Judgment

“Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.” — (Matthew 7:1-2)

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Judgment: We have judged; we have been judged; we have been warned about judging; we have tried not to judge, yet we go on judging. We continue to judge, because we are unable not to judge. One fundamental aspect of all creatures is that they make evaluations, and this built-in feature is one that we cannot disable or uninstall. We constantly make judgments about the world we encounter, and our lives depend upon these judgments. Being asked to not judge would be akin to asking us not to feel, not to have emotions, not to think … not to feel alive.

Since judgment requires taking a measure, it is intimately related to value. When we judge, we are measuring and assessing value, worthiness, or usefulness. We must make choices to survive; to make choices we need to evaluate, and because these decisions must often be made quickly and efficiently, we depend upon shortcuts. Our feelings are the shortcuts. Feelings provide us with immediate feedback. Individuals, who have lost the connections between their emotional system and their executive functions due to an accident will experience decision paralysis, stress, and grow very agitated when they must make a choice, even a simple one.

If we must judge to live, then why the negative judgment about judgment? The above verse from the book of Matthew seems to hint that the prohibition has something to do with the way you judge. Do we judge others in the way that we want them to judge us? One of the most universal human biases is the attribution bias. This is the tendency when judging others for us to assume their behavior is the result of internal factors, such as their personality, yet assuming our own actions arise because of the necessity of external circumstances. We see others as having character defects and ourselves as victims of circumstance. We are biased, prejudiced, and far from rational beings — we do not judge fairly.

A person’s judgments reflect the essence of their personality and identity, which involves an ongoing dance between their inborn traits and their experiences in life. Because our judgments are so fundamental to us, we often assume that our particular judgments should be just as fundamental to others; but our judgments reflect our unique perspective, and therein lies the problem. Our judgments reflect our valuation, rather than a universal standard. Most of us rarely question the basis of our judgments, though we are quick to question the basis of others’ judgments — when they differ from ours or are directed at us.

When others’ evaluations are similar to our own, they are felt to be right, good, or okay and sometimes universal. However, when others’ evaluations differ from ours, they feel wrong or bad. We enjoy being with others who share our perspective, because the more consensus gathered around a judgment, the truthier it feels to us, and the more justified we feel. This is often the basis for the communities with which we choose to associate. Another person’s evaluation of us can either build us up or tear us down, unite us or divide us. Most of us prefer to be to be with people who build us up, yet in doing so, we often unite through tearing down those who differ from us.

Judgment is here to stay. The challenge will be to own our judgments as a subjective viewpoint. We need more education on how our minds deceive us along with more awareness of our personal biases, prejudices, and values. This will not happen without intentional effort, practice, and feedback from supportive guides. Humanity needs more dialogue, but if we do not understand the subjective nature of our consciousness, then wars, on both the personal and global levels, will continue indefinitely.

“All war is a symptom of man’s failure as a thinking animal.”   — John Steinbeck


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

No Matter

Creator

Who made God?

This perceptive question asked by many precocious children deserves an answer…though a definitive answer is unlikely. This question challenges the “first cause” argument, an ontological position which asserts that there must be an initial cause of all that exists by following a chain of causality to the “first cause,” or as Aristotle termed it, the unmoved mover. Those who are theologically inclined believe this first cause to be God, while those who are secular, theorize naturalistic explanations such as the big bang, cyclic models, multiverses, or other scientifically based theoretical attempts to explain this mystery.

It is as impossible for our minds to grasp a nothingness from which something was born, as it is to grasp a something that was never born. What word we use for this ground of being, source of existence, pre-existing condition, or infinite state says something about the metaphysical paradigm we are reasoning from. Whether theological or secular, the ultimate existential question remains for all of us — why is there something rather than nothing? Why do I exist? Where did I come from? Hidden in these questions is the assumption that I do exist. Not only do I exist, but I am aware of my existence. While we can imagine that existence could be without awareness, that is not what we experience; our conscious experiencing is not seriously questioned. In actuality, our raw experience or consciousness is all any of us can be certain of.

Our minds automatically think in terms of causation, which leads us to explain our experiences by finding causes of those experiences. When this is lacking, we feel confused and out of sorts. Causal thinking works well for our day-to-day whodunits, but when it comes to finding the ultimate cause, it leads us to an infinite regress which either never ends or ends at the “first cause” — to which our causal minded minds ask, what caused the first cause or, who made God? Materialists face an additional but similar challenge as they try to solve the “hard problem of consciousness,” which involves figuring out how mindless matter thinks? This problem is similar to determining how something comes from nothing.

The most parsimonious solution is to flip the problem around by starting with the one thing most of us can agree upon, that we are conscious. Consciousness is the one thing which we all directly experience without an intermediary. This is a very satisfactory beginning point; let this be the unmoved mover from which all else stems. Given that our own personal consciousness seems endlessly creative, capable of constructing worlds and beings, what might a universal consciousness be capable of? Why do we need something else to explain where consciousness came from?

escherThat something else is usually some form of matter, but matter is not a required link in the chain. Matter is becoming increasingly squirrely, perplexing, and a lot more like consciousness anyway. Letting go of matter’s preeminence is the solution to the hard problem of consciousness. Mindless matter did not become conscious, consciousness became “matter.” Matter just happens to be what consciousness looks like. I still do not know who made consciousness — maybe it is infinite, or maybe it developed ex nihilo, but I do know it exists.

Today there is a wide measure of agreement, which on the physical side of science approaches almost to unanimity, that the stream of knowledge is heading towards a non-mechanical reality; the universe begins to look more like a great thought than like a great machine. Mind no longer appears as an accidental intruder into the realm of matter; we are beginning to suspect that we ought rather to hail it as a creator and governor of the realm of matter…

— Sir James Hopwood Jeans

 


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

Two Worlds

Rodin-The-ThinkerI seem to live in two worlds. One that might be called my “inner world” consists of my private thoughts, emotions, images, and sensations. The other which appears to me as an “outer world” is a shared world that consists of other beings (those who seem to possess an inner world) and objects (things that do not seem to possess an inner world). These two worlds make up my universe; nothing else exists…for me.

The interplay between these two worlds is complex. Much of what could be said to exist in my outer world, exists only in my inner world. For example, I have never been to Africa, so I have never experienced it in my outer world, I have never touched it, seen it, heard it, tasted it, or smelled it. The continent of Africa is an outer world shared by over one billion people that for me, exists only in my inner world through second hand experiences.

neo-wakes-upMy office, where I sit now, exists in my outer and inner world. My inner world, ostensibly fed by the “actual” outer world through my senses, makes my office appear to me as a part of my outer world. It seems real, but how do I know for certain what is real? The philosophical position of solipsism holds that the “outer world” cannot be known. Extreme forms of solipsism deny any outer world, which includes all the other inner worlds. The plot of the science fiction film “The Matrix,” plays with the concept that the outer world is constructed by the mind. The Matrix, a designed outer world, is a complex computer program which humans directly interface with through ports connected to their brains. The humans in the Matrix experience an outer world that does not really exist “out there.”

Chaplin.mirrorDebates about the nature of the outer world are not only happening in philosophy and science fiction, but increasingly in the scientific community. Thinking about the “realness” of my outer world can twist my mind in a Gordian Knot if I am not careful. Yet, I must also take heed of the other extreme, namely over-belief in the outer world. Questioning the outer worlds’ existence generally comes from an intellectual position, not an experiential one. Experientially, the outer world feels certain. Much of my inner world does too. I tend to believe my thoughts and interpretations. Certainty feels good, and these feelings are often necessary for survival — doubting the realness of the world is not a trait that will likely contribute to many descendants.

We crave certainty in both of our worlds; so much that we fight for it when someone challenges our sense of it. While we like suspense, surprise, and mystery, we do not like to sit with these feelings indefinitely. We ultimately want resolution; we want certainty. This can drive us in positive ways to understand our experience, and to use that understanding to improve our existence. But, this craving for certainty has the potential to destroy us. We see evidence of this in political, religious and other interpersonal clashes. What happens when two sides both feel certain of incompatible positions? Certainty can block mutual understanding, empathy, giving others the benefit of the doubt, or meeting in the middle. These are essential diplomatic and interpersonal relationship skills.

I am trying to learn how to question my own certainty, and to live a life that can embrace uncertainty. The scientific method, an approach based on confirming or disconfirming hypotheses based on empirical evidence, may be the closest that we can get to certainty in a subjective world. It provides a structured way to dialogue and find consensus about our shared outer world. Yet, consensus is still lacking, even science is subject to biases and current paradigms. Humans are naturally stubborn and resistant to evidence that works against their beliefs, even when it might provide a better explanation.

population-2014There are over seven billion people in our consensual outer world, each possessing a different inner world; each providing a unique perspective on the outer world; each potentially at odds with many of the others; each feels their “truth” deeply, craves understanding, and desires some sense of connection. The interplay of these many worlds might not be survivable, but if we are going to make it, then we must learn how to live together between the inner and outer worlds. Science alone is not enough, we must also find ways to understand, abide, and share our bewildering inner worlds.

“I like the scientific spirit—the holding off, the being sure but not too sure, the willingness to surrender ideas when the evidence is against them: this is ultimately fine—it always keeps the way beyond open—always gives life, thought, affection, the whole man, a chance to try over again after a mistake—after a wrong guess.”

Walt Whitman


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Politics And Religion

Over the holidays I made a decision to loosen my tongue in reaction to a comment that ran counter to my political sensibilities. This conversation went awry, as these types of conversations often do, and I later regretted engaging the topic. I had a number of negative internal reactions including feeling judgmental, angry, misunderstood, defensive, hurt, and sad. I am fairly sure that the person I was speaking with had a similar set of reactions. Most of us have heard the adage that reminds us to avoid such topics as they can lead to conflict; however, people handle conflict in different ways and have different comfort levels with it. Some have ongoing outward and/or buried conflict, some avoid or withdraw from conflict, while others successfully work through conflict. Core differences between people easily lead to conflict, and how they are handled can have a strong impact on how close people feel to one another. Neither the conflict, nor the avoidance and disconnection feel good. I have often wished it was easier to engage with and communicate about these heartfelt issues in a way that did not feel bad. I believe that understanding subjectivity and engaging in dialogue diminish conflict and lead to greater empathy, though it is not easy. I, like most people, continue to be fooled by my perceptions that I am right and others are wrong.

After my initial feelings about my failed dialogue started to fade, and I was able to reflect with a “cooler head,” I recalled a summary of Jonathan Haidt’s book, The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided By Politics And Religion. This helped shift my thinking away from what we were arguing “about” towards what we were arguing “for” — a subtle shift that had a big impact. I was motivated to read Haidt’s book in order to better understand why it is so difficult for people to appreciate the viewpoints of their rivals.

Man is not a rational animal, he is a rationalizing animal.
— Robert A. Heinlein

cart_before_the_horse1Haidt argues that our rational explanations do not drive our moral judgments. Rather, they are post hoc fictions which make sense of our intuitions and help persuade others to join our “team.” (See also Pretty Good Stories and “Dark” Awareness). These “intuitive ethics” are built upon several innate psychological systems.

One of the most basic and oldest (from an evolutionary perspective) of these psychological systems stems from the revulsion reaction of disgust. (See also Contempt). While this emotion initially served to protect us from disease and contamination, over time it was elicited by others’ behavior — an early inkling of moral judgment. As mammals, we form tight bonds with our children, an instinct which has expanded beyond the family unit allowing for a capacity to feel empathy for all living things. The ability to form bonds allowed us to be social, and we developed the ability to form groups and coalitions. These coalitions usually involved some form of hierarchical organization where some group members would use their influence to take on leadership and others would defer to this leadership and/or power. Groups would develop rules and customs built around reciprocal altruism to maintain order and fairness. However to maintain stability they needed to deal with threats to their group’s integrity. One threat is from “freeloaders” who take advantage of the benefits of the group without contributing themselves. Another type of threat is from dominating or oppressive leaders. The process of natural selection has hardwired all of these systems into our subconscious minds which subsequently drive our emotions and our intuitive ethics.

Haidt and his colleagues focused their study on six moral foundations which, like moral taste receptors, flavor our judgments. Having a language for these foundations helps to clarify many of the cross-cultural, religious, and political differences that so often confuse us. Cultures implicitly construct their values, their representative stories, and their institutions upon these foundations. The six foundations, along with their targeted threat and basic value, are:

  1. Care/harm — cherishing and protecting others
  2. Fairness/cheating — justice according to shared rules
  3. Liberty/oppression — fighting tyranny
  4. Loyalty/betrayal — being true to your in-group
  5. Authority/subversion — respect for legitimate authority
  6. Sanctity/degradation — purity or abhorrence for disgusting things

Just as different foods draw upon different flavor combinations, different cultures have their unique “recipes.” This can easily be seen in political or religious cultures. Often two opposing cultures rely on the same foundation but with a different emphasis (e.g. pro-life individuals emphasize the sanctity of human life, while environmentalist emphasize the sanctity of the earth; different populist groups fight the tyranny of corporations or the tyranny of the government). Or they might emphasize a different foundation for different issues (e.g., conservatives might draw upon the sanctity foundation when fighting for the life of the unborn but draw upon the authority foundation or fairness foundation when fighting for enforcement of the death penalty). The in-group for each “culture” can also range widely — from the universal to much closer to home. Different in-groups and different foundations can lead to very different attitudes and sometimes very confusing and seemingly inconsistent behavior.

As in my “discussion,” much of the time we speak past one another because we see the other person’s position as wrong or immoral, and we feel compelled to convince them that ours is the best or more moral perspective. This is dangerous territory for a relationship — a slippery slope that leads to contempt. I still disagree with many positions that differ from my own; I still feel my perspective is better, but I understand, that like everyone else, I am hard-wired to have a “righteous mind.” I feel my beliefs and do not intuitively share my opponent’s beliefs — the feelings that back up their views are outside of my awareness. My rational mind can sometimes let me know when my “righteous mind” is acting up. The language of moral foundations is a great tool in this regard; it has helped to shift my perspective so I see more clearly what each of us is fighting for. This opens the door for empathy in a similar way that seeing the need behind an action can. As a species cursed to confuse our subjective perspective as objective, we need all the help we can get.

Haidt, J. (2012) The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided By Politics And Religion. New York: Pantheon. See the book’s website: RighteousMind.com


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Special Collections

Special CollectionLike a museum, each one of us collects, preserves, studies, exhibits and tries to stimulate appreciation for our life experience “relics.” Many are approved for the general public, others only for specific audiences, however each of us has a “special collection.” This collection stays protected and deeply hidden; it is not placed on public display, except in acts of betrayal by another. A person makes themselves extremely vulnerable when they open this vault to another person which is why it is closely guarded. This is where we store our secrets, deep hurts, trauma and shame. When shared, this buried history must be handled delicately, and only by another person who is deeply trusted — mishandling can incite significant relational stress.

Ironically, in some aspects, our special collections are discernible. These experiences have shaped us in profound ways — not all of which are conscious to us. When accessed we are transported to the emotional encounter that led us to hide it away in the first place. This may take the form of a memory, a flashback or just the associated emotion stripped of any cognitive connection to our personal history. In their concealment, they can have a “sealed in,” preserved quality to them that covertly influence our lives and interactions with others. We see them but may not recognize them in our reactions to triggering stimuli, due to how integrated our protective schemes are in our personality structures.

Activating triggers often occur in our intimate relationships. These individuals with their increased security clearances, unbeknownst to our conscious mind, may accidentally find themselves in our vault behaving like the proverbial “bull in a china shop.” Our self-protective instincts are immediately initiated to either shut the vault or to attack the trespasser. The more frequently this occurs the more trust is damaged and subsequently the need to maintain heightened security is reinforced. The trespasser often does not realize their misstep until the moment they trip the alarm and find themselves under attack or shut off. This reaction will frequently mobilize their own security system, leading to counter-attack or their own escape tactics. This is a common negative feedback loop for a relationship.

These encounters are inevitable; as much as we try to prevent them, they may be the only way to get to know our own special collections. The challenge is to shift out of subconscious self-protection and into conscious self-exploration. Having a compassionate and curious partner willing to co-investigate is important to this process. When we have such a partner, it is possible to carefully unpack and unseal these “artifacts” and expose them to the light of the present day.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Being / Seeking

The baby, assailed by eyes, ears, nose, skin, and entrails at once, feels it all as one great blooming, buzzing confusion; and to the very end of life, our location of all things in one space is due to the fact that the original extents or bignesses of all the sensations which came to our notice at once, coalesced together into one and the same space. — William James (1890)

120892My existence is mysterious to me, yet that I exist is my core reality. My existence integrates an experiencer with that which is experienced. My experiencer divides my experience into “external” and “internal” perceptual categories, which by convention I label as either objective (external) or subjective (internal).  Orienting towards my experience further divides the objective and subjective into seemingly inexhaustible perceptual phenomena. If I move toward the subjective, through my “inner world,” in the direction of the experiencer, I ultimately arrive at simple awareness. This seems to be the starting point of my existence, for here all my perceptions are subsumed since without awareness there is no experiencer. Without my experiencer, I have no experience, no existence. Awareness is my immediately available, experiential foundation, my existence. It is my source, the ground of my being.

When I maneuver away from my foundation of pure awareness, toward the “great blooming, buzzing confusion,” I feel unsettled because my source feels diluted in this mysterious array of experience. Making sense of this mystery is the impetus of science, religion, philosophy and speculation. In my own sense-making endeavor, I will inevitably diverge from all the other efforts to do the same. Nevertheless, I feel driven to make sense of this mystery to achieve a sense of coherence and to reconnect with the simplicity of my existence. I am ever seeking a state of connection, unity and oneness.

Do I continue seeking, dividing, sorting and rearranging? Or, is what I seek, right here, at one with me, inseparable and immediately available?

Could it be that simple?

Trial By Combat

A trial by combat, deciding a man’s guilt or innocence in the eyes of the gods by having two other men hack each other to pieces. Tells you something about the gods. ― Tyrion Lannister

TrialbyCombat

In the popular book and HBO television series, Game of Thrones, the character Tyrion Lannister, who has been accused of a capital offense, elects to have his fate decided by means of a trial by combat rather than by a council of lords.  Being a dwarf, who has little chance to overpower a much larger and more accomplished opponent, he chooses to be represented by a champion who will fight in his stead. Tyrion is in a vulnerable position and is desperate for a protector who is willing to fight to the death on his behalf.

I have discussed in recent posts the concept of executive operating systems (EOSs) that “drive” our body and brain in different directions, depending on the subconscious perception of the situation we are facing. When any particular EOS is active, our emotions, thoughts and motivations align in service of its evolved function (e.g., protection, nurturing). Since we are wired to survive our systems rapidly respond to any perceived threat. The same systems that orient us towards withdrawal or attack in response to mortal danger are likewise invoked in the face of relatively benign modern-day threats such as being cut off in traffic, being given poor service in a restaurant or in the midst of a family argument over household chores.

Couples counselors regularly witness trial by combat in their offices when romantic partners, who at times have loving feelings towards one another, suddenly bring forth their champions to defend their positions. Feeling emotionally vulnerable or wounded can elicit all manner of protectors to emerge. The defensive strategies employed by individuals in a relationship may vary, but when the partners interact under stress it is inevitably their preferred guardian EOS that is interacting. While not always a fight to the death, these encounters can leave both parties bruised, broken and even more sensitized to the next perceived slight, which triggers another cycle. The renowned relationship researcher, John Gottman, refers to this cycle as “negative affect reciprocity.” The ability to minimize these battles, escape from them once they have begun and repair the resultant damage is often the key to the relationship surviving.

Our instinct to survive is exactly what is triggered by our loved ones. Unfortunately, that instinct leads to an inhibition of empathy and sets us on a self-protective path rather than on a relationship-protective path. Orienting towards the relationship is counter-intuitive to our selected champion, as it involves exposing our vulnerability rather than shielding it. Healing a relationship caught up in negative affect reciprocity requires an environment that reduces the stress and reactivity so that the alternatives beyond fight or flight can emerge.

Relational battles are often heated (or chilled) debates between two individuals who desperately want to be seen, validated and cared for by the other. Feeling diminished, unappreciated or unloved can feel so threatening that any damage being inflicted in one’s own defense is deemed justifiable. One can be deeply wounded from active or passive defensive strategies. The interplay of fight or flight is inextricably tied together. This dance, which we so often find ourselves attending, cannot be won — it is a dance after all, and dancing is difficult when you are suited in armor.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

 

What if?

You are a function of what the whole universe is doing in the same way that a wave is a function of what the whole ocean is doing. 
― Alan Watts

UniversalMindThe existence of consciousness remains the greatest of mysteries. What if consciousness is not a byproduct of matter but the source of matter? What if a universal mind is the field that holds together our world of matter? … each speck of life, a unique portal through which this mind pours forth its creative impulses. A creativity that further blossoms as “matter” awakens to consciousness. “Awakened matter” ultimately notices itself as an object, and a sense of self is galvanized. Self grows cognizant of its awareness, and an unshared subjectivity is conceived. This individualized perspective can neither be replicated nor fully understood by another.

What if that perspective in us — which is aware, which notices and is our observing self — is universal mind seeing through the filter that is us with all our idiosyncratic characteristics? What if the world we notice “out there” is actually inside rather than outside — a dreamworld contained within universal mind? I, like many other seekers, desperately want to reify this mind of which I am comprised. Even naming it is a movement in this direction, but whatever is observing and experiencing through us, if it is singular, cannot be mentally captured any more than I can see my eyes with my eyes. We know this universal mind, this source of awareness, only through living and experiencing our unique perspective. Our life is this larger life, but embodied and limited in space and time.

If we believe a universal mind experiences through us, might it change the way we see ourselves and one another? Could we feel connected and unified rather than isolated and divided? Is it possible we would value ourselves and others in a more treasured way? Maybe we would be curious and open to others’ perspectives and less judgmental and intolerant. Perhaps compassion and love could flourish.

While it often seems that we dwell in separateness and look out at a world full of objects perhaps it is quite the opposite, and a knowing, experiencing and creative mind is “looking” within — seeing itself through myriad perspectives … a dynamic self with so many ways to experience, to interact … to be. Perhaps this self becomes so enamored and entangled in these multiple perspectives that in the midst of embodied experience it believes these dreams of separateness and loses a sense of unity.

Do we want “it” to wake up?

You are actually—if this is the way things started, if there was a big bang in the beginning— you’re not something that’s a result of the big bang. You’re not something that is a sort of puppet on the end of the process. You are still the process. You are the big bang, the original force of the universe, coming on as whoever you are. When I meet you, I see not just what you define yourself as—Mr so-and- so, Ms so-and-so, Mrs so-and-so—I see every one of you as the primordial energy of the universe coming on at me in this particular way. I know I’m that, too. But we’ve learned to define ourselves as separate from it. ― Alan Watts


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

Pick Your Poison

Clam 2

Life is difficult; we are here because we are surviving. All living creatures are vulnerable, and all have ways they protect themselves. Poison, camouflage, sharp teeth, speed, flight, claws, burrowing, strength, climbing, shells, intelligence, kindness, deception, social organization are but a few examples. Vulnerability and defense are yin and yang to one another. Since survival is not certain, our vulnerability becomes one of the elemental organizing principles of our existence. Much of who we are is a core of vulnerability enfolded by our protective strategies. The humble clam is a simple representation of these two aspects of our nature.

Our predicament is that we can only bond and grow close to others when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, yet vulnerability opens us to being wounded. Exposing our vulnerability can be one of the most terrifying moves we make, and our protective systems will sound the warning to terminate this action. Safety versus connection, how we negotiate this internal battle, sets the tone for how our life will be lived.

The battle is not so straightforward; connection reduces vulnerability and social isolation is one of the surest ways to undermine our health. Humans are a sophisticated pack animal with complicated social nuances to negotiate. Many of us get spurned, deemed unacceptable, a shocking impact which leads to a greater sense of vulnerability, which in turn leads to heightened protective measures. Ironically, these defenses often lead those most in need of connection to more social rejection or self-imposed isolation — an unfortunate self-reinforcing cycle.

However, the cycle rotates both ways. Risking can also lead to acceptance and communion, which allows the burdens of life to be distributed. Each companion can get reprieve to carry the load another day. This process strengthens the social bonds and reduces vulnerability. Defenses are softened leading to increased social accessibility.

So, pick your poison; you are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Seek safety to avoid vulnerability and risk isolation, increasing your vulnerability. Seek connection to avoid vulnerability and risk rejection, increasing your vulnerability. Or, negotiate the space between the rock and hard place to find the solace of interdependence. Succeeding in this negotiation and developing protective strategies that allow you to love and be loved may be the single most difficult but most important of your life’s endeavors. 


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Every Man Is An Island

…existentially speaking, that is. We are trapped in our own subjectivity and can’t fully escape. This is the “unbridgeable gulf between oneself and any other being,” (1) which Irvin Yalom refers to as existential isolation. This unbridgeable gulf can vary in size but it is always there.

The reality which our minds generate is infused with our experience, emotion and judgment; but this is generally invisible to us, and we are regularly fooled into believing that what we experience is THE TRUTH. We believe the gulf created by our subjectivity can be bridged by TRUTH, and we are lulled into debate as we try to convince others of THE TRUTH. This is chasing after the wind, a fools errand. All we can do is share from our observation point, our experience, our personal truth and hope that the other is willing to try and build a partial bridge towards us.

This partial bridge is built with empathy, a genuine willingness to attempt to enter into the experience of another. Empathy requires awareness that we are trapped in our own subjectivity, because only then do we understand that we actually have to wade through our own subjectivity and notice its interference in the bridge building process. Empathy is a process that inspires dialogue just as belief in TRUTH inspires debate. Empathy is imperfect bridge building that never completes the full span of the gulf. Nevertheless, a partial bridge creates the opportunity for connection, understanding and healing, something which most of us crave: a healing from the wounds of our isolation, disconnection and feeling unknown.

 

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant? — Henry David Thoreau

 

(1) Yalom, I. A., 1980. Existential Psychotherapy. New York: Basic Books, Inc.

 


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.