In my view, perhaps the simplest definition of psychological well-being is the ability to consistently accomplish chosen goals with enjoyment. This is really pretty simple. Do you exercise the way you want to? Do you eat the way you want to? Do you interact with others, and with your job, and pursue your career the way you want to?
Most of us, and I clearly belong in this category, are some combination of well and ill. We go to work every day, we more or less get our work done, albeit often without enthusiasm. We sort of stick to our diets, but not completely, and not without some resentment. We more or less do our fitness programs, but without excitement.
Higher level self organization, though, would enable each of us, over time, to do superior work in all areas of our lives, and enjoy it. This is the obvious path forward, that can be pursued independent of religious or spiritual beliefs. It is quite adequate even for atheists.
What I wanted to say, though, is that failing to pursue the goals we choose, is in some measure to fail to be who we are. My own goals are ridiculously ambitious, but even so, I do not pursue them with the diligence with which I know I am capable. If you are going to climb a mountain, it makes sense to keep going up, and not to circle it. One sees this terms self sabotage. I like the term self mutilation better, as the habit of paralysis has lasting consequences.
And I would draw a parallel with cutting as well, which most people–certainly all kids–are familiar with now. How does cutting ease pain?
In answering this question, I think one must look not just at psychological data, but to our broader culture, which most psychologists seem loathe to do. It may be that if it is not in a lab it is not science. At the same time, you have to look for the truth where it is. To do otherwise is to be like the drunk Irishman, who when asked why he was looking for his keys under the lamp, when he had dropped them a dozen yards back outside the pub, replied “because the bloody light is better.”
Our modern world lacks rules. Our children, by and large, are only reliably taught that you can’t judge people based on race, and that their chief task in life is to consume. To put it bluntly, this is a really shitty identity, and more or less a form of child abuse. We can’t ask them to do our damn job, which is to give them some sense of moral compass, and some reason to persist in the face of difficulty.
It seems to me that to relate to others deeply, you have to be able to feel deeply, and to feel deeply you have to have some means by which to contextualize suffering. It can be as simple as “life is like that”. It must involve the rejection of self pity, however it is accomplished.
And it must involve pain. I think any child that is too comfortable throughout childhood will be lacking in empathetic capacity. I think of sterotypical Valley girls, whose entire lives involve nearly perfect weather, malls, beauty salons and cosmetic surgery, and sex at an early age.
Sex: what a hopelessly lifeless word. A penis and a vagina or some other orifice coming together rhyhmically for some period of time, until some degree of biological tension is released, temporarily. No emotional connection need be implied.
I don’t like sex–well, actually I enjoy it like everyone else–but what I really WANT is to do it with someone I can see sitting on the front porch with 40 years from now, long after I have the need, or possibly even physical capacity, to do it.
Most kids nowadays, certainly not the boys, don’t think this way. They watch hard and softcore pornography, and come to view women–girls, initially–as existing in some sort of parallel world devoid of emotional committment. For their part, girls come to view themselves in much the same way. They give of themselves, but always think in the back of their minds that the boy will appreciate them much more than he ever does.
The best model for depression I have seen is that of the dog on the electrified plate. It has, I think, been some time since I’ve talked about this, so I’ll run through that quickly. I think the following is correct, but I may have slightly altered some detail.
Experiments were done, in another time and age when ethical concerns were not so prevalent, in which dogs were placed in a cage with an electrical plate. It would be turned on, and initially the dogs were given a pathway out, so they could avoid the pain. Then the door was locked, and there was literally nothing they could do. After having endured this for some time, the door was reopened; yet, the dogs would remain where they were, enduring the shock. This phenomenon is called Learned Helplessness.
What I think many kids nowadays learn is that our common culture is so weak that what deep feelings they have can nowhere be communicated. Nobody seems to want to listen. Nobody wants to hear about feelings of rage–say, at some boy–or confusion as to what to do in life, or fear about the future, when there are so many ways the world could end in a nasty way.
They are alone. Maybe you the reader feel alone. Nobody wants to hear the thoughts you think may be silly, but which are yours. Maybe you are a poet, but afraid to share it with anyone. Or maybe you share it with everyone, and nobody reads it; or maybe they think you are stupid.
How do we connect with one another? Who are we? Have we not all been through this synchronizing mechanism in which we compare tastes in movies, or sports, or music? You listen to the Killers? Cool, I think they are the best. You a Packers fan? Me, too. Somebody was doing the dialogue to Caddy Shack the other day. I only saw that movie once, 25 years ago. I don’t remember anything but Bill Murray and the gopher. I was left out of that conversation.
This is the root of cutting. Pain is real, is it not? It is not ambiguous. And I think all the piercing and tattooing we see going on is just a thinly veiled extension of cutting. Eyebrow piercings? Ear gauges? We are all looking at one another, lonely at the core of our being. We can all be cool with each other, but who will get up in the middle of the night to save you? Who will run into a burning building for you?
The Portuguese have this word “saudade”. I may have mentioned this, but if so it’s been a while. It is the feeling an ocean faring people get, that is sort of a longing for what is in the distance. As I understand it, it can be both a longing for home, when you are far away, and a longing for far away, when you are home. It is a sad restlessness, a lack of contentedness, a need to move.
This is what the Buddhists and Taoists called desire. To be happy, is to be happy where you are.
I have things to do. As I note on the side there, this blog is for open thoughts, and random musings. Thoughts can be like paintings or scultures. The Goodness Movement blog is sort of my museum, and this is my workshop. You have to play with the materials, you have to hit things roughly the same way, but from many different angles. These are all sketches. Some I complete, some I don’t.
Always, I am trying to learn, though: to see what I should see, if my eyes were clear.