In the coming days, der blaue Berg (The Blue Mountain) will celebrate its first New Years', and I must admit it's been quite a year. New Years' is often a time for looking back; to consider the road on which we've all traveled to get to our present place. I've noticed that in the blogging world, this is sometimes done by highlighting a few of a blog's best posts of the year. So I thought I would share with you a list of 11 (in honor of 2011) posts I deemed to be the so-called "best" of the year. Enjoy!
1.) How to be a happy hermit
2.) Contentment
3.) "Obsessed"
4.) Talent vs. Training debate considered
5.) A Wholesome Thanksgiving
6.) The Effortless-Effort of "Flow"
7.) My First Marathon
8.) The New Teacher
9.) Discussion of Overtraining
10.) A memorial to Steve Jobs (1955-2011)
11.) From Discomfort to Resilience
Also, an end-of-the-year post would not be complete without a warm and hearty thank-you to you, the readers, whose encouragement, thoughts, and kind words have so helped me learn and grow as a writer and as a person. You are truly an inspiration, and I wish you all from the bottom of my heart the happiest 2012.
Have a Happy New Year, friends :)
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Developing alternatives to college
The end of a calendar year brings many things, but perhaps one of my favorites involve listening to others take stock of the previous 360+ days. Sometimes I think it's sad people don't do this more often, since so many interesting "seasons" in life don't follow the usual calendar system (the school-year previously being the most potent example for me). At any rate, the last few days of December are a convenient time, if nothing else, to look back upon the days that were, and consider their significance in the coming year.
Newspapers often approach this project by rehashing important (or provocative) events, remembering those famous figures who passed away, reviewing the big ideas of the year, and finally, having a laugh at predictions made the previous year which failed to materialize. Whatever your opinion on the matter, it's often done.
One idea I "rediscovered" in the plethora of "year-in-review" publications for 2011 was described in an article by Sarah Lacy, senior editor of TechCrunch.com, entitled "Peter Thiel: We're in a Bubble and it's not the Internet. It's Higher Education."
For those who don't know of Peter Thiel, he is among other things a co-founder of PayPal, and according to Ms. Lacy, "has a special talent for making people furious." This is likely because he has on multiple occasions in the past backed minority opinions, and often proved annoyingly accurate in his assessment (for instance, navigating PayPal through the Nasdaq collapse in 2000, and more recently his own finances through the housing-bubble in 2008).
But it's one thing to get a prediction about the economy right, and quite another to endorse a program which questions a cherished national belief. Yet this is precisely what Mr. Thiel decided to do this past year, and his target is what he perceives to be a bubble of higher education.
Mr. Thiel suggests that "'a true bubble is when something is overvalued and intensely believed.'" Ms. Lacy goes on to compare this education bubble idea with the housing bubble. "Like the housing bubble," she says, "the education bubble is all about security and insurance against the future. Both whisper a seductive promise into the ears of worried Americans: Do this and you will be safe."
The promise (described in part in an earlier post) is not without merit, but as Ms. Lacy suggests, the logic at work in a bubble is often "rooted in truth," but taken "to unhealthy levels." Mr. Thiel contends (in Ms. Lacy's words) that this unhealthy level is reached in higher education by "pin[ning] people's best hope for a better life on something that is by definition exclusionary." Says Mr. Thiel, "'If Harvard were really the best education, if it makes that much of a difference, why not franchise it so more people can attend? Why not create 100 Harvard affiliates?'"
It's a fair question, but would Harvard really be Harvard if everyone could attend? "'It's something about the scarcity and status.'" suggests Mr. Thiel. "'In education your value depends on other people failing...It's a way to ignore that people are falling through the cracks, because you pretend that if they could just go to Harvard, they'd be fine. Maybe that's not true.'"
That last sentence suggests that part of Mr. Thiel's purpose is to develop what Ms. Lacy calls a "counter-narrative" in response to a belief about higher education "rooted in the most elite echelons of the upper class." Accordingly, higher education's value should not only be questioned; in addition, viable alternatives need to be developed that hinge not on the promise of getting into an exclusive club, but on the rewards garnered through creativity and challenging previously-held notions of possibility.
In that spirit, this past year Mr. Thiel launched the "20 under 20" program. "The idea was simple," says Ms. Lacy. "Pick the best twenty kids he could find under 20 years of age and pay them $100,000 over two years to leave school and start a company instead."
The program has not passed without controversy, and it remains to be seen if the "alternative path" the program hopes to offer will prove truly viable. But one thing seems clear: 2011 has proved a year full questions, and the years to come will bear witness to how efficacious the answers now being proposed will be. It's an interesting time to be sure.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Newspapers often approach this project by rehashing important (or provocative) events, remembering those famous figures who passed away, reviewing the big ideas of the year, and finally, having a laugh at predictions made the previous year which failed to materialize. Whatever your opinion on the matter, it's often done.
One idea I "rediscovered" in the plethora of "year-in-review" publications for 2011 was described in an article by Sarah Lacy, senior editor of TechCrunch.com, entitled "Peter Thiel: We're in a Bubble and it's not the Internet. It's Higher Education."
For those who don't know of Peter Thiel, he is among other things a co-founder of PayPal, and according to Ms. Lacy, "has a special talent for making people furious." This is likely because he has on multiple occasions in the past backed minority opinions, and often proved annoyingly accurate in his assessment (for instance, navigating PayPal through the Nasdaq collapse in 2000, and more recently his own finances through the housing-bubble in 2008).
But it's one thing to get a prediction about the economy right, and quite another to endorse a program which questions a cherished national belief. Yet this is precisely what Mr. Thiel decided to do this past year, and his target is what he perceives to be a bubble of higher education.
Mr. Thiel suggests that "'a true bubble is when something is overvalued and intensely believed.'" Ms. Lacy goes on to compare this education bubble idea with the housing bubble. "Like the housing bubble," she says, "the education bubble is all about security and insurance against the future. Both whisper a seductive promise into the ears of worried Americans: Do this and you will be safe."
The promise (described in part in an earlier post) is not without merit, but as Ms. Lacy suggests, the logic at work in a bubble is often "rooted in truth," but taken "to unhealthy levels." Mr. Thiel contends (in Ms. Lacy's words) that this unhealthy level is reached in higher education by "pin[ning] people's best hope for a better life on something that is by definition exclusionary." Says Mr. Thiel, "'If Harvard were really the best education, if it makes that much of a difference, why not franchise it so more people can attend? Why not create 100 Harvard affiliates?'"
It's a fair question, but would Harvard really be Harvard if everyone could attend? "'It's something about the scarcity and status.'" suggests Mr. Thiel. "'In education your value depends on other people failing...It's a way to ignore that people are falling through the cracks, because you pretend that if they could just go to Harvard, they'd be fine. Maybe that's not true.'"
That last sentence suggests that part of Mr. Thiel's purpose is to develop what Ms. Lacy calls a "counter-narrative" in response to a belief about higher education "rooted in the most elite echelons of the upper class." Accordingly, higher education's value should not only be questioned; in addition, viable alternatives need to be developed that hinge not on the promise of getting into an exclusive club, but on the rewards garnered through creativity and challenging previously-held notions of possibility.
In that spirit, this past year Mr. Thiel launched the "20 under 20" program. "The idea was simple," says Ms. Lacy. "Pick the best twenty kids he could find under 20 years of age and pay them $100,000 over two years to leave school and start a company instead."
The program has not passed without controversy, and it remains to be seen if the "alternative path" the program hopes to offer will prove truly viable. But one thing seems clear: 2011 has proved a year full questions, and the years to come will bear witness to how efficacious the answers now being proposed will be. It's an interesting time to be sure.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A question for parents, teachers, coaches etc.
It's been almost a year since Amy Chua published her controversial book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, yet in spite of all the media attention it received this past year, the issues she brings to the fore continue to hold relevance in our time.
This is due to the intense and and often passionate scrutiny under which formal education on all levels (particularly college) finds itself in the US today. Mrs. Chua has not focused especially on formal education in the first half of her book (the half I've read), but her emphasis on industry and hard work point toward the same end: success.
As discussed in an earlier post, the recession of 2008 has led many to question assumptions once made regarding formal education, most particularly that a college education guarantees a good job, and therefore makes taking on massive debt to achieve that end worthwhile. Given that student-loan debt in the US topped 1 trillion dollars this past summer, perhaps it is right to question such assumptions.
But what of other assumptions should we question? A major theme in the first half of Battle Hymn is that children cannot be trusted to do what's good for them, so far as their future is concerned. Given the freedom to get less-than-perfect grades, practice the instrument (or choose their instrument for that matter) when they like, or remain only at grade-level in mathematics all lead to inevitable decadence and waste. Childhood is a time of training to become confident, competent adults of exceptional brilliance and skill. Anything less than top of the table is a failure.
Quite a vision, eh? It's remarkable how an idea can simultaneously seem so repulsive and attractive. How many young people dream of being successful professionals someday? How many children nurse an ambition to transform themselves into confident and brilliant adults? And yet how many alone can cobble together the industry and intellect required to make that dream a reality?
That's a pickle (one of many) in our time, and it leads some parents, teachers, and coaches to question how to approach the cultivation of talent and skill in young people. Should they employ an iron fist or an open palm? Assume strength in all cases, or weakness instead? Is childhood a time of training for adulthood, or a unique stage of life that transcends traditional conceptions of success?
These are hard issues, and I'd like to finish Mrs. Chua's book (and think some more) before diving in myself. You're welcome to share your thoughts if you have them, and wrestle with this important issue. Many thanks, and of course,
Happy Tuesday :)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Enjoy the holiday by slowing down
Good morning, good day, good evening; whichever it is, I hope it is good :). It's the winter solstice today in the northern hemisphere, and the light is going fast. That doesn't mean, however, that you must as well. While few seasons prove more frenetic than the winter holiday season, there's something to be said for taking a moment to catch one's breath and take in the festivities. You might find by doing so that life can be very refreshing when you spend a little time just slowing down.
Of course it can be surprisingly difficult these days to slow down. It's is a demanding time for many, full of pressure to please and outdo. It's a bit frightening really, with stories in the newspaper about Black Friday violence, shop-lifting, and how once again loads of people are cracking under the pressure to make the season "perfect." Of course you find that in all seasons, but the holidays do seem to highlight such confusion. It's enough to drive anyone bananas.
Yet for all that the winter holiday season can be really great. The music is festive, the food is quite good, and the context abounds with wholesome images (bells, holly, snowmen, menorahs, stars, mangers, and frankincense to name a few) among all the advertising. Whether you're alone or surrounded by family and friends, you'll miss a lot if you forget to take a moment and slow down a bit. For all the uncertainty, difficulty, and tragedy in our world today, there remains something quite nice about these next few days, the first of winter. If you can just take a moment from whatever it is you're doing; to think of something that makes you happy, or something about the holiday that you particularly enjoy. Celebrating these things is perhaps more important than any deal you might get, or any gift you might buy (awesome as they might be!). It may not be "the most wonderful time of the year" for you, but it could turn out quite nice anyway if you wake up and celebrate the moment.
It's been said that our thoughts are like a garden; water your worries, and they will out-grow everything. Water your joys, and they will do likewise. And while winter isn't the most conducive season for gardening outside, it's as good a time as any to tend that figurative garden in the mind. Something to consider.
Happy Winter Solstice, friends :)
Of course it can be surprisingly difficult these days to slow down. It's is a demanding time for many, full of pressure to please and outdo. It's a bit frightening really, with stories in the newspaper about Black Friday violence, shop-lifting, and how once again loads of people are cracking under the pressure to make the season "perfect." Of course you find that in all seasons, but the holidays do seem to highlight such confusion. It's enough to drive anyone bananas.
Yet for all that the winter holiday season can be really great. The music is festive, the food is quite good, and the context abounds with wholesome images (bells, holly, snowmen, menorahs, stars, mangers, and frankincense to name a few) among all the advertising. Whether you're alone or surrounded by family and friends, you'll miss a lot if you forget to take a moment and slow down a bit. For all the uncertainty, difficulty, and tragedy in our world today, there remains something quite nice about these next few days, the first of winter. If you can just take a moment from whatever it is you're doing; to think of something that makes you happy, or something about the holiday that you particularly enjoy. Celebrating these things is perhaps more important than any deal you might get, or any gift you might buy (awesome as they might be!). It may not be "the most wonderful time of the year" for you, but it could turn out quite nice anyway if you wake up and celebrate the moment.
It's been said that our thoughts are like a garden; water your worries, and they will out-grow everything. Water your joys, and they will do likewise. And while winter isn't the most conducive season for gardening outside, it's as good a time as any to tend that figurative garden in the mind. Something to consider.
Happy Winter Solstice, friends :)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
How to be a Happy Hermit
A few days ago, I came across an interesting talk by a Buddhist monk named Ajahn Brahm entitled "To be a Happy Hermit." In it, Ajahn Brahm describes how time spent alone ("hermit moments") allow people to develop a better relationship with themselves, and thereby a better relationship with everyone else. It's a nice video if you have time to watch (it's about 55 minutes all told), but if not I'll try and describe the pertinent points below.
As a monk who lives in a cave, Mr. Brahm is often asked if he feels lonely. He says he doesn't, and the reason is because being alone has allowed him to get to know himself. In a manner of speaking, he has become "best friends" with himself. That sounds a bit strange at first, but the more upon it he elaborates the less strange it sounds.
See, Mr. Brahm suggests that a great many people can't stand to be alone because they don't particularly like themselves. They think they're too fat, too stupid, or just not up to the level at which they should be.
Have you ever felt this way? I know I have, particularly around exam times or when filling out graduate school applications. You have an image of what perfection should look like, and you lament at the incongruousness between that image and how you view yourself. Some go so far as to hate themselves for being so different from the image in their head, while others simply don't like themselves.
In an earlier post we discussed a similar problem related to the "self-improvement urge," considering the place of contentment in growing as a person. Ajahn Brahm presents a similar conclusion, suggesting that spending time with oneself allows a person to realize that for all the faults and mistakes of the past, "I'm okay" (Before I continue, just imagine a jolly Australian monk saying this with a big grin). "There's nothing wrong with you," says Mr. Brahm, "when they gave out a body and a mind, they didn't make a mistake with you." By accepting yourself--faults and all--you can become friends with yourself, and not wage a constant "war" inside your head. According to Mr. Brahm this is critical, because a healthy relationship with yourself is critical for developing a healthy relationship with others.
Mr. Brahm suggests this is because those who don't seek to find fault with themselves are less likely to seek fault in others. If you can accept and be kind to yourself, you can accept and be kind to other people too. For Ajahn Brahm that starts with yourself, particularly in those "hermit moments" when you and yourself are all alone together. Learn to be kind and treat yourself well, and it will help you learn how to be kind and treat others well.
There's another side to it, however. Mr. Brahm suggests that by accepting yourself, you learn to stop striving after things and relax. It's amazing actually the similarities on this point between Ajahn Brahm and New Zealand running coach Arthur Lydiard, who use to implore runners "train, don't strain." For Lydiard distance runners had to learn how to relax; this was absolutely necessary for peak performance. Ajahn Brahm appears to agree, suggesting that people will see more improvement if they learn to relax and accept themselves for who they are.
So to sum up, Ajahn Brahm suggests that to be happy hermit (and indeed, a happy person), one should try and cultivate a happy, healthy relationship with one's self. Doing so teaches a person how to cultivate such relationships with others, and creates a kind of contentment that allows a person to relax and perform at their best. If you can make peace with yourself, perhaps peace with everyone is possible. Something to consider.
Happy Tuesday :)
As a monk who lives in a cave, Mr. Brahm is often asked if he feels lonely. He says he doesn't, and the reason is because being alone has allowed him to get to know himself. In a manner of speaking, he has become "best friends" with himself. That sounds a bit strange at first, but the more upon it he elaborates the less strange it sounds.
See, Mr. Brahm suggests that a great many people can't stand to be alone because they don't particularly like themselves. They think they're too fat, too stupid, or just not up to the level at which they should be.
Have you ever felt this way? I know I have, particularly around exam times or when filling out graduate school applications. You have an image of what perfection should look like, and you lament at the incongruousness between that image and how you view yourself. Some go so far as to hate themselves for being so different from the image in their head, while others simply don't like themselves.
In an earlier post we discussed a similar problem related to the "self-improvement urge," considering the place of contentment in growing as a person. Ajahn Brahm presents a similar conclusion, suggesting that spending time with oneself allows a person to realize that for all the faults and mistakes of the past, "I'm okay" (Before I continue, just imagine a jolly Australian monk saying this with a big grin). "There's nothing wrong with you," says Mr. Brahm, "when they gave out a body and a mind, they didn't make a mistake with you." By accepting yourself--faults and all--you can become friends with yourself, and not wage a constant "war" inside your head. According to Mr. Brahm this is critical, because a healthy relationship with yourself is critical for developing a healthy relationship with others.
Mr. Brahm suggests this is because those who don't seek to find fault with themselves are less likely to seek fault in others. If you can accept and be kind to yourself, you can accept and be kind to other people too. For Ajahn Brahm that starts with yourself, particularly in those "hermit moments" when you and yourself are all alone together. Learn to be kind and treat yourself well, and it will help you learn how to be kind and treat others well.
There's another side to it, however. Mr. Brahm suggests that by accepting yourself, you learn to stop striving after things and relax. It's amazing actually the similarities on this point between Ajahn Brahm and New Zealand running coach Arthur Lydiard, who use to implore runners "train, don't strain." For Lydiard distance runners had to learn how to relax; this was absolutely necessary for peak performance. Ajahn Brahm appears to agree, suggesting that people will see more improvement if they learn to relax and accept themselves for who they are.
So to sum up, Ajahn Brahm suggests that to be happy hermit (and indeed, a happy person), one should try and cultivate a happy, healthy relationship with one's self. Doing so teaches a person how to cultivate such relationships with others, and creates a kind of contentment that allows a person to relax and perform at their best. If you can make peace with yourself, perhaps peace with everyone is possible. Something to consider.
Happy Tuesday :)
A Time of Confusion--is College Worth the Cost?
Quite by accident, I ended up on youtube yesterday scrolling through videos proclaiming how much a scam college education has become. Given the times, perhaps this should come as no surprise; people are angry, and for better or worse angry people seem to have loud voices.
The issue is a hard one for me, which is perhaps one reason I spent so much time yesterday viewing videos of angry people; there are elements of their grievances with which I agree.
What are these grievances? Primarily, that promises were made which have not proved true. Sir Ken Robinson describes one level of this promise nicely in a popular video called "Changing Education Paradigms." The promise goes something like this and is well-known: if you work hard in school, do lots of extra-curriculars, and get into college, you will have a nice job when you finish. An oft-cited statistic suggests that people who earn Bachelors' degrees earn an average of $1 million more over their lifetime than those without. So understood, the promise described above takes on an additional level, which basically states: If you make $1 million more with a degree than without one, it makes perfect sense to take on debt to fund the venture. And don't worry; you'll pay it back in no time.
The last few years have shown that both levels of the promise have not proved entirely true. According to a consumer report from June, student debt in the United States surpassed $1 trillion this past summer, out-pacing even credit-card debt. Furthermore, "unemployment for recent college graduates climbed from 5.8% in 2008 to 8.7% in 2009--the highest annual rate on record for college graduates aged 20-24."
Fortunately there is good news. While I could find no indication that student-debt has fallen, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), those with degrees continue to have significantly lower unemployment rates than those without. Consider the seasonally-adjusted numbers here. As of November 2011, the unemployment rate for people without a high school degree was 13.2% ; high school graduates 8.8%, some college and/or associates degree holders 7.6%, and those with bachelors' degrees or higher 4.4%. Whatever else might be wrong (or right) with college today, people who hold degrees appear a lot more likely to find work. For many people, this employment might be out of their field, or leave them feeling "underemployed." I am one such example, having studied history in college and now work in the refrigerator of a grocery store. I'm okay with that for now, but I can appreciate why people are angry.
Watching those videos last night led me to realize how popular it is these days to bash college (and often, college students). As discussed in an earlier post, research suggests that college students today not only appear to study less, but also don't seem to learn much in their time as undergraduates. Coupled with the popular fervor against college as a "scam," the message seems clear; going to college is a waste of time and money. Students today are lazy, and college curriculum ineffective. Get a job, start making money, and let the money-grubbing system of higher education steal from someone else.
Harsh? Perhaps, though who can blame people who feel they've been cheated? Our time is one of confusion when it comes to the value of higher-education, and I wonder at the consequences. Will artists and other non-technical types be marginalized further than they have? Will cash-strapped institutions start cutting language, arts, and humanities courses? Will our society alienate people whose abilities aren't congruent with traditional measures of talent and intelligence?
I hope not, but who knows. This economic downturn has certainly led people to question the value of many things, and I think that is something potentially worthwhile. Hopefully the angry voices are not the only voices heard.
Happy Tuesday :)
The issue is a hard one for me, which is perhaps one reason I spent so much time yesterday viewing videos of angry people; there are elements of their grievances with which I agree.
What are these grievances? Primarily, that promises were made which have not proved true. Sir Ken Robinson describes one level of this promise nicely in a popular video called "Changing Education Paradigms." The promise goes something like this and is well-known: if you work hard in school, do lots of extra-curriculars, and get into college, you will have a nice job when you finish. An oft-cited statistic suggests that people who earn Bachelors' degrees earn an average of $1 million more over their lifetime than those without. So understood, the promise described above takes on an additional level, which basically states: If you make $1 million more with a degree than without one, it makes perfect sense to take on debt to fund the venture. And don't worry; you'll pay it back in no time.
The last few years have shown that both levels of the promise have not proved entirely true. According to a consumer report from June, student debt in the United States surpassed $1 trillion this past summer, out-pacing even credit-card debt. Furthermore, "unemployment for recent college graduates climbed from 5.8% in 2008 to 8.7% in 2009--the highest annual rate on record for college graduates aged 20-24."
Fortunately there is good news. While I could find no indication that student-debt has fallen, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), those with degrees continue to have significantly lower unemployment rates than those without. Consider the seasonally-adjusted numbers here. As of November 2011, the unemployment rate for people without a high school degree was 13.2% ; high school graduates 8.8%, some college and/or associates degree holders 7.6%, and those with bachelors' degrees or higher 4.4%. Whatever else might be wrong (or right) with college today, people who hold degrees appear a lot more likely to find work. For many people, this employment might be out of their field, or leave them feeling "underemployed." I am one such example, having studied history in college and now work in the refrigerator of a grocery store. I'm okay with that for now, but I can appreciate why people are angry.
Watching those videos last night led me to realize how popular it is these days to bash college (and often, college students). As discussed in an earlier post, research suggests that college students today not only appear to study less, but also don't seem to learn much in their time as undergraduates. Coupled with the popular fervor against college as a "scam," the message seems clear; going to college is a waste of time and money. Students today are lazy, and college curriculum ineffective. Get a job, start making money, and let the money-grubbing system of higher education steal from someone else.
Harsh? Perhaps, though who can blame people who feel they've been cheated? Our time is one of confusion when it comes to the value of higher-education, and I wonder at the consequences. Will artists and other non-technical types be marginalized further than they have? Will cash-strapped institutions start cutting language, arts, and humanities courses? Will our society alienate people whose abilities aren't congruent with traditional measures of talent and intelligence?
I hope not, but who knows. This economic downturn has certainly led people to question the value of many things, and I think that is something potentially worthwhile. Hopefully the angry voices are not the only voices heard.
Happy Tuesday :)
Friday, December 16, 2011
Contentment
"When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you." -Lao Tzu
Blogger Leo Babauta of ZenHabits recently wrote a thought-provoking post entitled "Quashing the Self-Improvement Urge," in which he suggests that eventually the urge to improve, "only makes you feel inadequate."
I found the entry rather puzzling, even shocking, given the culture in which we live. In my experience, there seems to be something deeply ingrained in many people which finds the idea of improvement--particularly self-improvement--highly attractive. The idea of ambition itself seems premised on the notion that the good life is spent moving from one "place" to another, accomplished usually through practice, hierarchy-navigation, and the cultivation of particular skills and attitudes conducive to one's goal-state.
When I was in high school, two types of people seemed particularly valued: those who accomplished great things, and those who worked hard to someday accomplish great things. The field of endeavor never mattered, the values remained constant. In music, the skilled musicians took the highest place, and the young, ambitious players who practiced a lot, got private-lessons, and worked hard to improve took the next. In athletics, the top athletes who scored points and won matches took first honors, and the motivated and hard-working took second. In academics, the skilled students were valued most, and the less-skilled-but-hard-workers were valued second-most. The point is that in all fields, the skilled and the motivated were valued most.
On many levels, this makes to me a great deal of sense. A music teacher can do a lot with skilled and motivated musicians, but almost nothing with the unambitious and apathetic. Skilled and motivated athletes give coaches the resources of which winning seasons--and even championships--are made. And it is the thoughtful and passionate students who make teaching a joy rather than a chore. In all cases, some combination of skill and motivation seems a prerequisite for doing anything which society deems worthwhile.
And yet I wonder, are we missing something here?
Mr. Babauta's argument against self-improvement is premised on the notion that self-improvement is goal without an end, urged on us by ourselves and others. "When does it end?" he asks. "When is anyone ever content with who they are? We are taught that we are not good enough yet, that we must improve, and so...we always feel a little inadequate."
There's something disturbingly-familiar about this line of thought that ends in constant inadequacy, and history furnishes an illustrative example. Reformation historian Carter Lindberg poignantly describes a similar adequacy-crisis within the context of pre-Reformation Christian theology, and consideration of his discussion seems warranted within the context of our question.
According to Lindberg, with regard to the achievement of salvation, a common invocation of medieval Christian theology says that one should "facere quod in se est," or "do what lies within you" (Lindberg 2006, 63). Lacking a precise measure of what exactly "lies within" people, a common answer to those who wondered if they were doing enough was simply, "try harder." So understood, salvation became an achievement for those who honestly "did their best" with what "lies within." It's no surprise that the image of a ladder so often illustrates point. The good life, under these circumstances, becomes one of moving up from an inferior position to a superior one.
Sound familiar? It may, since the logic of the theology here described closely mirrors that of Mr. Babauta's description of the modern "Self-improvement urge." In fact, Carter Lindberg even points out the congruence, saying:
"No matter what is accomplished, one may think more could have been achieved with just some more effort. Whether you are an A student or an F student you can always do more. 'Do what lies within you,' 'do the best you can.' This approach is not uniquely medieval or Aristotelian; it is equally modern, certainly American. Realize your own potential; anyone can be a success if he or she only tries hard enough; you can better yourself" (Lindberg, 68).
Within the context of medieval theology, this "urge" is premised on Aristotelian philosophy. According to Lindberg, Aristotle claimed that "like is known by like." Since God is perfect, this was taken to mean that for a person to know God (and for God to know a person), then that person "must become 'like' God" (Lindberg, 68). This task was accomplished through another Aristotelian idea, which contended that any self-improvement is the result of "habitual activity." As described by Lindberg, "Through such habits or practices ethics becomes a kind of second nature" (Lindberg, 69).
Does that too sound familiar? "Just practice," and "do your best" still ring in my ears from those confusing days in high school when nothing I could do was ever enough to satisfy my teachers, coaches, or employers. "Only through much effort and great pains are great things accomplished."
This appears to be the credo of the "self-improvement urge." Its central expectation states that with enough effort and discipline, perfection can be achieved. When it's not, "you are simply not working hard enough."
What are we moderns ever to do? If the desired end of improvement is perfection, shall we never be content with who we are? Can you and me and everyone else never be enough? Is it our lot to always feel inadequate?
Let me tell you the next part of the theology story. It's by no means the "end," traditionally understood; far from it in fact. But the next part may offer insight into the dilemma of adequacy at which we've presently arrived.
According to Lindberg, "'do what lies within you'" means that salvation is a process that occurs within us as we perfect ourselves. Put another way, we become righteous before God as we do righteous acts, as we do good works" (Lindberg, 69). When Martin Luther (1483-1546), as a young man an Augustinian monk, tried to embody this theology in his monastic practice, he very nearly killed himself through fasting and exposure. Even then, "Luther could not believe that God was placated by his efforts to do his best for his salvation" (Lindberg, 69). Faced with the implication that imperfect humans could never be saved, Luther returned to scripture and had something of an epiphany, if the expression may be used.
What did Herr Luther see? In short, he concluded that piety is not about achievement, but about expressing a kind of contentment. As described by Lindberg, Luther concluded that "We do not do good works in order to become acceptable to God; rather, because God accepts us we do good works," shifting the relationship between man and God from an "if...then" to a "because...therefore" argument (Lindberg, 70). For Luther, it was not a matter of "If I do good, then God will love me," but rather, "Because God loves me, therefore I do good."
I think a lot of relationships in our lives are premised on an if...then basis. If you work hard and show enthusiasm, then most teachers will find you a good student. If you can help a team win the match, then the coach will usually be glad to have you. A musician who's willing to work hard, learn the music, and come to class prepared is what most band directors would likely consider a model student. It seems so common, and yet it's based entirely on conditions. "If you do what I want, then I will lavish you with praise," can just as easily become "If you don't do what I want, then I will lavish you with ridicule." In such cases, our good-will is conditional and revocable.
Perhaps this is simply the only way most people can be motivated, but, as I mentioned above, what if we're missing something important here?
What if we could simply be content with who we are? "I'm not a professional musician, but because I love music I make music." When people accept you for who you are, there's no pressure to do anything except what you love most to do.
A runner who loves to run will run regardless if he or she is ordered or not. A writer who loves to write will write no matter what.
The crazy thing about all this is that, in many ways, Aristotle's second idea from above is often proved in practice; people who do something a lot tend to get better at it. Put simply, they improve without feeling any pressure to improve. Their daily practice becomes an expression of their contentment, rather than an achievement for the pleasing of others. The difference is subtle, but the implications are possibly enormous.
Mr. Babauta's post remains shocking to me, but perhaps that is because of how deeply the notion of self-improvement is inscribed within my social context. Yet it seems entirely possible to learn, improve, and be happy without the constant pressure to get better...or else. Regardless of your religion (or lack thereof), perhaps Luther's interpretation has something valuable for all of us; that the good life, no matter your definition, is at its heart an expression and not an achievement. Something perhaps to consider.
Happy Friday :)
Blogger Leo Babauta of ZenHabits recently wrote a thought-provoking post entitled "Quashing the Self-Improvement Urge," in which he suggests that eventually the urge to improve, "only makes you feel inadequate."
I found the entry rather puzzling, even shocking, given the culture in which we live. In my experience, there seems to be something deeply ingrained in many people which finds the idea of improvement--particularly self-improvement--highly attractive. The idea of ambition itself seems premised on the notion that the good life is spent moving from one "place" to another, accomplished usually through practice, hierarchy-navigation, and the cultivation of particular skills and attitudes conducive to one's goal-state.
When I was in high school, two types of people seemed particularly valued: those who accomplished great things, and those who worked hard to someday accomplish great things. The field of endeavor never mattered, the values remained constant. In music, the skilled musicians took the highest place, and the young, ambitious players who practiced a lot, got private-lessons, and worked hard to improve took the next. In athletics, the top athletes who scored points and won matches took first honors, and the motivated and hard-working took second. In academics, the skilled students were valued most, and the less-skilled-but-hard-workers were valued second-most. The point is that in all fields, the skilled and the motivated were valued most.
On many levels, this makes to me a great deal of sense. A music teacher can do a lot with skilled and motivated musicians, but almost nothing with the unambitious and apathetic. Skilled and motivated athletes give coaches the resources of which winning seasons--and even championships--are made. And it is the thoughtful and passionate students who make teaching a joy rather than a chore. In all cases, some combination of skill and motivation seems a prerequisite for doing anything which society deems worthwhile.
And yet I wonder, are we missing something here?
Mr. Babauta's argument against self-improvement is premised on the notion that self-improvement is goal without an end, urged on us by ourselves and others. "When does it end?" he asks. "When is anyone ever content with who they are? We are taught that we are not good enough yet, that we must improve, and so...we always feel a little inadequate."
There's something disturbingly-familiar about this line of thought that ends in constant inadequacy, and history furnishes an illustrative example. Reformation historian Carter Lindberg poignantly describes a similar adequacy-crisis within the context of pre-Reformation Christian theology, and consideration of his discussion seems warranted within the context of our question.
According to Lindberg, with regard to the achievement of salvation, a common invocation of medieval Christian theology says that one should "facere quod in se est," or "do what lies within you" (Lindberg 2006, 63). Lacking a precise measure of what exactly "lies within" people, a common answer to those who wondered if they were doing enough was simply, "try harder." So understood, salvation became an achievement for those who honestly "did their best" with what "lies within." It's no surprise that the image of a ladder so often illustrates point. The good life, under these circumstances, becomes one of moving up from an inferior position to a superior one.
Sound familiar? It may, since the logic of the theology here described closely mirrors that of Mr. Babauta's description of the modern "Self-improvement urge." In fact, Carter Lindberg even points out the congruence, saying:
"No matter what is accomplished, one may think more could have been achieved with just some more effort. Whether you are an A student or an F student you can always do more. 'Do what lies within you,' 'do the best you can.' This approach is not uniquely medieval or Aristotelian; it is equally modern, certainly American. Realize your own potential; anyone can be a success if he or she only tries hard enough; you can better yourself" (Lindberg, 68).
Within the context of medieval theology, this "urge" is premised on Aristotelian philosophy. According to Lindberg, Aristotle claimed that "like is known by like." Since God is perfect, this was taken to mean that for a person to know God (and for God to know a person), then that person "must become 'like' God" (Lindberg, 68). This task was accomplished through another Aristotelian idea, which contended that any self-improvement is the result of "habitual activity." As described by Lindberg, "Through such habits or practices ethics becomes a kind of second nature" (Lindberg, 69).
Does that too sound familiar? "Just practice," and "do your best" still ring in my ears from those confusing days in high school when nothing I could do was ever enough to satisfy my teachers, coaches, or employers. "Only through much effort and great pains are great things accomplished."
This appears to be the credo of the "self-improvement urge." Its central expectation states that with enough effort and discipline, perfection can be achieved. When it's not, "you are simply not working hard enough."
What are we moderns ever to do? If the desired end of improvement is perfection, shall we never be content with who we are? Can you and me and everyone else never be enough? Is it our lot to always feel inadequate?
Let me tell you the next part of the theology story. It's by no means the "end," traditionally understood; far from it in fact. But the next part may offer insight into the dilemma of adequacy at which we've presently arrived.
According to Lindberg, "'do what lies within you'" means that salvation is a process that occurs within us as we perfect ourselves. Put another way, we become righteous before God as we do righteous acts, as we do good works" (Lindberg, 69). When Martin Luther (1483-1546), as a young man an Augustinian monk, tried to embody this theology in his monastic practice, he very nearly killed himself through fasting and exposure. Even then, "Luther could not believe that God was placated by his efforts to do his best for his salvation" (Lindberg, 69). Faced with the implication that imperfect humans could never be saved, Luther returned to scripture and had something of an epiphany, if the expression may be used.
What did Herr Luther see? In short, he concluded that piety is not about achievement, but about expressing a kind of contentment. As described by Lindberg, Luther concluded that "We do not do good works in order to become acceptable to God; rather, because God accepts us we do good works," shifting the relationship between man and God from an "if...then" to a "because...therefore" argument (Lindberg, 70). For Luther, it was not a matter of "If I do good, then God will love me," but rather, "Because God loves me, therefore I do good."
I think a lot of relationships in our lives are premised on an if...then basis. If you work hard and show enthusiasm, then most teachers will find you a good student. If you can help a team win the match, then the coach will usually be glad to have you. A musician who's willing to work hard, learn the music, and come to class prepared is what most band directors would likely consider a model student. It seems so common, and yet it's based entirely on conditions. "If you do what I want, then I will lavish you with praise," can just as easily become "If you don't do what I want, then I will lavish you with ridicule." In such cases, our good-will is conditional and revocable.
Perhaps this is simply the only way most people can be motivated, but, as I mentioned above, what if we're missing something important here?
What if we could simply be content with who we are? "I'm not a professional musician, but because I love music I make music." When people accept you for who you are, there's no pressure to do anything except what you love most to do.
A runner who loves to run will run regardless if he or she is ordered or not. A writer who loves to write will write no matter what.
The crazy thing about all this is that, in many ways, Aristotle's second idea from above is often proved in practice; people who do something a lot tend to get better at it. Put simply, they improve without feeling any pressure to improve. Their daily practice becomes an expression of their contentment, rather than an achievement for the pleasing of others. The difference is subtle, but the implications are possibly enormous.
Mr. Babauta's post remains shocking to me, but perhaps that is because of how deeply the notion of self-improvement is inscribed within my social context. Yet it seems entirely possible to learn, improve, and be happy without the constant pressure to get better...or else. Regardless of your religion (or lack thereof), perhaps Luther's interpretation has something valuable for all of us; that the good life, no matter your definition, is at its heart an expression and not an achievement. Something perhaps to consider.
Happy Friday :)
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