How do you deal with your mind's monkey?

Recently, I saw a friend of mine offering free coaching consultations on Facebook and I naturally asked myself if that was something I would be interested in trying. Oh man, did that little question raise quite the emotional tissy. "You've been living your life pretty well for many years now. You don't need someone else to help you." So, I turned away from the offer and continued about my business. I stumbled upon the offer again later and faced the same reaction. This time, however, I was primed for battle and I sent reason, my greatest defender, into the ring. Unsurprisingly, the fight didn't take long. Logical argument makes it abundantly clear that "giving it a try" in this case has little to no downside (just, perhaps, a little wasted time) and unlimited upside. So, I scheduled an initial consultation.

It turns out that this resistance to change is so common and so long-lived that the Buddhists gave it its own name: Mind Monkey. The name makes a lot of sense I think. You can actually imagine a monkey flinging its feces at your beautiful ideas. I struggle with this moniker, however, as it sends the message that the mind monkey should be forgotten and avoided (as you would do with a monkey threatening you with the undigested bits of his last meal). But perhaps this voice has some value. Maybe instead of ignoring it, we just need to provide balance.

I believe it's time for a thought experiment:

Meet Joe, he's a pretty bad guitar player and singer. One morning he wakes up and says to himself, "I'm going to make a living playing music." Joe's monkey starts flinging: "Well, you're not a very good musician and you don't have a fan base." Here, these statements are more or less true, and I'd say it's crucial that Joe listens. That said, Joe's goals aren't unachievable. With sufficient practice and networking they might be realizable. So, it's probably best that Joe listens to the monkey and, rather than be discouraged, create a plan that will allow him to achieve his dream.

Three years pass and Joe can play some mean guitar and has managed to polish his voice a bit. People are starting to notice and he has a bunch of friends in the music scene that are hiring him and supporting him. He wakes up that day and says "I think it's time to quit my job and go all in with music." Monkey mind resumes flinging: "Seriously?! What, you think you're a good musician now just because you've been practicing? And what if it doesn't work out? How will you pay your bills?"

So what now? The truth of monkey's statements are much more ambiguous. Is Joe a good musician now? Well, there are certainly a lot of people who are much better than he is. Will he be successful? Probabilistically, it's unlikely. And what about bills?

There's no way to answer all these questions with certainty. It's the uncertain paths, however, that generally lead to the greatest reward. So, how can we tread an uncertain path with certainty?

One approach I'm considering is goal-based scheduling. Here's what Joe's might look like:

To go all in to music, I have to meet or exceed these goals:
- $5k saved in the bank.
- $300/month coming in through music-related activities.
- At least 500 people on my mailing list.

To continue music past the first year, I have to meet or exceed these goals:
- $2k saved in the bank.
- $500/month coming in through music-related activities.
- At least 1,000 people on my mailing list.

When the time come for Joe to go all in, the monkey will certainly begin to chatter. This time, however, it's Joe who comes with facts while the monkey has primarily speculation and worry. And, though Joe can't be confident that he'll be a successful musician, he'll be able to walk the path confidently knowing that he met, and continues to meet, his goals.

I'm sure there are many ways to combat monkey mind. What are yours?

The child and the tutor: A mental model for tangible emotional growth

Photo by Wilson X

In my last article about emotional growth, I stated an important belief of mine: with enough time and effort someone can achieve a level of emotional maturity that we associate with some of our respected spiritual leaders. Reflecting a little on that statement, I'm finding it to be a little short-sighted. If I had said "with enough time and effort, anyone can achieve a desired degree of physical maturity (e.g., fitness, dexterity, etc.)," I would've noticed my mistake immediately. Genetics play a limiting role in what we can achieve. Since emotions are (or at least seem to be) less tangible than the physical, however, it's easy to forget this as it relates to emotional growth. That said, we should not diminish our ideal because it's possible genetics won't allow us to reach it. It is important, however, that we accept the limits set by nature without anger or remorse.

Of course this is more easily said than done. We have been trained by our society to judge according to the standards of our society: this person is't thin enough, is too thin, is too gay, is too poor. The list continues. As we judge outwardly, however, we reinforce inflicting those same judgements inwardly. That is, the things that we judge others for are the things that we will inevitably judge ourselves for and vice-versa. Even worse, these judgements usually do little but propagate anger and depression where we desire happiness. Unfortunately, the specific judgements we make on a day to day basis are so engrained in our way of thinking that it's hard to remember that they aren't part of human nature. But they aren't and you only need to compare one culture's "should be's" to another to see that this is the case.

It's here that I want to introduce a mental model that helps me deal with emotions that I call the child and the tutor. A very young child has little knowledge about the world around them. Their behaviors are dictated by emotion. When a newborn is hungry, he/she is not likely to know what is wrong, just that something is wrong. The fact that something is wrong is conveyed to the outside world by crying. Conversely, "all is well" is conveyed by gurgles or laughter. It's a parent's job to figure out what the child is trying to express (even though the child probably couldn't say so themselves). Fortunately, a parent (i.e., the tutor) has a great body of knowledge to draw from and, if knowledge fails them, the old "hand the baby things until he stops crying" technique seems to do wonders.

As the child grows older they have basic language skills at their disposal but very little ability to reason. A child who is afraid of dogs probably won't be able to reason with themselves to figure out why they're afraid and understand that, in some instances, fear is an unreasonable response. So, a parent will step into the rationale role and ask the child why he/she's afraid, and help them to deal with that fear.

As we grow into adults, I believe that this emotional creature (i.e., the child) persists and we become our own tutors (occasionally drawing help from the outside world). However, since the child and tutor inhabit the same mind, the child can use a more direct means of communication. Instead of expressing an emotional response physically (e.g., by crying), the child only needs to convey that emotion. Some who tend to be more rationale will ignore the child completely because it's perceived to be irrational. However, the child can be an important tool for understanding the world around us, recognizing danger, etc. That said, we can continue to tutor the child just as our parents did before we were able to. Just as our parents did, we'll need to understand the child's emotional responses and, in some cases, retrain those emotional responses. The fear of dogs example can be applied here as well. If an adult is afraid of dogs, they can reason with the child based on the information they have at their disposal. They might also start forcing themselves to approach smaller unassuming dogs thus forcing the child to confront that fear.

The benefits of using this model is that we have a tangible way of dealing with our emotions. We come to understand that we can modify how we respond emotionally to stimuli just as our parents did with us when we were unable to reason for ourselves. I believe this model also helps us to see the importance of acceptance. Rejecting our childs' responses is similar to ignoring a crying baby simply because you don't want to be bothered. In some instances, ignoring a crying baby is the best action to take for the sake of the child. However, before taking this action, a caring parent (i.e., one who cares about the baby's emotional development above all else) would want to first search for the root cause of the baby's response and actively decide that ignoring it is the best approach.

My next article will defend this model a bit more through example as well as show how we can use this model to pursue emotional growth. In the meantime, I welcome and encourage thoughts and critiques. Thank you all for reading and see you soon.

A journey into emotional growth

In my pursuit of (atheistic) spiritual enlightenment I have uncovered a myriad previously hidden paths that beg travel. One of those paths is emotional growth. That is, through my writing and thoughts that have not yet been shared, I have come to the conclusion that spiritual enlightenment requires emotional growth. At the beginning of this journey I was wary of emotions we typically classify as negative: anger, depression, sadness, etc. I suspected that an emotionally mature person would most often be happy regardless of the problems they face. However, I have come to see that there's a place for all emotions. I thank my friends for helping me to understand that. Unfortunately, I now find myself without a definition of emotional maturity. If it's not someone who's always happy, what is it.

I'm going to take another approach this time. Instead of just coming up with a definition, let me name a few people who I suspect are emotionally mature and then figure out what it is about them that makes them so. Some people who come to mind: Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Dr. Martin Luther King. While I wish I knew these individuals enough to know how they thought and how they experience emotion, I can only guess. Here are my best guesses based on their actions (those that I have knowledge of):

• They each had the ability to care deeply about people - even people they knew little about.
• Each responded emotionally - with anger, sadness, etc. - to evil acts they witnessed and they were able to harness these emotions to move themselves and others to action.
• Each was able to overcome their fear of confronting evil. The old adage "ignorance is bliss" is frightfully accurate. It takes courage to face truth and one must overcome their fears in order to do so.
• Each was able to put personal needs and emotions aside in the interest of what they considered to be the greater good. Or, perhaps happiness for them was a product of others' happiness.

Before I proceed, let me restate an important axiom of many of my conclusions about growth (intellectual, emotional, etc.). If a person desires to reach a certain level of aptitude, they only need to study and practice sufficiently in order to do so. Some people are born with natural talents (be they musical, emotional or otherwise). These people can reach the same level a less talented person can reach with less effort. Also, energy spent earlier on will be more fruitful than energy spent later. Kids have fewer beliefs to reconcile with new ones they come across.

Assuming this axiom holds true (and I believe it does), we are all capable of achieving the level of emotional maturity that we associate with the people I referenced above. The questions at this point are how and why? More thoughts on that soon. Looking forward to your feedback.

The spirituality of atheism: The reason to search

Those of you that know me know that swing dancing is one of the activities that I pursue in my spare time.  I started dancing a while ago - longer than I sometimes like to admit.  I was hooked from my very first rock step.  Over time, I danced more, I took workshops, I watched other dancers and I took private lessons.  Not surprisingly, I got better.  Why had I bothered spending all this time and money just to learn how to dance?  I never meant to make it a profession.  I don't participate in competitions except as a personal challenge.  I occasionally teach, but not as a vocation.  So, if not for any of those reasons then why?  Well, I can think of a few:

• I wanted to be liked by the cool kids.
• I wanted to be noticed.  I wanted to be able to impress people.
• The better I got, the more fun I had.

Unfortunately, I think there's some truth in all of these.  However, I believe I am most compelled by the last reason.  Being a much better dancer now than I was at the start, I know that there are things that I can do on the dance floor now that I wasn't originally capable of.  I am better at communicating to my partner what I want to do and more receptive to my partners' subtle suggestions, I am better at listening and dancing to the music.  I'm sure the list goes on.  However, I think that we can summarize all of these by saying, "I am better at having fun."

This is really what we strive for in everything we do, isn't it?  You may object and say "I spend the majority of my life working, and I don't really enjoy work."  Yes, but why do you work?  You work so that you can enjoy the rest of your life.  You work so that you can travel, so that you can eat good food, so that you can take care of your family.  Also, don't you think you'd be happier if you did enjoy your work?

In any case, we naturally understand that there's a benefit in practicing the things we enjoy doing even though we may not intuit that the benefit is greater enjoyment.  Unfortunately, I don't think we understand that there is, for the same reason, similar benefits in practicing life itself.  The fact that that statement, "practicing life," sounds so funny probably lends credence to my argument.   What does it even mean?

Therein lies the important question.  When I want to practice swing dancing, I practice my swing out, I learn new moves, etc.  When I want to practice piano, I play scales and stage mock performances with the Jamie Aebersold trio.  When I want to practice life, I ...

Unfortunately I'm not prepared to answer this question just yet and I would argue that pursuit of this answer is, in fact, what we call spirituality.  That is, spiritual growth is the pursuit of a the perfect life - a life that is in each moment more enjoyable than it was in the previous.  What better reason to search?

The spirituality of atheism: The N Commandments

I recently read the book "The Compleat Gentleman" by Brad Miner.  In it, Miner traces the gentleman back to what he believes to be the early archetypes - the knight, the monk and the warrior.  While I did enjoy reading the book, I finished it thoroughly frustrated for two primary reasons.

• Reason 1: On many accounts, Mr. Miner admits that all characteristics of the gentleman can be mastered as well by a woman as they can by a man.  However, he asserts that being a gentleman is a man's game (and not just because the word contains the word "man").  I believe this to be an ignorant stance and I much prefer to establish a new concept and term to refer to a person that embodies the positive qualities that we might associate with a gentleman.  
• Reason 2: While Miner traces the history of the gentleman, he never once tackles the question of why, over time, the archetype "gentleperson" from other cultures and of generations past has so much in common with the "gentleperson" of today (though some research is required to show that this is indeed true).  That is, what is the root of these behaviors, why did we practice them to begin with and why would we adhere to them today?

I hope to tackle some of these questions in this and future posts.  First, however, we require a name for the type of person I'm referring to and, as I am not aware of a fitting name at this time, I will use "Compleat Cosmopolite".  This choice will become clearer in a bit.  Let's list some of the qualities that we might associate with this ideal  (Note: I expect to refer back to, amend and edit the list below as I continue this journey).  Below you will find some, what I consider to be, positive qualities that I have noted in friends and strangers.  They are all qualities that I aspire to have as my own.  I'm absolutely sure that I've forgotten some and that I've misrepresented some of those that I remembered.  However, I hope to lean on my friends and random passers by to help make this list accurate and comprehensive by sharing their own thoughts and comments.  In any case, here it is in its current form:

• The Complete Cosmopolite is gentle with others.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is willing to help others but will not do so at the expense of their own happiness and wellbeing.
• The Complete Cosmopolite understands how to communicate their ideas, and can and will fight for the things they believe in.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is open-minded and can admit when they're wrong and even revels in the discovery.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is creative - can create new ideas by synthesizing their own and taking input from others.
• The Complete Cosmopolite can deal with defeat.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is genuinely happy.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is physically fit. (Note that this doesn't mean the person has to be thin)
• The Complete Cosmopolite is active.
• The Complete Cosmopolite can and will stand up for themselves and others using whatever means necessary as the situation demands.  However, the Complete Cosmopolite will use violence only as a last resort.
• The Complete Cosmopolite does not gloat about their abilities but rather helps others rise to excellence.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is comfortable seeking assistance from others.
• The Complete Cosmopolite cares for their surroundings and the world they live in.
• The Complete Cosmopolite does not pursue happiness at the expense of others' happiness.
• The Complete Cosmopolite holds true to their promises.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is honest.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is comfortable in isolation but can enjoy the company of others.
• The Complete Cosmopolite is patient and entertains explanations for others' actions beyond the explanation that first comes to mind.

I'll refer to this list as the "N Commandments".  While I do hope we can all giggle at the name (life's too short to take ourselves too seriously) my intention is certainly not to make fun.  The wordplay is in admiration of the Ten Commandments - a helpful guide in righteousness.  However, I don't believe any set of "commandments" will be comprehensive, I don't consider the commandments above to be immutable and I don't consider my N Commandments to the same as everyone else's - though I suspect that our lists will have much in common.  So, the "N" in "N Commandments" is meant to imply - as it does in mathematics - that the content of the list will change over time and will differ from person to person.  At this point you're probably wondering "why bother creating a list if it's not universally applicable?"  Well, the answer to that is that I believe that all the characteristics above are natural outcomes of a single thing: believing oneself to be a citizen of the world.  By citizen of the world I mean a person that observes themselves simultaneously as an individual, as a composite (i.e., molecules glued together to form something much greater than the individual pieces), and as a part (i.e, as a molecule themselves in a much larger, much more complex, much more wondrous whole).  I'll call this state of being the "cosmopolite's perspective" and I considered what it might be like in The spirituality of atheism: "On Having No Head" revisited.

So, hopefully my choice of moniker for this type of person is now clear.  A cosmopolite is someone who is a citizen of the world.  By world, I mean all things that exist (let's avoid the subtleties of that word for now).  I chose to use "compleat" to suggest this new moniker is an evolved version of the moniker "The Compleat Gentleman" used by Henry Pecaham in 1622 as the title of his book.  "Compleat" (or complete) also is used to suggest an ideal, something unattainable but worth pursuing.

The interesting question at this point: is there really such a clear connection between the "N Commandments" and the cosmopolite's perspective?  Another interesting point is that the Compleat Cosmopolite's "god" is knowledge as he/she achieves spirituality from learning about the world around them.  We'll leave these for consideration in future posts and future discussions.  In the meantime, I would truly appreciate different perspectives on my thoughts here as it's all too easy to follow the path you're on when others are so well hidden.  Be well.

The spirituality of atheism: "On Having No Head" revisited

A short story inspired by "On Having No Head" by D.E. Harding though with a completely different take on the experience:

On my way to the subway yesterday I came across an old man and his cart.  His cart was filled with various trinkets, the kinds of things that people accumulate during their lifetimes and then throw away only to be replaced by the newest state-of-the-art trinkets.  But the trinkets collected by this man were far from new.  These were the trinkets of days past - a typewriter, a tape deck, a myriad contraptions of various shapes and sizes - each one meticulously maintained and noticeably loved.  How could anyone love these things?  They're defunct, outdated.  The iPhone - now that's a thing that someone could love - certainly not an old typewriter.  But it was clear they were loved.  Each one gleamed under the sun's rays and it seemed almost as if they were...smiling.  I wanted to look up at the man and ask him about his possessions, but I didn't know what to ask.  These things were both unremarkable and brilliant at the same time and my mind was trapped in the spectacle.   I was a stone and only after I heard his voice did I return to flesh.  When he spoke it seemed as though the space around him expanded and contracted with his words.  He said, "they're beautiful, aren't they?"  I was still dazed, unable to respond.  Finally, I recovered from my stupor.  "Why...yes...I guess.  But surely you could have found something a bit less old, no?"   The space expanded, "Time has no bearing on beauty."  Finally, I broke my stare and repositioned my gaze to meet his.  But, to my surprise, his head was missing.  I don't mean that he had gone crazy or had fallen dumb.  I mean what I say quite literally.  He had no head.  I quickly looked down as though his lack of head was an embarrassing facial defect.  Then, summing up all remaining courage, I slowly began to take stock of his body.  Feet, check.  Legs, check.  Torso, check.  Arms, check.  He had no head!  At this point, most people would have removed themselves from the situation as quickly as possible.  However, irrespective of the lacking appendage, he seemed somehow...complete.  I moved in closer.  Upon his shoulders I saw a black metal fence circumscribing a children's playground.  The children laughed and played as parents watched on.  Beyond the black peaks that capped the fence, I found trees and street signs, people and cars rushing by intent on covering the distance separating them from their intended destination as quickly as possible.  "Beautiful, aren't they?", he inquired.  I paused to consider what it is that the man could possibly be referring to.  I rotated my head, stopping to gaze at the bodega across the street.  Outside, the colors of the rainbow were represented in the form of various fruits and vegetables.  A battered green canopy protected the wares from the elements and extended the facade of the market ever so slightly.  A young couple stood outside arguing with each other.  Again, I shifted my gaze to look at the headless man but, this time, saw another beside him looking oddly familiar.  That jacket, those jeans...those are my clothes.  That's my body.  But my head had gone missing.  In its place I saw the sky, the sun, the winter.  Beyond them I saw sadness, laughter, happiness, things that had no name.  I looked closer.  I saw atoms floating through empty space, electrons jumping randomly from one place to another like overactive pets leashed to their owner.  "Beautiful, aren't they?, he inquired.  I stared out from space, from nothingness, from nowhere and everywhere at once.  "Yes, they are", I said.

The spirituality of atheism: Introduction

This post is the first step in what I suspect will be a long and enlightening journey in search of spirit.  While I've approached the idea of spirituality before in my life, I have never done so with the rigor and intensity that I intend to apply to this investigation.  I have certainly never sat down with modern pen and paper in pursuit of an answer.  The answer to what, you ask?  Glad you asked, let's begin with these questions:

• Why bother searching?
• Can an atheist be spiritual?  Does he/she have a spirit?
• What is spirituality for an atheist?
• What are the implications of atheistic spirituality and how do these compare to theistic spirituality?

And before I set out on this journey, let me make one important promise so as to bind myself to it in later posts.  It seems that much of the writing I read about atheism is unnecessarily harsh in their discussions of theism and religion.  This will not be an attack of theists as so many atheistic ponderings tend to be.  I have chosen my path and others may freely choose theirs.  That said, I believe I am ready to begin.  Until next time.