detachment Archives - Adulting: Second- Half

Quit Time

I just read an article about “emotional quitting.” This is usually the major predecessor to any kind of official quitting, whether it be a job, or a relationship, or a hobby, a project, a life direction, a religion, etc. “Emotional quitting” looks like just “going through the motions”, but not really investing any energy, or plans towards something going forward. Emotional quitting means you have lost interest and desire for something or for someone who used to excite you and used to help you to grow and blossom. Sometimes when you emotionally quit an experience, you just can’t find the fire to ignite your passion again, even if you are desperately trying to do so. You feel detached and indifferent.

Emotionally quitting is usually a long, slow process. It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s just little chips which are chiseled away without anything else put in place to replenish the energy stream towards it. Emotionally quitting something is rarely a rash, overnight, dramatic decision. It happens so slowly that we often don’t realize that we have been in the process of quitting, until we are already there. Most experiences that we “officially” quit have long, long been quit emotionally by us, before we have the courage to make it “official.” Emotional quitting is often a quiet process, versus a loud, dramatic bang.

Today’s world puts a big emphasis on the need to be conscious and self-aware, in order to stay mentally and emotionally healthy in a quickly-changing world. This is vitally important in a time where life is changing so rapidly with technology innovations, and a myriad of opportunities that our ancestors simply did not have, to contemplate and to experience. There has never been a more important time in history, to emphasize the need to take a pause, and to reflect on where we are going, and where we want to end up. So, in this light, take the time to contemplate any “emotional quitting” that is occuring in your own life. What has grown stale in your life? Which of these areas are worth revitalizing, and how would you take steps to do this? Has it come time to face that it might be time to “officially” quit something that you have emotionally abandoned a long time ago? What are your beliefs about “quitting” and are these beliefs helpful or hindering to you? What are your true values and priorities, and are you actually living them? What is holding you back? What are your fears and reservations? How long has your “emotional quitting” been happening? What is capturing your energy and vitality instead? Where are you feeling indifferent? If you feel listless and indifferent, all the way around, could this point to a physical/mental condition that should be addressed?

This is a tough read, I know. We don’t want to face change in our lives, even though we all know that “change is the only constant.” We often emotionally quit things to make it easier to finally cut the final tie, and “officially” quit. Our emotions are our built in navigation system. Strong emotions point us to what is important to us. The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is “indifference.” Get real with yourself about which parts of your life you are emotionally withdrawing from, and decide what you want to do about it. You deserve an intentionally full and vital life.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

1457. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things?

A Little Dab of Stoicism

” . . . serenity and stability are results of your choices and judgment, not your environment. If you seek to avoid all disruptions to tranquility – other people, external events, stress – you will never be successful. Your problems will follow you wherever you run and hide. But if you seek to avoid the harmful and disruptive judgments that cause those problems, then you will be stable and steady wherever you happen to be.” – (idea attributed to the philosopher Epictetus, from the book, The Daily Stoic)

The dictionary defines a stoic as this: “a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.” Pictures of the Star Trek character Spock pop up when you look up the word “stoic.”

No one would ever accuse me of being a stoic. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. That’s what attracted me to learn more about the philosophy of stoicism. Opposites attract.

The Daily Stoic is a book of 366 short daily meditations that so far seems to me, to be repeating and ingraining the idea of “the circle of control”. See below (credit: Clair Newton):

We’ve all seen the circle of control. I’ve shared it before on the blog. Basically the circle of control shows that only what is in the center of the circle, is what you have full control over in this present moment. In the blue ring, you may have some influence, but you do have full control and in the outside circle, you have virtually almost no control, even though these things are a part of your everyday life. A true stoic stays in the center of the circle of control, and accepts all that is outside of the center, unemotionally and detachedly.

I’m early into my studies of stoicism, but what I am learning so far, is that stoics aren’t necessarily emotionless, it’s just that their tranquility does not depend on what is happening outside of them. They make it a habit to be tranquil, for tranquility’s sake, and they find this inner peacefulness through a daily focus on a “code of honor” (credit Donald J. Robertson):

The Stoic Virtues and Code of Honor

Love the truth and seek wisdom.
Act with justice, fairness, and kindness toward others.
Master your fears and be courageous.
Master your desires and live with self-discipline.

Interestingly, while I have a hard time relating to Spock, Andy Dufresne from the classic film, The Shawshank Redemption is also listed as a stoic. Even though Andy was wrongfully charged for murder and sentenced to a lifetime of prison, he heroically makes the most of his situation and in the end of the film, we witness his redemption. Andy wasn’t emotionless, but Andy didn’t let his emotions rule him. The level of emotional self-control which he had, meant that others couldn’t take him down, by using the weapon of his own emotions against him.

As a writer and a creative, I’m in love with emotion. I’m in love with passion and heart and energetic, emotional movement of the inner soul. However, I am learning that stoicism may be confused with the idea of lack of emotion, where instead, stoicism is the harnessing of emotion to make it work for you. Stoicism understands emotion, and therefore keeps it in its rightful perspective. The three most celebrated founders of Stoicism are Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca. Here are some thoughts attributed to these philosophers:

Marcus Aurelius:

“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”

“Don’t go on discussing what a good person should be. Just be one.”

Epictetus:

“Any person capable of angering you becomes your master; he can anger you only when you permit yourself to be disturbed by him.”

“He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at.”

Seneca:

“We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”

“It’s not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It’s because we dare not venture that they are difficult.”

Are you finding that you may be more stoic than you ever imagined yourself to be? I am, too.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Don’t Care

“We’ve been suckered into thinking we must have an opinion on everything. There’s just so much I don’t care about.” – Annie Hatfield, Twitter, @HatfieldAnne

I read this yesterday and it resonated completely with me. My opinion is that this tweet is so good, that I had to stop, drop and roll to one of my sacred notebooks and jot this keen insight down immediately.

In today’s world, it’s awfully hard to admit that “you just don’t care” about many things, isn’t it? But I wasn’t the only one who related to this tweet. So far, it has gotten almost 2500 likes in less than 24 hours. Perhaps we will all be cancelled, or labelled “stupid” or “callous” or “blasé” or “ignorant.”

When I do care about something, I care deeply and passionately and fervently. When I do care about someone or something, there will be no questioning it. You will know. I’m full of fire. If I put that kind of care and energy into everything, I would have burned myself out long ago.

When I was a teenager, my father told me that if I was going to take a stand on something, I had better make sure that it is something that I believe in and care about with every fiber of my being. And then he said to make sure that I learn everything that I can about whatever hill I am standing on, including all the insights and counter-insights to my beliefs about said subject.

I believe that my father was correct, and so to have a strong opinion on something, takes a lot of work, a great deal of personal insight and self-awareness, plenty of research and a big dollop of empathy. And it takes the ability to be open-minded enough to have your opinion changed, if growth and knowledge occurs over time and experience. In short, strong opinions require strength, passion, wisdom and humility.

I have always believed that “variety is the spice of life.” I am grateful that there are people who care passionately about subjects that I don’t care about. I am thrilled that there are tribes of people for every phenomenon on this earth, so that people can commune with others and share a common love and vision and passion together. This is what makes the world such an interesting place where we can all pick and choose as to what to dabble in, and what to care about, and what to create strong opinions about. If we all do our parts to resolutely care about at least a couple of things that matter to us, we’ve got enough hands on deck to make sure that all of our bases are covered.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Ruminating

“The wise do not attach themselves to the ups and downs of life, but stay above them.” – Rumi

I recently read an excellent book that came to me, at just the right time. As an avid reader and a dedicated over-thinker, I believe sincerely that this is how our book connections happen. It so happens that the president’s daughter recently quoted a poem by Rumi, the ancient poet and philosopher, which reminded me that I had purchased a book about Rumi’s writings earlier this year. So, I looked for it and I read it over the past weekend. The book is called Rumi: Tales of the Spirit – A Journey to Healing the Heart, by Kamla K. Kapur. It turns out that even though Rumi is often known for his poetry, he was also an ardent story teller. In this book, Kapur translates twelve of Rumi’s stories which read more like parables or even sophisticated fairy tales, and then she explains the deeper depth of meaning, that she believes that Rumi is trying to convey. It is one of those books that you think about long after you have read it. It is a book that you keep for later reflection. It is one of those books that will find you, again.

The parables of Rumi that struck me the most were the ones talking about our need to let go of attachments. When your children start leaving the nest at a clip pace, and you have reached middle age with an acute sense that everything in your physical world is aging along with you (your things, your relations, your body), it becomes painfully clear of all of the strings that need to be cut. Just how attached am I to my children and the futures that I envision for my children, and the beliefs and mannerisms and ideas that I think they should have, to match my narrow vision? Just how attached am I to my main identity that I have taken on as my children’s mother and caretaker? Just how attached am I to all of the physical things that we have accumulated along the way to support our family and the life of our family unit? ( You may recall that I recently blogged about, while sobbing, just how hard it was to sell a family car that long had been part of our family history.) Just how attached am I to the relationships that I formed to teachers and coaches and friends, because of the connection to my children and their activities? Just how attached am I to my fading youth, and the vitality and beauty that flows away and starts to just trickle, as I age? Just how attached am I to the way things were, when the focus of our lives was this budding, growing family? Just how attached am I to all of the ups and downs, the exciting roller coaster of feelings that raising a family inevitably brings with it?

In the book, Kapur describes attachment this way:

“Attachment is something or someone we grasp desperately for our own survival; something or someone we think belongs to us instead of the Power that made it. . . . .Attachment to our opinions, prejudices, judgments and beliefs also imprison us.”

Recently my husband and I attended a dinner party at the home of a very wealthy man. He had vast collections of everything you could imagine. He had several gorgeous antique cars (and another warehouse somewhere else, apparently, full of more of them), beautiful paintings everywhere, rare hood ornaments, a brown liquor collection, a wine collection, a cigar collection, several antique sculptures, and he had so many Persian rugs, that they even surrounded his large, indoor pool. Many of us party goers asked him fascinated questions about his many beautiful objects. We asked him if it made him nervous, having everyone milling around and touching his things.

He looked at us incredulously. “No, I love to be able to share what I have found joy in,” he said.

We asked him if he rolled up the antique Persian rugs when his grandchildren came over to swim.

“No! I like the rugs to keep their feet comfortable,” he said, earnestly.

When we asked him what his favorite thing was, out of all his vast collections, he answered, without missing a beat,

“My marriage,” he said with a sweet smile.

Rumi says that detachment is not saying that you should own nothing. It is saying that nothing should own you. This man, who hosted the party, was a testament to this wisdom that Rumi extols.

The author includes one of her favorite Aboriginal proverbs, in the chapter on detachment. I’ll end this post with it:

We are all just visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. We are here to observe, to learn, to grow, to love and then to return home.

(For more reading on detachment, I also highly recommend Karen Casey’s Let Go Now – Embracing Detachment)