"I'm not sure if I really need this treatment," a patient recently told me. "I'm feeling a lot better than I was," he explained. I looked at the symptom checklist he'd filled out before our session. "According to this, you're still feeling anxious and on guard, you're still getting angry a lot, you're still not comfortable going anywhere that's crowded, and you're still having trouble sleeping," I pointed out. My patient laughed. "You have a good point," he said.
The following week I checked in with him. "You were having some doubts about whether you needed the treatment," I recalled. "How are you feeling about that now?" The patient again expressed doubt, stating that he really is feeling a lot better. "I'm to the point where I can contain the anxiety," he explained.
This happens a lot: a person starts to feel a little better and decides he doesn't need treatment anymore. Granted, feeling better can be an indication that a patient's issues are resolved and that treatment can be terminated. More often than not, however, feeling better simply removes the motivation to continue treatment; as a result, problems are left unresolved only to resurface again at some point in the future.
So what does motivate a person to invest in treatment? Most people are motivated by emotional pain (sadness, grief, anger, anxiety, etc.). More accurately, people tend to be motivated by their desire to be rid of emotional pain. As long as the pain is there, they are willing to do the work of therapy. Once the pain abates a little bit, the focus of therapy often shifts from acute symptoms to trying to get to the root of the problem. This can mean working to change deeply ingrained mental and behavioral habits. It is often a lot of work and without the pain, many people lack the motivation.
Ironically, a patient's emotional pain can be helpful to the therapist as well. A person in pain is more likely to reveal his thoughts; these provide powerful clues as to what factors might be driving the patient's symptoms. I find that, in therapy, people tend to be very short-sighted. They tend to focus on their present experiences and their experiences from the recent past. It is not unusual for a patient to come to my office and say, "I've been feeling good for the past few weeks. I don't really have anything to talk about." It then falls upon me to try to help the patient recall the times in his life when he was not feeling good, to identify what these times have in common, and to explore what ultimately helped him to recover so that he can use these strategies again in the future. Typically, however, when a person feels good he does not want to think about feeling bad. He doesn't want to remember; he wants to forget.
I an not trying to glorify emotional pain. I am simply making the point that even negative emotions can be useful. How many people would work to change and improve themselves in the absence of emotional pain? Sure, there would be some; most, though, would have no motivation to do so.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Compatibility
I never really ascribed to the belief that when looking for love you will "just know" when you've found "the one." Honestly, it sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. The first (but certainly not the last) time someone told me that, I'd already be in love enough times to know that I tended to fall for the wrong kind of men. If I experienced the feeling of "just knowing" with a particular love interest, it was probably a sign that the man had commitment issues or was emotionally unavailable (and not that he was "the one").
There was no sense of instantly "knowing he was the one" when I first met my husband. To the contrary, there were a lot of reasons that, at the time, he was completely wrong for me. In the end, however, my husband and I discovered that we are, in many ways, quite compatible. His personality is vastly different from mine, although I wouldn't go so far as to say we are exact opposites. We share many of the same goals and values; we'd be decidedly incompatible if we didn't.
So what is it that makes us compatible? What makes any two people compatible, for that matter? A book called, "The Love Compatibility Book: The 12 Personality Traits that Can Lead You to Your Soulmate" by Hoffman and Weiner attempts to answer this question. (Find it on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Compatibility-Book-Personality-Soulmate/dp/1577312260). The authors suggest that there are twelve factors that determine compatibility between two people. I'm going to list them and share my thoughts but check out the book for more information.
1. Need for companionship: It helps for you and your partner to prefer about the same amount of companionship. If one of you hates being alone and wants constant companionship and the other needs a lot of alone time, this is likely to cause problems.
2. Idealism: Are you a dreamer or do you tend to be very practical? A dreamer with an extremely pragmatic partner might end up feeling like her partner is always trying to step on her dreams.
3. Emotional intensity: This is an area where the most compatible partners seem to balance one another out. It would probably create problems in a relationship for both partners to have the same level of emotional intensity -- imagine two hot heads always flying off the handle or two emotionally distant people who never share their feelings with one another. It is also probably difficult for two partners to have exact opposite amounts of emotional intensity -- imagine an emotionally intense person trying to evoke feeling from a partner who is distant and emotionally contained. As I said before, the key word when it comes to emotional intensity is balance.
4. Spontaneity: Do you like everything to be planned or do you enjoy doing things on a whim? This is another area where balance is the key.
5. Libido: How often do you feel like having sex? Differences between partners in how often they want to have sex is a VERY common problem in relationships, especially in married or co-habitating couples.
6. Nurturance: Do you like to take care of your partner or do you prefer for your partner to take care of you? Honestly, I don't think you can put this into an "either/or" category. Personally, I don't want to have to "take care" of my husband (every once in a while is ok, but not all the time); I also really don't like being "taken care of" (I can take care of myself).
7. Materialism: How much stuff do you want to have? If one partner tends to spend a lot of money on purchases that the other partner sees as wasteful it could cause problems. In my opinion, this category should be replaced with "shared financial goals" or something to that end. "Shared financial goals" seems far more relevant to compatibility than "materialism."
8. Extroversion: A person does not necessarily want a partner with the same degree of introversion or extroversion as he himself posesses. In my opinion, what is most important is that each partner allows the other to be his- or her-self.
9. Aestheticism: This refers to how much you enjoy art, music, or the beauty of nature. To me, this category seems way too specific. A more general (and, I think, relevant) category might be "shared interests." Partners should enjoy at least some of the same activities (and should pursue individual interests as well).
10. Activity level: Are you a "homebody" or do you always seem to be going somewhere or doing something? Activity level depends a lot on energy level. For example, my husband has far more energy than I do. After a few hours out and about I'm typically exhausted. My husband, on the other hand, is full of energy and ready to do something else.
11. Subjective well being: Are you an optimist or a pessimist? If you are a pessimist, are you annoyed by people who are too "peppy" or positive? If you are an optimist, do people with a negative outlook tend to bring you down? Do you want a partner that shares your outlook on life or do you want someone who can help you look at things differently?
12. Intellectualism: Do you keep up with current events? Do you read anything you can get your hands on? Do you enjoy a good conversation about public policy, world history, the state of American society (or whatever it is you happen to be interested in)? I think it is also important to consider intelligence. People tend to select partners with levels of intelligence similar to their own.
I know, I've said A LOT more than I usually do. So I'm done, for now;-)
There was no sense of instantly "knowing he was the one" when I first met my husband. To the contrary, there were a lot of reasons that, at the time, he was completely wrong for me. In the end, however, my husband and I discovered that we are, in many ways, quite compatible. His personality is vastly different from mine, although I wouldn't go so far as to say we are exact opposites. We share many of the same goals and values; we'd be decidedly incompatible if we didn't.
So what is it that makes us compatible? What makes any two people compatible, for that matter? A book called, "The Love Compatibility Book: The 12 Personality Traits that Can Lead You to Your Soulmate" by Hoffman and Weiner attempts to answer this question. (Find it on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Compatibility-Book-Personality-Soulmate/dp/1577312260). The authors suggest that there are twelve factors that determine compatibility between two people. I'm going to list them and share my thoughts but check out the book for more information.
1. Need for companionship: It helps for you and your partner to prefer about the same amount of companionship. If one of you hates being alone and wants constant companionship and the other needs a lot of alone time, this is likely to cause problems.
2. Idealism: Are you a dreamer or do you tend to be very practical? A dreamer with an extremely pragmatic partner might end up feeling like her partner is always trying to step on her dreams.
3. Emotional intensity: This is an area where the most compatible partners seem to balance one another out. It would probably create problems in a relationship for both partners to have the same level of emotional intensity -- imagine two hot heads always flying off the handle or two emotionally distant people who never share their feelings with one another. It is also probably difficult for two partners to have exact opposite amounts of emotional intensity -- imagine an emotionally intense person trying to evoke feeling from a partner who is distant and emotionally contained. As I said before, the key word when it comes to emotional intensity is balance.
4. Spontaneity: Do you like everything to be planned or do you enjoy doing things on a whim? This is another area where balance is the key.
5. Libido: How often do you feel like having sex? Differences between partners in how often they want to have sex is a VERY common problem in relationships, especially in married or co-habitating couples.
6. Nurturance: Do you like to take care of your partner or do you prefer for your partner to take care of you? Honestly, I don't think you can put this into an "either/or" category. Personally, I don't want to have to "take care" of my husband (every once in a while is ok, but not all the time); I also really don't like being "taken care of" (I can take care of myself).
7. Materialism: How much stuff do you want to have? If one partner tends to spend a lot of money on purchases that the other partner sees as wasteful it could cause problems. In my opinion, this category should be replaced with "shared financial goals" or something to that end. "Shared financial goals" seems far more relevant to compatibility than "materialism."
8. Extroversion: A person does not necessarily want a partner with the same degree of introversion or extroversion as he himself posesses. In my opinion, what is most important is that each partner allows the other to be his- or her-self.
9. Aestheticism: This refers to how much you enjoy art, music, or the beauty of nature. To me, this category seems way too specific. A more general (and, I think, relevant) category might be "shared interests." Partners should enjoy at least some of the same activities (and should pursue individual interests as well).
10. Activity level: Are you a "homebody" or do you always seem to be going somewhere or doing something? Activity level depends a lot on energy level. For example, my husband has far more energy than I do. After a few hours out and about I'm typically exhausted. My husband, on the other hand, is full of energy and ready to do something else.
11. Subjective well being: Are you an optimist or a pessimist? If you are a pessimist, are you annoyed by people who are too "peppy" or positive? If you are an optimist, do people with a negative outlook tend to bring you down? Do you want a partner that shares your outlook on life or do you want someone who can help you look at things differently?
12. Intellectualism: Do you keep up with current events? Do you read anything you can get your hands on? Do you enjoy a good conversation about public policy, world history, the state of American society (or whatever it is you happen to be interested in)? I think it is also important to consider intelligence. People tend to select partners with levels of intelligence similar to their own.
I know, I've said A LOT more than I usually do. So I'm done, for now;-)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Intuition
Intuition is a primarily unconscious process; we are not aware of it happening as it is taking place. We have accumulated a great body of knowledge from our past experiences; this knowledge is stored in our long term memory. When faced with a given situation, we subconsciously evaluate it to identify its most important elements. We compare these elements with any similar or related pieces of information stored in our long term memory reserves. Again, all of this takes place outside of our conscious awareness. What we are consciously aware of is the outcome of the intuitive process: a "gut feeling."
It is difficult, if not impossible, to rationally analyze intuition. In fact, when a person has made a choice based on intuition, he is usually not able to explain why he made that choice. Just because it is not amenable to rational analysis, however, does not mean that intuition is an irrational process. In fact, research has shown that how reliable your intuition is in a given subject area depends upon the degree of your past knowledge and experience in that area. Reliable intuition, then, is gained from experience. The more experience you have in a given area, the more you can use your intuition in related situations to guide decision making.
When I decided to write about intuition, what I really wanted to know was how a person can go about improving his or her intuition. It seems the most obvious way is through experience, which takes time. Outside of this, I was not able to find very much information about how to improve intuition. I therefore decided that I should try to generate my own suggestions for doing this.
Everyone has intuition. We differ in how readily we recognize it, how comfortable we are with it, and how confident we are of its reliability. There are definitely people who rely too heavily on their intuition; there are also people who completely ignore their "gut feelings."
It seems logical to me that the first step in developing one's intuition is to start to recognize the product of the intuitive process (i.e., a "gut feeling") whenever it occurs. Pay attention to the times when you "have a feeling" about something but can't really say why. Take notice when you have a strong negative or positive reaction to someone or something without understanding why. Make a conscious effort to attend to your initial impressions of people and places. Notice your hunches, especially those that ultimately prove to be accurate. Become familiar with the physical sensations that accompany your "gut feelings."
The next step in improving intuition would be to begin to use it as information when you are making decisions. This doesn't necessarily mean to start "following your gut" in everything you do. Rather, you should simply be aware of what your "gut" is telling you about a given situation.
When considering your "gut feeling" as information when you make decisions, it is important to be aware of your weaknesses. You need to be aware of your weaknesses so you can determine exactly how to use the information provided by you "gut feeling." Know what your weaknesses are. If you have a tendency to consistently over-react to a certain type of situation then your "gut feeling" about this type of situation is probably an over-reaction. This is important information. Recognize that your intuition is probably skewing your judgment. Either adjust your actions accordingly or seek feedback from someone you trust before deciding what to do. If you have a history of being attracted to the wrong types of friends or romantic partners then be aware of this; you might consider doing the exact opposite of what your intuition suggests in this type of situation. In short, recognize the areas in which your intuition is not likely to be reliable. That doesn't mean to ignore your "gut feeling" in these areas; you can still use it as information, even if that information is, "I should probably do the opposite of what I feel in this situation."
Also be aware of your strengths. Do not, however, be over-confident. People who are right 9 times out of 10 are still wrong 10% of the time. The more strongly you believe in the "rightness" of your decision the more resistant you will be to feedback that suggests your decision was, in fact, wrong. This makes it more difficult to identify and correct your mistakes.
What are your suggestions for improving intuition?
It is difficult, if not impossible, to rationally analyze intuition. In fact, when a person has made a choice based on intuition, he is usually not able to explain why he made that choice. Just because it is not amenable to rational analysis, however, does not mean that intuition is an irrational process. In fact, research has shown that how reliable your intuition is in a given subject area depends upon the degree of your past knowledge and experience in that area. Reliable intuition, then, is gained from experience. The more experience you have in a given area, the more you can use your intuition in related situations to guide decision making.
When I decided to write about intuition, what I really wanted to know was how a person can go about improving his or her intuition. It seems the most obvious way is through experience, which takes time. Outside of this, I was not able to find very much information about how to improve intuition. I therefore decided that I should try to generate my own suggestions for doing this.
Everyone has intuition. We differ in how readily we recognize it, how comfortable we are with it, and how confident we are of its reliability. There are definitely people who rely too heavily on their intuition; there are also people who completely ignore their "gut feelings."
It seems logical to me that the first step in developing one's intuition is to start to recognize the product of the intuitive process (i.e., a "gut feeling") whenever it occurs. Pay attention to the times when you "have a feeling" about something but can't really say why. Take notice when you have a strong negative or positive reaction to someone or something without understanding why. Make a conscious effort to attend to your initial impressions of people and places. Notice your hunches, especially those that ultimately prove to be accurate. Become familiar with the physical sensations that accompany your "gut feelings."
The next step in improving intuition would be to begin to use it as information when you are making decisions. This doesn't necessarily mean to start "following your gut" in everything you do. Rather, you should simply be aware of what your "gut" is telling you about a given situation.
When considering your "gut feeling" as information when you make decisions, it is important to be aware of your weaknesses. You need to be aware of your weaknesses so you can determine exactly how to use the information provided by you "gut feeling." Know what your weaknesses are. If you have a tendency to consistently over-react to a certain type of situation then your "gut feeling" about this type of situation is probably an over-reaction. This is important information. Recognize that your intuition is probably skewing your judgment. Either adjust your actions accordingly or seek feedback from someone you trust before deciding what to do. If you have a history of being attracted to the wrong types of friends or romantic partners then be aware of this; you might consider doing the exact opposite of what your intuition suggests in this type of situation. In short, recognize the areas in which your intuition is not likely to be reliable. That doesn't mean to ignore your "gut feeling" in these areas; you can still use it as information, even if that information is, "I should probably do the opposite of what I feel in this situation."
Also be aware of your strengths. Do not, however, be over-confident. People who are right 9 times out of 10 are still wrong 10% of the time. The more strongly you believe in the "rightness" of your decision the more resistant you will be to feedback that suggests your decision was, in fact, wrong. This makes it more difficult to identify and correct your mistakes.
What are your suggestions for improving intuition?
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Self Dialog
I admit it: I talk to myself. And quite frankly, I don't see anything wrong with it. In fact, I actually encourage my patients to talk to themselves. Honestly, I suspect most people talk to themselves anyway; some do it out loud and some do it mentally. It pretty much amounts to the same thing.
So yes, I talk to myself. Sometimes it's just mental chatter (e.g., wondering if I remembered to lock the door, asking myself what in the world the lady that just walked by was wearing; planning my weekend, remembering something that happened last month or last year, etc.). Sometimes I have full conversations with myself; sometimes, I have arguments with myself. A typical argument taking place in my mind might go as follows:
Me #1: God, you look terrible this morning. Maybe it's because you're getting old. You did just turn 30.
Me #2: You know, it really isn't very nice to say things like that to yourself. It does't make you feel any better. Besides, you look fine. And 30 isn't old.
Me #1: I'm not being mean to myself, I'm just being honest.
Me #2: No, you're not being honest. You're being judgmental and unkind.
Me #1: Well I'm sorry if you can't handle the truth. Get over it.
Me #2: I will not get over it. Why don't you get over it?
Me #3: Why don't you both get over it. This conversation is over. Now stop looking at yourself in the mirror and finish getting ready.
I sometimes share this little anecdote with my patients; it usually gets a laugh. I laugh too because, after all, it is kind of funny. But I also let them know that I'm serious; it really is okay to have these kinds of conversations with yourself.
Initially, my advice to my patients was not based upon any scientific evidence or clinical practice theory. Instead, it was based upon experience. I know from my own experience that talking to yourself -- and sometimes talking back to yourself -- can be a powerful change agent.
Recently I discovered, quite by accident, that there is actually a theory to support the knowledge that I've gained from personal experience. The theory is called dialogical self theory. This theory asserts that for each person there is not one self, but many. These separate selves communicate (or dialog) with one another to maintain psychological stability, thereby creating the illusion of a single, unified self identity. From this perspective, there is no core self in charge of integrating and making sense of all of our experiences, beliefs, emotions, and perceptions. Rather, there are multiple selves that work together to make sense of these things.
So what exactly are these separate "selves?" There are actually several opinions about this, depending on who you ask. Some dialogical self theorists conceptualize these separate "selves" as internalized representations of the important figures in our lives. These internalizations are like templates that contain the norms, values, and beliefs of our early caregivers, culture, peer group, religion, etc. Other theorists conceive of these "selves" as past, present, and future versions of our personal identities. Still others visualize these "selves" as sub-selves called "I-positions," each with a different voice representing different aspects of an individual's identity. Others see these "selves" as "sub-personalities," some of which are more conscious than others.
Despite these differing views, there is one thing that all dialogical self theorists seem to agree on: what we perceive as a core "self is really a collection of parts. These different parts communicate with one another, often through dialog (hence the name dialogical self theory). It is therefore normal and in fact necessary to engage in internal dialog in order to preserve psychological stability and to maintain a sense of individual identity.
I think intuitively we all know this. We have all, at some point, probably said, "Part of me thinks...but another part wants to..." We have no difficulty conceptualizing ourselves as being made up of different parts. So why shouldn't these parts talk to each other? It is common knowledge that communication is the key to a good relationship. In order to have a good relationship with yourself, then, it is important for all of the parts of you to communicate.
So yes, I talk to myself. Sometimes it's just mental chatter (e.g., wondering if I remembered to lock the door, asking myself what in the world the lady that just walked by was wearing; planning my weekend, remembering something that happened last month or last year, etc.). Sometimes I have full conversations with myself; sometimes, I have arguments with myself. A typical argument taking place in my mind might go as follows:
Me #1: God, you look terrible this morning. Maybe it's because you're getting old. You did just turn 30.
Me #2: You know, it really isn't very nice to say things like that to yourself. It does't make you feel any better. Besides, you look fine. And 30 isn't old.
Me #1: I'm not being mean to myself, I'm just being honest.
Me #2: No, you're not being honest. You're being judgmental and unkind.
Me #1: Well I'm sorry if you can't handle the truth. Get over it.
Me #2: I will not get over it. Why don't you get over it?
Me #3: Why don't you both get over it. This conversation is over. Now stop looking at yourself in the mirror and finish getting ready.
I sometimes share this little anecdote with my patients; it usually gets a laugh. I laugh too because, after all, it is kind of funny. But I also let them know that I'm serious; it really is okay to have these kinds of conversations with yourself.
Initially, my advice to my patients was not based upon any scientific evidence or clinical practice theory. Instead, it was based upon experience. I know from my own experience that talking to yourself -- and sometimes talking back to yourself -- can be a powerful change agent.
Recently I discovered, quite by accident, that there is actually a theory to support the knowledge that I've gained from personal experience. The theory is called dialogical self theory. This theory asserts that for each person there is not one self, but many. These separate selves communicate (or dialog) with one another to maintain psychological stability, thereby creating the illusion of a single, unified self identity. From this perspective, there is no core self in charge of integrating and making sense of all of our experiences, beliefs, emotions, and perceptions. Rather, there are multiple selves that work together to make sense of these things.
So what exactly are these separate "selves?" There are actually several opinions about this, depending on who you ask. Some dialogical self theorists conceptualize these separate "selves" as internalized representations of the important figures in our lives. These internalizations are like templates that contain the norms, values, and beliefs of our early caregivers, culture, peer group, religion, etc. Other theorists conceive of these "selves" as past, present, and future versions of our personal identities. Still others visualize these "selves" as sub-selves called "I-positions," each with a different voice representing different aspects of an individual's identity. Others see these "selves" as "sub-personalities," some of which are more conscious than others.
Despite these differing views, there is one thing that all dialogical self theorists seem to agree on: what we perceive as a core "self is really a collection of parts. These different parts communicate with one another, often through dialog (hence the name dialogical self theory). It is therefore normal and in fact necessary to engage in internal dialog in order to preserve psychological stability and to maintain a sense of individual identity.
I think intuitively we all know this. We have all, at some point, probably said, "Part of me thinks...but another part wants to..." We have no difficulty conceptualizing ourselves as being made up of different parts. So why shouldn't these parts talk to each other? It is common knowledge that communication is the key to a good relationship. In order to have a good relationship with yourself, then, it is important for all of the parts of you to communicate.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Does your name say anything about who you are?
Human language is necessary for reflecting upon and giving meaning to the world we perceive. Language enables us to identify objects that are not present, to refer to sensations that are not tangible, to recall experiences that took place in the past, and to envision a future that has not yet occurred.
Naming is one of the processes through which language assigns meaning to the world around us. Naming an object, a person, or a concept allows two people to refer to something that neither can see and yet both be able to understand what is being referenced.
When a child is born, he is given a name. To give a child a name is to endow him with a unique identity in the eyes of other people. This occurs long before the child develops any sense of personal identity. A person's name, then, begins to first impact his identity in the way others respond to it. Research has consistently demonstrated that people react emotionally to a person's name, even before ever meeting that person. The way others respond to one's name in turn affect how others react to the person himself, even if only in subtle ways. These reactions ultimately play a role in shaping the way an individual comes to think about himself (i.e., his self concept).
For example, some children have names that make them targets for ridicule by their peers. (For instance, I recall feeling particularly bad for a classmate in high school with the unfortunate name of Harry Johnson). Recent research has shown that boys with names that are traditionally associated with females do fine during early childhood but have, on average, a significantly higher rate of behavioral problems in middle school compared to their peers. College-aged women with names traditionally associated with males are statistically more likely to take classes in math and/or science than their peers with more "feminine" names (who tend to take classes in liberal arts). Other studies have shown that teachers respond differently to children with names they associate with low socioeconomic status. Specifically, they have lower expectations of these students than they do of their peers. Research has also found that adolescent boys with "unpopular" names are more likely to be involved in the juvenile justice system than their otherwise similar peers. These are just a few examples of how our names influence the way others perceive us.
So do our names define us? Well no, not exactly. There is far more to a person than his or her name. Our names do, however, play a role in how others define us and in how we come to define ourselves.
Naming is one of the processes through which language assigns meaning to the world around us. Naming an object, a person, or a concept allows two people to refer to something that neither can see and yet both be able to understand what is being referenced.
When a child is born, he is given a name. To give a child a name is to endow him with a unique identity in the eyes of other people. This occurs long before the child develops any sense of personal identity. A person's name, then, begins to first impact his identity in the way others respond to it. Research has consistently demonstrated that people react emotionally to a person's name, even before ever meeting that person. The way others respond to one's name in turn affect how others react to the person himself, even if only in subtle ways. These reactions ultimately play a role in shaping the way an individual comes to think about himself (i.e., his self concept).
For example, some children have names that make them targets for ridicule by their peers. (For instance, I recall feeling particularly bad for a classmate in high school with the unfortunate name of Harry Johnson). Recent research has shown that boys with names that are traditionally associated with females do fine during early childhood but have, on average, a significantly higher rate of behavioral problems in middle school compared to their peers. College-aged women with names traditionally associated with males are statistically more likely to take classes in math and/or science than their peers with more "feminine" names (who tend to take classes in liberal arts). Other studies have shown that teachers respond differently to children with names they associate with low socioeconomic status. Specifically, they have lower expectations of these students than they do of their peers. Research has also found that adolescent boys with "unpopular" names are more likely to be involved in the juvenile justice system than their otherwise similar peers. These are just a few examples of how our names influence the way others perceive us.
So do our names define us? Well no, not exactly. There is far more to a person than his or her name. Our names do, however, play a role in how others define us and in how we come to define ourselves.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Hedonism and Happiness
The Institute of Economic Affairs (IEA) in London recently published the results of a large scale research study on happiness. The publication, entitled "And the Pursuit of Happiness: Well Being and the Role of Government" can be downloaded from the IEA website here: http://www.iea.org.uk/publications/research/and-the-pursuit-of-happiness. (Click on the link that says "download publication for free").
The publication is divided into different sections with different authors. One particular section, written by Marc Devos, is called "The Unbearable Lightness of Happiness Policy." Devos talks about the fact that Western societies tend to promote hedonistic happiness. This is, Devos asserts, reflected in how happiness research is conducted, namely by measuring the level and frequency of positive emotions against the level and frequency of negative emotions. Efforts to increase the overall level of happiness in society focus on promoting activities that offer immediate pleasure: relaxing, watching television, going out to dinner, taking a vacation, socializing, or shopping. Devos argues that this is a very superficial approach to happiness. I agree.
A society dominated by consumption and materialism breeds desire. For most people, desire is an insatiable state. We see something we want and we buy it. Immediately, we experience positive feelings associated with our new purchase. These feelings, however, are always transient. Over time, the novelty wears off. We may still like what we purchased but it no longer generates the same degree of positive emotions it once did. Eventually, we see something else we desire and the process beings again. Desire can never be permanently satisfied. No matter what we acquire or even what we achieve, if we do it for the sake of pure personal pleasure we will eventually find ourselves wanting more.
Pursuing hedonistic happiness encourages people to seek out things that make them feel good. Success becomes measured by having the means to obtain goods and experiences that stimulate positive emotions. In Western cultures, this means that people with the most money are considered the most successful.
If hedonism leads to desire then desire, being insatiable, leads to greed. We constantly crave more, more, more in our efforts to experience positive feelings and to avoid experiencing negative ones. There is no enough; we always want more. The more we want more, the more we are willing to do anything to get it; greed flourishes.
The publication is divided into different sections with different authors. One particular section, written by Marc Devos, is called "The Unbearable Lightness of Happiness Policy." Devos talks about the fact that Western societies tend to promote hedonistic happiness. This is, Devos asserts, reflected in how happiness research is conducted, namely by measuring the level and frequency of positive emotions against the level and frequency of negative emotions. Efforts to increase the overall level of happiness in society focus on promoting activities that offer immediate pleasure: relaxing, watching television, going out to dinner, taking a vacation, socializing, or shopping. Devos argues that this is a very superficial approach to happiness. I agree.
A society dominated by consumption and materialism breeds desire. For most people, desire is an insatiable state. We see something we want and we buy it. Immediately, we experience positive feelings associated with our new purchase. These feelings, however, are always transient. Over time, the novelty wears off. We may still like what we purchased but it no longer generates the same degree of positive emotions it once did. Eventually, we see something else we desire and the process beings again. Desire can never be permanently satisfied. No matter what we acquire or even what we achieve, if we do it for the sake of pure personal pleasure we will eventually find ourselves wanting more.
Pursuing hedonistic happiness encourages people to seek out things that make them feel good. Success becomes measured by having the means to obtain goods and experiences that stimulate positive emotions. In Western cultures, this means that people with the most money are considered the most successful.
If hedonism leads to desire then desire, being insatiable, leads to greed. We constantly crave more, more, more in our efforts to experience positive feelings and to avoid experiencing negative ones. There is no enough; we always want more. The more we want more, the more we are willing to do anything to get it; greed flourishes.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The relationship between mindful participation and "flow"
Most people are probably familiar with the concept of "flow." "Flow" falls under the realm of "positive psychology" and was formulated as a psychological theory by Hungarian psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Csikszentmihalyi describes flow as a state of consciousness that occurs when a person's attention is completely absorbed by a given activity. During a state of flow, all sense of time is suspended. A person becomes fully immersed in a given experience; he is no longer conscious of himself. His actions and attention are completely in sync. In a state of flow, a person is not conscious of external distractions. Neither does he experience any internal distractions; "mental chatter" does not occur in a state of flow.
According to Csikszentmihalyi, only certain activities can stimulate flow. To enter a state of flow, a person must engage in an activity that is challenging, but within his ability. Challenging activities, Csikszentmihalyi asserts, require our attention. Simple tasks, on the other hand, are frequently performed on auto-pilot.
It seems to me that a lot of people tend to think of flow as something that just "happens" when you find the right kind of challenge. I am sure this is sometimes the case. We start doing something; we become so immersed in it that when we next look at the clock we are shocked to find that hours have passed. So to a certain extent, the experience of flow does seem to depend upon finding the right activity. It is not, however, a given that once you find the "right" activity, flow will just come naturally. There is also no guarantee that it will be easy to find the activity that compels you to fully immerse yourself in it. For these reasons, flow depends upon more than just finding the "right" challenge.
If we leave it to chance, flow is likely to be a state of mind that we achieve spontaneously, but infrequently. Flow is the type of experience that allows us to fully engage in our lives; as such, it has the potential to enrich our quality of life and to add to our sense of purpose or meaning. Why leave something like that to chance?
When I teach mindfulness to my patients, I use the model designed by Marsha Linehan, Ph.D., creator of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). The DBT manual distinguishes between mindfulness "what" and "how" skills. The three "what" skills are observing, describing, and participating. I see the skill of "participation" as the sort of culmination of mindfulness practice, i.e., as something you work towards. The more you practice observing and describing the world around you (and within you) without judgment, the better able you are to participate mindfully in whatever is happening in the present moment.
The practice of mindfulness is concerned with process, not outcome. Flow, too, is about process. Flow is achieved through mindful participation and is its own, intrinsic reward.
I will be the first to admit that I do not experience flow very often. As a very task oriented person, it is difficult for me to take time to engage in the process of doing something. Often, I am so focused on needing to get things done that the process of doing brings no satisfaction at all. Because of this, I cannot jump straight to mindful participation when I practice mindfulness. Instead, I must practice non-judgmentally observing and describing. Gradually, this will enable me to maintain contact with the present moment more and more frequently. The more I engage with the present moment, the better able I am bring mindful presence to my daily activities. Mindful presence leads to mindful participation; mindful participation leads to flow.
According to Csikszentmihalyi, only certain activities can stimulate flow. To enter a state of flow, a person must engage in an activity that is challenging, but within his ability. Challenging activities, Csikszentmihalyi asserts, require our attention. Simple tasks, on the other hand, are frequently performed on auto-pilot.
It seems to me that a lot of people tend to think of flow as something that just "happens" when you find the right kind of challenge. I am sure this is sometimes the case. We start doing something; we become so immersed in it that when we next look at the clock we are shocked to find that hours have passed. So to a certain extent, the experience of flow does seem to depend upon finding the right activity. It is not, however, a given that once you find the "right" activity, flow will just come naturally. There is also no guarantee that it will be easy to find the activity that compels you to fully immerse yourself in it. For these reasons, flow depends upon more than just finding the "right" challenge.
If we leave it to chance, flow is likely to be a state of mind that we achieve spontaneously, but infrequently. Flow is the type of experience that allows us to fully engage in our lives; as such, it has the potential to enrich our quality of life and to add to our sense of purpose or meaning. Why leave something like that to chance?
When I teach mindfulness to my patients, I use the model designed by Marsha Linehan, Ph.D., creator of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). The DBT manual distinguishes between mindfulness "what" and "how" skills. The three "what" skills are observing, describing, and participating. I see the skill of "participation" as the sort of culmination of mindfulness practice, i.e., as something you work towards. The more you practice observing and describing the world around you (and within you) without judgment, the better able you are to participate mindfully in whatever is happening in the present moment.
The practice of mindfulness is concerned with process, not outcome. Flow, too, is about process. Flow is achieved through mindful participation and is its own, intrinsic reward.
I will be the first to admit that I do not experience flow very often. As a very task oriented person, it is difficult for me to take time to engage in the process of doing something. Often, I am so focused on needing to get things done that the process of doing brings no satisfaction at all. Because of this, I cannot jump straight to mindful participation when I practice mindfulness. Instead, I must practice non-judgmentally observing and describing. Gradually, this will enable me to maintain contact with the present moment more and more frequently. The more I engage with the present moment, the better able I am bring mindful presence to my daily activities. Mindful presence leads to mindful participation; mindful participation leads to flow.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Name and identity
The degree to which a person's name is a significant part of his or her identity varies from person to person. I see it, in some ways, as a matter of attachment. If your name is integral to your conception of who you are then you are probably quite attached to it; if not, then you probably aren't.
I became interested in the role that names play in personal identity when I got married. I did not want to change my name; you see, I had grown quite attached to it. My name was comfortable and familiar. When two people used my name in a conversation they mutually understood that they were talking about me. My name connected me to my family, to my parents and to my sisters. My name was what I used to represent myself to others. It helped me to communicate who I was. Most importantly, my name was a gift, to me from my parents. My name was something special they'd given to me and no one else.
My husband had very different feelings about this. (I believe part of it is that he is Jamaican and that his is a more "traditional," less progressive culture). He was deeply hurt when I told him I didn't want to change my name. He told me it felt like I was rejecting him (an indicator that he, like me, sees a strong connection between his name and his identity).
After numerous discussions (disagreements), some tears (on my part), and a lot of introspection, I finally decided to make the change. My husband made a good point, namely that sharing the same last name was a symbol of our new family, the one we created when we got married.
So when I started looking into names, I wanted to know if other people are as attached to theirs as I was to mine. I wanted to know more about the relationship between name and identity. I sifted through a lot of philosophical opinions on the subject but they really didn't answer my question. (It seems like whenever I think I've chosen an easy topic to write about it turns out to be more convoluted than I ever imagined). Finally, though, I stumbled upon some articles that really addressed my concerns. The most interesting of these was by Laura Heymann, a professor at the College of William and Mary Law School. As opposed to being central to our identity, Heymann asserts a name is like a personal trademark. If a name were synonymous with identity, she argues, then the common practice of changing one's name would be viewed as committing fraud. Or a company, she says, that tried to modernize its logo would be accused of trying to deceive the public. (Notwithstanding the public outcry that occurred when the Gap tried to change its logo about a year ago).
This makes a lot of sense to me: changing my name didn't change who I am. Rather, I'm like Starbucks when it removed the words "Starbucks Coffee" from its logo last January. Like the Starbucks logo, my name change was merely an "update," a reflection of the changing times (i.e., me getting married).
Still, the connection between name and identity is not resolved for me. I'll stop -- for now -- but I am almost certain to revisit the issue. Another facet of the name-identity issue that interests me is the process of naming a child.
For now though, I'd be happy to hear what other people think about this. Are you attached to your name? Have you, for whatever reason, ever changed your name? If so, was it an easy decision for you?
I became interested in the role that names play in personal identity when I got married. I did not want to change my name; you see, I had grown quite attached to it. My name was comfortable and familiar. When two people used my name in a conversation they mutually understood that they were talking about me. My name connected me to my family, to my parents and to my sisters. My name was what I used to represent myself to others. It helped me to communicate who I was. Most importantly, my name was a gift, to me from my parents. My name was something special they'd given to me and no one else.
My husband had very different feelings about this. (I believe part of it is that he is Jamaican and that his is a more "traditional," less progressive culture). He was deeply hurt when I told him I didn't want to change my name. He told me it felt like I was rejecting him (an indicator that he, like me, sees a strong connection between his name and his identity).
After numerous discussions (disagreements), some tears (on my part), and a lot of introspection, I finally decided to make the change. My husband made a good point, namely that sharing the same last name was a symbol of our new family, the one we created when we got married.
So when I started looking into names, I wanted to know if other people are as attached to theirs as I was to mine. I wanted to know more about the relationship between name and identity. I sifted through a lot of philosophical opinions on the subject but they really didn't answer my question. (It seems like whenever I think I've chosen an easy topic to write about it turns out to be more convoluted than I ever imagined). Finally, though, I stumbled upon some articles that really addressed my concerns. The most interesting of these was by Laura Heymann, a professor at the College of William and Mary Law School. As opposed to being central to our identity, Heymann asserts a name is like a personal trademark. If a name were synonymous with identity, she argues, then the common practice of changing one's name would be viewed as committing fraud. Or a company, she says, that tried to modernize its logo would be accused of trying to deceive the public. (Notwithstanding the public outcry that occurred when the Gap tried to change its logo about a year ago).
This makes a lot of sense to me: changing my name didn't change who I am. Rather, I'm like Starbucks when it removed the words "Starbucks Coffee" from its logo last January. Like the Starbucks logo, my name change was merely an "update," a reflection of the changing times (i.e., me getting married).
Still, the connection between name and identity is not resolved for me. I'll stop -- for now -- but I am almost certain to revisit the issue. Another facet of the name-identity issue that interests me is the process of naming a child.
For now though, I'd be happy to hear what other people think about this. Are you attached to your name? Have you, for whatever reason, ever changed your name? If so, was it an easy decision for you?
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Technology and Mindfulness
Recently, I've read several articles about how technology and social networking are causing us to be less present in our daily lives. These articles were all from relatively mainstream news sources, which kind of surprised me. (You don't typically read a lot about present moment awareness in the news). One of the articles was by the granddaughter of Emily Post, aka "Miss Manners." The article talked about the etiquette of picture taking in the digital age. She advises putting the camera (or phone) away if we find that our picture taking is preventing us from fully participating in whatever is going on around us. Yes, she says, it is nice to have a million pictures of your sister's baby shower. However, your sister would also like you to really be there to share the special occasion with her. A shared smile between you or an assuring shoulder squeeze could end up being more memorable and meaningful than a photograph.
Another article talked about how Facebook is "making us miserable." The author explained how the ways we use Facebook can create a lot of unhappiness. One of the things the article mentioned was that people no longer just use Facebook on their home computers. Now, we use Facebook at work and on our smart phones and Blackberries. No matter where we are or what we are doing, we can always jump on Facebook to update our status (and to check on our friends' statuses). But what if status-checking your Facebook friends interferes with your ability to fully connect with the real-world friend sitting right next to you? Are we so busy playing on Facebook that we miss out on what's going on around us right now? The article's author interviewed several people for his story. One person admitted that she was almost hit by a car while crossing the street because she was using Facebook on her phone and wasn't paying attention. (I like that anecdote. It shows that not attending to the present moment has real -- and potentially fatal -- consequences).
When I did a Google search of the terms "mindfulness" and "social media," I discovered that there are two contrasting approaches to the issue. A few of the search results seemed to promote "unplugging" from our cell phones and the internet periodically to get in touch with the present moment; these results were, however, in the minority. By far, the majority of hits I got from my search talked about the mindful use of social media; they also talked about using social media (and other technology) to promote mindfulness. Some of the headings included, "10 mindful way to use social media" and "Mindfulness based social media." One title asked, "Can mindfulness be tweeted?" I concluded that most people have embraced technology as a means to facilitate and to promote the use of mindfulness. Those that warn of technology interfering with mindfulness seem to be in the minority.
In my opinion, people who are motivated to enrich their lives by being conscious of their internal and external environments will find a number of ways to support their efforts, to include online sources and social media. Those who have no desire to seek spiritual and psychological growth will approach technology the same way they approach everything else in life: without mindfulness. Which side of the debate do you support? Does technology help or hinder our efforts to be more present in our daily lives?
Another article talked about how Facebook is "making us miserable." The author explained how the ways we use Facebook can create a lot of unhappiness. One of the things the article mentioned was that people no longer just use Facebook on their home computers. Now, we use Facebook at work and on our smart phones and Blackberries. No matter where we are or what we are doing, we can always jump on Facebook to update our status (and to check on our friends' statuses). But what if status-checking your Facebook friends interferes with your ability to fully connect with the real-world friend sitting right next to you? Are we so busy playing on Facebook that we miss out on what's going on around us right now? The article's author interviewed several people for his story. One person admitted that she was almost hit by a car while crossing the street because she was using Facebook on her phone and wasn't paying attention. (I like that anecdote. It shows that not attending to the present moment has real -- and potentially fatal -- consequences).
When I did a Google search of the terms "mindfulness" and "social media," I discovered that there are two contrasting approaches to the issue. A few of the search results seemed to promote "unplugging" from our cell phones and the internet periodically to get in touch with the present moment; these results were, however, in the minority. By far, the majority of hits I got from my search talked about the mindful use of social media; they also talked about using social media (and other technology) to promote mindfulness. Some of the headings included, "10 mindful way to use social media" and "Mindfulness based social media." One title asked, "Can mindfulness be tweeted?" I concluded that most people have embraced technology as a means to facilitate and to promote the use of mindfulness. Those that warn of technology interfering with mindfulness seem to be in the minority.
In my opinion, people who are motivated to enrich their lives by being conscious of their internal and external environments will find a number of ways to support their efforts, to include online sources and social media. Those who have no desire to seek spiritual and psychological growth will approach technology the same way they approach everything else in life: without mindfulness. Which side of the debate do you support? Does technology help or hinder our efforts to be more present in our daily lives?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Beginner's mind
"Nothing will ever be as exciting as it was when we were children." That's what I was thinking the day after Christmas as I sat down to reflect on the excitement of the previous two days. Christmas was a whirlwind of torn wrapping paper and the ecstatic squeals of children as they opened their presents. On Christmas Eve, my stepdaughter was so fraught with anticipation that she could hardly sleep. One of my nieces greeted me at the door when I arrived at my parents' house on Christmas morning. "Come see my new doll!" she exclaimed, barely stopping before taking off in the opposite direction to lead me to see her new doll. The unbridled joy of my nieces and stepdaughter made me smile again and again. It also made me feel a bit envious. As I reflected on this the next day, I concluded that nothing is ever as exciting to me as it was when I was a child. But why?
Most of the world's major religious and spiritual traditions talk about approaching life with a childlike mind. It must be the childlike mind that enables the kind of enthusiasm and exhilaration I saw in my nieces and stepdaughter on Christmas. What is it we possess as children that makes this kind of vitality possible? When do we lose it? And why?
After thinking about it, I realized that it is not what a child has but what she does not have that allows her to fully immerse herself in a pleasant experience. As we grow, we develop mental filters that help us to better understand the world we live in but that also inhibit us from fully engaging with the present moment. Included in these mental filters are social and cultural rules about what people should and should not do and what behavior is and is not acceptable. Our sense of self and our habitual patterns of thinking and behaving are also mental filters. Our personal values are mental filters. Even our memories of past experiences serve as mental filters, in that they influence how we perceive and interpret similar experiences in the future. Most importantly, our beliefs are mental filters; this includes beliefs about ourselves, about other people, and about the world.
Mental filters explain why one person reacts positively to a given event while another person has a negative reaction. The events are the same; the interpretations and perceptions are different.
The creation of mental filters, I believe, is an inevitable part of human development. Mental filters serve an essential function in helping us make sense of the world we live in. Without them, we would probably be inundated with information and stimuli from our environment with no way to decide what is important and what isn't. We would quickly become overwhelmed. Still, it is always useful to be aware that we experience the world through our filters and that our perceptions are not necessarily accurate reflections of reality.
How does this relate to having a childlike mind? If we are able to recognize and identify our mental filters, we can begin to look beyond them for brief periods of time. We can be conscious, for example, of our belief that, "Christmas is for the kids." We can then take the time to turn our attention inward, to focus on the sensations that accompany the emotions we are experiencing. We can intentionally observe certain aspects of our environment, mentally describing, for example, the sounds we hear or the smells of Christmas brunch. We do this without judgment. These brief efforts enable us to make complete contact with the present moment without interference from our mental filters. These efforts will allow us to notice and accept the feelings that arise; because we attend to the sensations associated with these feelings, we can briefly bypass the mental filters that might otherwise change our emotions. Small steps like these, repeated over time, will gradually help us to more frequently adopt a childlike mind.
Most of the world's major religious and spiritual traditions talk about approaching life with a childlike mind. It must be the childlike mind that enables the kind of enthusiasm and exhilaration I saw in my nieces and stepdaughter on Christmas. What is it we possess as children that makes this kind of vitality possible? When do we lose it? And why?
After thinking about it, I realized that it is not what a child has but what she does not have that allows her to fully immerse herself in a pleasant experience. As we grow, we develop mental filters that help us to better understand the world we live in but that also inhibit us from fully engaging with the present moment. Included in these mental filters are social and cultural rules about what people should and should not do and what behavior is and is not acceptable. Our sense of self and our habitual patterns of thinking and behaving are also mental filters. Our personal values are mental filters. Even our memories of past experiences serve as mental filters, in that they influence how we perceive and interpret similar experiences in the future. Most importantly, our beliefs are mental filters; this includes beliefs about ourselves, about other people, and about the world.
Mental filters explain why one person reacts positively to a given event while another person has a negative reaction. The events are the same; the interpretations and perceptions are different.
The creation of mental filters, I believe, is an inevitable part of human development. Mental filters serve an essential function in helping us make sense of the world we live in. Without them, we would probably be inundated with information and stimuli from our environment with no way to decide what is important and what isn't. We would quickly become overwhelmed. Still, it is always useful to be aware that we experience the world through our filters and that our perceptions are not necessarily accurate reflections of reality.
How does this relate to having a childlike mind? If we are able to recognize and identify our mental filters, we can begin to look beyond them for brief periods of time. We can be conscious, for example, of our belief that, "Christmas is for the kids." We can then take the time to turn our attention inward, to focus on the sensations that accompany the emotions we are experiencing. We can intentionally observe certain aspects of our environment, mentally describing, for example, the sounds we hear or the smells of Christmas brunch. We do this without judgment. These brief efforts enable us to make complete contact with the present moment without interference from our mental filters. These efforts will allow us to notice and accept the feelings that arise; because we attend to the sensations associated with these feelings, we can briefly bypass the mental filters that might otherwise change our emotions. Small steps like these, repeated over time, will gradually help us to more frequently adopt a childlike mind.
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