teeth-grinding night demons are back. And it seems, according to NPR and the national dentists association, that I’m not the only one whose dream state is being attacked by little guys taking jack-hammers to my teeth while I snooze.

So what is going on here? Well, to my mind, what I’m going to call the “anxiety demons” represent bad news…and good news.

Unpleasant little devils!

The bad news is that we are living in a particularly stressful time — and the symptoms of anxiety, stress, and worry are ubiquitous. The good news is that the demons are prescient, potent and insightful: we just need to listen to their message, and almost always, they signal CHANGE is afoot. Our job, if we have the awareness to hear the message, is to not RESIST…but, as best as possible, to go with the flow. Change, even disruptive upheaval…usually happens for our own good (that’s where the daimon comes in, but I’m getting ahead of myself).

Back to the den of demons. Have you or anyone else you know experienced an unusual number of physical ailments lately? I’ve notice that a large number of my friends–and clients–have recently been taken down by a plethora of them: back pain, hepatitis, insomnia, stomach flu, sinusitis, skin rashes, Lyme disease.

One friend, who is considering a major career move that will take him across the country and potentially away from his spouse, took to bed with what he thought was the flu. Five weeks and many shed pounds later, he realized that the tenacious bug was a big wake-up call: he needed to rest, reflect, and really think through his decision. He was deeply anxious and wrought with guilt over the desired change.

A client who I’ve recently taken on is “thinking big” for the first time in years, pondering life shifts that may take him and his wife into a new business venture, away from their home state, and perhaps out of his twenty year career in the hotel industry. In the midst of this “life-shift,” he has committed to tackle the one major demon that has held him back for years: his weight. Yet, in the first few weeks of our work together, as he gears up to face the possibility of major change–and a new regimen of diet and exercise–he has actually gained five pounds. Oops, wrong direction.

What’s going on here? Why do the demons attack just when we’re most vulnerable?

Well, my take is this: the demons are actually trying to protect us, to keep us from risking too much, upsetting the apple cart of our lives…and disturbing the peace. They are what I call the “front line” defense soldiers, attacking from the flanks–in the stomach, the mouth, the head, and the back (oh, could I tell you stories about clients with back pain!).

They are actually fairly benign in most cases–representing a temporary onslaught–but their goal is simple: to warn you about the dragon, that big time protector of what we might call, in Kafka-esque terms: the Keeper of the Castle “Status Quo.”

Demons, simply put, are symptoms. Symptoms, as Freud pointed out over a hundred years ago, are often the street lamps on the road to repressed fears, forbidden desire, and unhealed trauma. They can be a wake-up call that it is time to face down the dragon of fear…and move forward towards a new landscape. The mistake we often make, however–and that our sound-bite culture reinforces–is to ignore the deeper roar of the dragon, and tend the symptom alone. “Pop the pill,” “sleep it off,” “cut it out” (metaphorically AND quite often, literally), and “get back to work.” These are our mantras. And what of change, growth, re-birth, transformation? Ah, no thanks, please pass the NyQuil.

So, in most situations, we stay focused on the demons, try to alleviate the symptoms, and avoid coming face-to-face with the dragon we most want to avoid: the dragon of fear.

the real culprit...

Why? Well, partly because the meaning behind the demon of illness can be elusive: sometimes a cold is just a cold. BUT, more often, I think, especially when we sense (if we take the time to reflect) that our symptoms may well be related to stress/anxiety, is this: fear is a formidable foe.

Slaying the dragon is no easy task. It is often easier to just pick off the demons, one by one, rather than face the truth of our deeper pain, or hear in to the music of our deepest desire. Yet, when we are finally anxious enough, fed up enough, sick enough, or just downright MAD (witness the recent election) enough, we may just rise to the occasion…and stand up to our fears, shouting, to the world, to ourselves, “yes we can~!”

The key to this shift—and you can bet we are in the midst of a major one right now—is awareness; becoming aware that the underlying issue is FEAR; that the headaches, body aches, diet dramas, and other afflictions, are not [always] random, accidental or genetic (as pharma execs and some psychiatrists would have us believe) but very simply the body’s own language, signaling us of FEAR…and CHANGE.

Here’s the rub: You can’t slay a dragon if you refuse to acknowledge that it exists (look what it took for us to finally see the insanity of the Wall Street fueled housing debacle). Only by becoming aware that we are AFRAID…or that we are UNHAPPY, literally “sick and tired” of the status quo, only then may we step beyond the demons…and enter the dragon’s lair.

At this point, you may rightfully be asking, “Ok, I’ve had a demon here or there, but if I can “take two aspirin and feel better in the morning,” why would I want to face down my deepest fears?” Good question. Yet, it is exactly that kind of thinking that gets us into these extreme messes — witness the mortgage crisis–in the first place.

By side-stepping the guardian of the castle, and avoiding our irrational terror of change, we are prevented from accessing the one thing that brings joy, passion and the energy of possibility into our lives: the daimon of our deepest desire. We all know what the dragons of folk tales really guard in those foreboding medieval castles: buried treasure!

buried in each and every one of us...

Think about it. What are we really most afraid of? That we might have to shift our life focus from “money” to “meaning?” That there really could be joy in having less “stuff” and more time? That the breakdown in the “house of cards” called free market capitalism might cause us to re-evaluate what really matters?

It does seem that just as we get comfy in our strata-loungers, something equally demonic, but in a good way–shows up to shake us up, forcing us to change and grow. It is a mystery par excellence: this daimon of passion and longing, the creative impulse to build new castles and try out new economic systems, the drive towards a better world–the instinct to elect better leaders. Where does this come from?

Carl Jung considered the daimon the key to individuation: a daemonic pull towards growth and transformation that ultimately pushes aside our complacent, self-absorbed ego-self to reveal the soul, or Self with a capital “S”. Thomas Moore, in his new book “A Life at Work,” likens the daimon to our “soul’s desire”–a calling from deep within the unconscious to create meaning, connection, and depth in our lives, and in the world. In short, our life’s work:

A daimon is an unnamed urge that pushes you in a certain direction. it is the force behind the passion and tenacity of your yearning. The Romans believed that a child is born with his daimon, or in their language, his genius. It is a fertile idea; that the deep passion and drivenness that stays with us all our lives is there from the beginning. The daimon is a primal, creative urge. The daimonic voice is deep-seated and connected to your personality and destiny. [The challenge] (sic) is to learn to trust it, without being naive or giving up your basic skepticism.

To my mind, the daimon represents the final frontier—below the demon, beyond the dragon. It is that deep inner voice that calls forth our deepest aspirations as humans: to live out our dreams, to make the world a better place for our children, to satisfy our hunger for peace, brotherhood, and community. We all know those feelings, even the most cynical among us were deeply moved by the recent inauguration of President Obama. SO, where does that voice—the one that calls forth the immeasurable creative potential of humanity—reside?

It’s in there, deep in our souls, but it can be hard to hear behind the din of demons and dragons who would hold us hostage to anxiety, stress, worry, guilt..and loudest of all: our fear. In my next blog, I’m going to explore further how we might “slay the dragon.” But for now (funny, I can feel my jaw tighten in anticipation…it’s almost as if my own demons are just lying in wait, whispering, “leave us be…don’t rock the boat…just take that Xanax the Doctor prescribed…no need to get feisty on us!”), I’ll leave you with this question:

What demons have been showing up in your life lately? Are you ignoring them? Fighting them? Perhaps…listening in for the message they carry?

Behind the fortress of fear...is there a doorway to possibility?

What dragon of fear or harbinger of change might they be pointing to? Are you listening? Please let me know. We’re all on this battlefield together…

Of course, the recipe for success, even in this trying time, is simple (but not easy!):

1. De-code your demons

2. Slay the dragon…and

3. Follow your daimon.

Onward, HO!

Dr J