Musings

One of my sources of self-doubt involves assumptions. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and say that all of my sources of self-doubt involve assumptions to some degree. That’s because self-doubt is often associated with how we believe we are perceived by others rather than on actual information about how others perceive us. Most of the time, I can’t actually know what a person thinks about me or how they view me without them telling me outright (and even that can be unreliable), so all I really have to go on are my interpretations of things that happen and how others treat me. That’s an imperfect way to model the world around me, but it’s all I’ve got. It’s all any of us really have.

Rather than make assumptions about what others think, it’s likely healthier and more productive to work with the things I can know like how I feel about myself and my work, the results of my work in the world around me, and the impact I perceive my actions as having on those around me. I can also ask other people for their input. That’s a much better option than making up stories about what they think because those stories are often just reflections of the tapes already playing in my mind. As a result, the stories I make up about others are probably just reflections of my own inner dialogue, so it’s really not about the other person at all! It’s all about me and my own self-assessment.

While that could be confusing, it should be reassuring. Learning to focus on what goes on in our own minds and in our own hearts can help drown out invalidating stories about other people, their feelings, and the operation of their minds. Getting to know other people is important, and learning to give and receive feedback is vital if we want to adopt a mindset that allows us to continuously get better.  I know that, in my life, I am most productive and have the greatest impact when I focus on understanding the processes of my mind and my heart. What I think and what I feel are within my span of control and focusing on changing them, when needed, will yield far greater results than seeking to change what other people think. In addition, what others observe me do and the improvements they see making in my own life can serve to influence. Influence is how we make our way into the hearts and minds of others.

Homeostasis keeps us alive. It is the tendency for balance within systems, especially within the bodies of living organisms. Body temperature in mammals, for example, is regulated internally. A mammal works hard at maintaining a consistent internal temperature. In a human being, that temperature is approximately 98 degrees, give or take a degree of variance. Our bodies burn fuel in an effort to keep it within a certain range. When it’s cold, we shiver to burn more fuel and generate heat. When it’s hot, we sweat to give our bodies a layer of moisture that helps radiate heat through our skin. Shiver. Sweat. Shiver again. It’s all designed to keep that temperature stable.

There are countless systems and interactions going on within our bodies aimed at maintaining an overall, homeostatic state. Homeostasis also applies to systems outside of our bodies. Ecological systems can be said to be in homeostasis when the environment provides the organisms living within it everything they need to maintain stable populations. The ratio of predator to prey contributes to the homeostatic state of the ecological system, too. Too many of either can have a devastating effect, overall, sending the entire system into chaos. Pollution, rainfall, rate of growth, and rate of decay are other variables that affect these ecological systems. Balance between them all is essential.

Homeostasis, then, is a very good thing.

Until it’s not.

Homeostasis becomes an issue when it is applied to the inner workings of the human mind. Homeostasis is good for the biology stuff, for sure. It’s when the cognitive stuff kicks in that homeostasis can be troublesome. When we experience extremes in life, the tendency is to have extreme reactions to the experience. These reactions are both cognitive and emotional. I differentiate the two as process of mind (cognitive or what you think) and process of heart (emotional or what you feel). Regardless of terminology, they are extreme cognitive and emotional reactions to extreme stimuli. These stimuli elicit thoughts and feelings that fall outside our normal range.

If we won the lottery, we’d feel euphoric. If we lost a limb, we’d feel destitute. The influx of money would likely lead to weeks and months of “floating on cloud nine,” while the loss of function would likely lead to weeks and months of struggle and depression. However, what research has found is that people who experience such extremes tend to revert, over time, to a set-point, a level of cognitive and emotional being that is characteristic of the individual. In other words, once they get past the extreme reaction to the extreme event, they go back to equilibrium. It’s almost as if a sort of balance exists for our thoughts and feelings. There are peaks and valleys, but the inclination is to get back to “normal.” That’s homeostasis.

The problem is that homeostasis becomes a barrier to happiness and overall well-being when we look to change, to move outside our range of normal. As we attempt to change, something pulls us back to our old patterns, habits, and ways of being. Our bodies don’t like extremes, and our minds don’t like extremes, either. But extremes are what are required to move outside of comfort zones and effect real change.

As the calendar year winds down, our thoughts and feelings will likely move to extremes, potentially motivating us and hardening our resolve to do things differently in our lives. When the new year arrives, the bias will be towards action. The bias generally does not last long. Whether or not action actually yields results depends on the ability of the individual to overcome homeostasis. Knowing that, we can plan in advance and develop interventions to keep us from regressing to the mean.

I took my wife and two sons to a corn maze this weekend.  If you live in the Midwest, it’s a thing.  We do it every year.  We wander through the maze, collecting “punches” on our map along the way.  It’s not enough to just discover the maze; there’s a higher goal of finding each of the stations with a specifically-shaped hole punch along the way.  Where we go, there are three levels of difficulty.  This year, we chose the most difficult path.  On this path, the locations of the stations are not marked, so gathering each hole punch is a true challenge.  Corn stalks are tall.  At 6’2’’, I feel like a shorty next to the rows and rows of corn stalks.  This year was the first year we braved the “expert” path.

Over the years, I’ve tried to teach my boys how to use a map to navigate the maze.  Corn maze maps are not like conventional road maps.  Intersections aren’t clearly marked.  Milestones (stations) and landmarks (bridges and climbing platforms) are represented at their approximate locations on the map.  The paths themselves are kinda-sorta like the picture on the map; what was designed on paper does not translate 100% to the actual paths cut through the rows of corn.  In many ways, learning to navigate a corn maze is a lot like learning to accomplish goals in life: what we have is a direction, not necessarily infallible directions.

A couple of hours before we left for the corn maze, my 17-year-old son clicked the virtual “submit” button on his very first college application.  There are several more to complete, but the first one is done.  It was a major milestone in his life.  Through much of the process of completing the application and writing the necessary essays to go with it, he has relied on several people to act as guides, to help and nudge and offer advice.  In the end, though, he has lead us in the direction of his goal.  No directions from us, just direction from him.  Getting to the first milestone, that first submitted application, was a major moment in his life.

A few hours later, for the first time ever, he took the map in his hands, and lead my wife, my youngest, and me through the corn maze.  It wasn’t our smoothest excursion to date, but it was another major moment in his life…and in mine.

Nothing subtle here: my oldest son is taking the reins.  He is assuming the leadership role in his life.  It’s amazing to witness, and I could not be more proud of him.  I’ve written about my boys and my family many times in the past.  Being a parent has taught me more lessons about myself and my life than just about anything else I can think of.  Once again, one of my sons provided opportunity for me to pause and reflect.  Life piles on experiences, often in clusters seemingly designed for teaching.  I don’t know how or why things work this way.  Perhaps it is as much a function of my expectations and interpretation.  Perhaps there is something bigger at work.

Either way, this weekend, between a college application and a corn maze, I was reminded of the importance of not relying on maps provided by others and of assuming the leadership role in your life.

We wind up where we choose to go.

 

When I was a wee lad, doing something “on purpose” usually implied that I’d gotten myself into trouble and my assertion that “it was an accident” was being called into question.  Doing something on purpose was, more often than not, a path towards unpleasant repercussions.

Naturally, I did less “on purpose” and learned to let the flow of the current take me.

Thanks to the guidance of influential adults like my parents, a few great teachers, and a mentor, I came to understand that the world was filled with choices and that I had to make them.  Simply allowing things to happen…that wasn’t going to cut it.

During my junior or senior year in high school, one of the electives I took was “Library Sciences.”  Yes, 17-year-old me was hanging out with the librarian at my school, learning the Dewey Decimal System inside and out, keeping the card catalog updated, and returning books to the shelves.

Did you catch that part about the card catalog?  I’m talking Old School card catalog, too.  Rows of wooden drawers that were filled with actual index cards upon which were printed all the relevant bits of information regarding each of the books in the library.  A card for every single, dingle book.  And when I say “printed,” I really mean typed, as in “letter, numbers, and words put on paper by a human being using a typewriter with great speed and efficiency, but not so fast as to jam the keys.”  Where my typists at?  Woot-woot!

During one of my excursions with the book cart to put books back on shelves, I stumbled across the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu.  Instantly attracted and intrigued, I checked the book out and plunged in.  To make a long story short, I wound up asking for my own copy for my birthday.  I still have the copy I received and refer to it often.

Regarding choices, I learned this from Lao Tzu: non-action is action, so not deciding is, in fact, a decision.  We tend to omit non-action when articulating the options before us.  However, choosing to do nothing does not absolve one of the outcomes.  This was a profound lesson for me, one that I’ve never forgotten.  It’s a guiding principle today as surely as it was the day I realized its significance.

Going with the flow, then, is as much a choice as standing firm in the middle of the river, fighting the current threatening to pull me down and take me away.  Choosing either path is, in fact, done on purpose.  Now, whether one path is more purposeful than the other is another thing altogether…

A few years ago, I read the book The On-Purpose Person by Kevin McCarthy, and I thought again about the lesson of non-action and action.  In the book, Kevin offers a methodology for prioritizing how we spend our time, talent, and resources to help us stay focused on purpose.  Choice is central to Kevin’s method.  At every step, the reader must choose how to spend their time and talent.

Learn a new coding language or binge on Stranger Things: action or non-action.  Both are actions, both choices.  Both are done deliberately, on purpose.  And both can be precisely on purpose, aligned with who we want to be and where we need to be at a given moment in time.

Choose.  Choose wisely.  Choose with your purpose in mind.  Then, embrace the outcomes.  I believe it’s that simple.  At home and at work, we get to choose.  No more “accidents.”  Leave those up to Mayhem.  You…you get to choose.

Choose to love your purpose and pursue it relentlessly.

You learn a lot about what people really think about you when the stuff hits the fan in their lives.  What they look to you to provide to them when times are tough provides clue to what they really think about you.  Can you discern what matters most to them: the relationship or the transactional value you provide?  Do they turn to you for support, advice, guidance, or a long, warm hug?  Or do they turn to you for a business lead, a loan, or backup in a confrontation?  There is plenty to learn in how others treat you.  Sounds like common sense, but emotion often keeps us from seeing the truth.

Don’t judge the answers to these questions, and don’t judge the person.  Just use those moments to help you better comprehend where you fit into their world view.  With eyes more widely-opened, you can mold the relationship to either meet their expectations or yours.  Chances are, making it fit your expectations will take more energy and work, focused intentionally on the outcomes you want.  Just remember that your intention doesn’t guarantee success.  Or happiness.

 

I often wonder why we are so quick to judge one another.  What’s more perplexing is what I perceive to be a lack of consistency when it comes to judgment within my own mind.  There are times when I can listen to stories that, upon reflection, should have elicited snap judgment on my part.  There are other times when something flares up inside of me, and I honestly don’t understand why.  I see similar patterns in other people.  Have you ever listened to a close friend or family member rant or vent about something and not understood why the object of their story hit the nerve that it did?  Have you ever seen eye-to-eye with someone on one topic but totally been light years apart on others and not understood how or why?  This simple exercise in reflection should be something of an indicator that judgment is a very personal experience.  I also think it’s an indicator that there are few, if any, absolutes.

In judging others, I think we have opportunity to evaluate and judge our own values and beliefs.  Judgment is as much about our complete confidence in our rightness as it is our complete lack of confidence in our own beliefs.  More importantly, I think the moments when we feel the strongest urge to judge might be reflections of the myriad moments of doubt or the many instances when our actions were incongruent with our stated beliefs.  Perhaps we are too quick to find fault in others to help elevate our self-perceptions, too quick to express judgment out loud to assuage the guilt and pain we whisper inside.  In judging others, I believe we both judge and punish ourselves.  Pushing down another to raise ourselves never, ever feels truly good inside.  There is no spiritual nourishment from spiritual degradation of a fellow human being.

At this moment in time, in the United States of America, there is a whole lot of judging going on.  It would be far more useful if we held our tongues, reflected on the origin of our judgment of others, and engaged in some constructive conversations about how to heal the injuries on both sides of the growing divide.