Tag: anxiety

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It Ain’t Easy Being Good: Living Well in Exhausting Times

Fresno Bee, March 17, 2024

It is not easy to live a good life. In fact, the difficulty of the task is what makes goodness worth pursuing. If you think it is easy to live well, you’ve misunderstood the nature of morality and the world. The anxiety of virtue is a fundamental feature of the project of living well.

A recent essay by Professor Travis Rieder in Time describes the present age as “morally exhausting.” Rieder says, “Modern life is morally exhausting. And confusing. Everything we do seems to matter. But simultaneously: nothing we do seems to matter.”

Rieder frets about whether drinking almond milk or driving an electric car does enough for the environment. He worries about whether it does any good to “boycott” artists by not watching them on Netflix. I don’t doubt that some people worry about such things. But we Americans are lucky that this is all we have to worry about. In Russia these days, moral courage can get you sent to Siberia or poisoned by the state.

At any rate, moral exhaustion and confusion are not bugs of modernity. Rather, this is a perennial feature of the pursuit of goodness. New technologies and new knowledge must be integrated into our moral lives. But it has always been difficult to be good.

Imagine, for example, the moral confusion of the followers of Socrates or Jesus, beloved leaders who were executed by the state. Or imagine the moral exhaustion of life in Nazi Germany or Cold War Eastern Europe. For that matter, imagine life today in Gaza, Haiti, or Russia. There are places on this earth where violence, deprivation and oppression threaten moral integrity as well as life itself.

From a historical vantage point, Professor Rieder’s worries about almond milk are quaintly bourgeois. The moral struggles of the American present pale in comparison to the struggles of our past. This continent has seen violent conflicts between colonizers and indigenous people. The American revolutionaries made a difficult moral choice to break away from their British cousins. And during the Civil War, neighboring states went to war over the morality of slavery and the identity of the Union.

Rieder uses his examples to point out that it often seems that individual choices have little impact on huge problems. This is true. Your individual dietary choices won’t stop climate change or change Hollywood. Nor will your single vote change the political dynamic of our country.

The fact of our smallness can lead to an existential crisis. It seems that nothing individuals do has much of an impact on the great big world. Recognizing your smallness can provoke anxiety and despair. It can also lead you to give up trying. If nothing you do will change things, then why bother?

But nihilism and neglect are forms of complicity. You should feel guilty if you stop trying to make things better. Your moral effort matters. You may not change the course of history. But your individual commitments are significant for you and for those who know you. History won’t remember your choices. But you have to live with them. Your friends will remember your words and deeds. Your life establishes a model for your colleagues and loved ones.

It can be tough to constantly worry about the morality of what you choose to eat, drive, watch and buy. It is also draining to worry about who gets elected, whether the wars we fund and fight are justified, and the daunting challenges of racism and climate change.

But the moral life is not supposed to be easy. It helps to develop good habits of ethical hygiene. You must practice kindness, gratitude, and truth-telling. It also helps to have good friends and mentors who keep you on the right path. But at the end of the day, each one of us has to choose what kind of life we want to live.

Luckily, most Americans are free to make these choices in a relatively stable environment. Even then, we all confront despair and anxiety. But morality requires tenacity and zest. It is hard work to live well. If you want to succeed in living well, it’s up to you to rise to the challenge.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article286716915.html#storylink=cpy

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Gratuitous Joy and the Tumult around Tipping

Fresno Bee, December 3, 2023

Americans are confused and conflicted about tipping. How much should you tip, and when? Is tipping an obligation or a gift? Is it a standard service charge, or a reward for excellent service?

Tipping lies somewhere in the murky middle, as a customary “gift” that is not obligatory. Even though tipping is not required, it can feel like an obligation. In many cases, you can’t pay the bill until you tip. This offends the Grinches among us, who dread the tipping screen. Some stingy Scrooges even dare to write a zero on the credit card receipt or refuse to finger that dreaded screen.

The most authentic gifts are spontaneous and unexpected. Gifts like this are “gratuitous,” which means freely given. That word is related to the word “gratuity,” which is a synonym for “tip.” A gratuity is not a service charge, since it is voluntary. Gratuitous also means excessive or even unwanted, as in the phrase “gratuitous violence.” A gratuity is supposed to be a beneficial gift. But there is a sense that it may be excessive.

Which leads to the question of how much to tip. What’s the right amount? Pundits have warned about “tip-flation,” as the entry level amount on some tipping screens often begins at 18% or 20%. The 15% tip of yesteryear now seems quaint and cheap.

Whatever the rate, isn’t it odd to base a tip on a percentage? If I order an expensive cocktail for $20 and a friend orders a beer for $5, the bartender does basically the same work in serving us. But at 20% my tip is $4 and his is only $1. The same service results in different tipping amounts. This makes no sense, which is why it is frustrating.

Human interaction works best when there are clear rules. We value steady and predictable behavior. And in our economy, we don’t haggle or give bribes. Instead, we expect transparent and fixed prices. But tipping doesn’t work like that. The rules for tipping are unspoken and unclear. Even the Scrooges will pay what they owe. But what exactly do we owe for the tip? We want to do the right thing with tipping, but we are not sure what that is.

It can help to know how other people tip. You might check out an interactive new website called “Tipping Point, USA,” from the Pew Research Center, that allows you to compare your tipping behavior with others. The Pew Center’s data suggest that most people only expect to tip 15%. According to that source, people tip at sit-down restaurants, when getting a haircut, and at bars. But people generally don’t tip at coffee shops or at restaurants where there are no servers.

This implies that tipping is a kind of service charge. But if it is a service charge, why don’t they just weave it into the price, rather than leaving it up to the consumer to figure out? Service workers would benefit if the service charge were predictable. And consumers would be happy to have the mystery removed.

And yet, we can also learn to embrace this mystery. Gift-giving is supposed to be joyful. Tipping could also be an opportunity for joy. Tipping is, after all, a chance to give a gift to a stranger. A change in perspective can help us see tipping in a more generous light. Instead of viewing the tip as a dreaded obligation, we can view the gratuity as a chance to be, well, gratuitous.

And now, since this is the Christmas season, let’s consider the possibility that gratuitous joy is, as they say, the reason for the season. The Christian story tells us that the birth of Jesus was a gratuitous gift. More generally, the spirit of the season is about the gladness of giving.

It is fun to surprise friends and family with unexpected gifts. It can be more thrilling to give to a stranger. Try it at the coffee shop next time. How would it feel to give a gratuity that exceeds what the tipping screen allows? If we view tipping as an opportunity to spread good cheer, dread can turn into delight, and our Grinchy hearts may learn to glow with gratuitous joy.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article282517838.html#storylink=cpy

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The wisdom of slowing down

Fresno Bee, September 10, 2023

Stop the mindless smartphone scrolling. Our souls long for a slower tempo.

Our world emphasizes speed. This is the age of artificial intelligence, smartphones and instant downloads. In this first-come, first-served culture, the early bird gets the worm. Who has time to ponder or reflect? We’re too busy flitting from one superficial thing to the next.

All of this speed and mobility may undermine our humanity. It contributes to loneliness and anxiety. Many good things require us to slow down, rather than speed up. Wisdom is not quick. Neither is love. The best things in life dwell in a time apart, lingering in slowness.

But artificial intelligence and related technologies push an ever more frantic pace. The speed of the stimuli on our screens can explain some of the negative mental health impacts of social media, video games and other technologies. Our brains are not meant to go this fast. Our souls long for a slower tempo. Human relationships need time to ripen, and genuine happiness is not instant gratification.

Now, sometimes speed is a good thing. Quick computers can churn through data and solve many problems. It is much more efficient to Google information than to go to a library and search the indexes of books on dusty shelves. Social media, online news apps and video games can be useful and fun. We can stay in touch with distant friends. We have immediate access to the latest news. And your phone contains multiple sources of instant gratification.

But moderation is needed. Scrolling for thrills is not the same as digging deep. We don’t build wisdom or friendships with a swipe on a screen. We need time for thinking, solitude and soul searching.

The novelist Milan Kundera lamented the lost pleasure of slowness in his novel “Slowness” where he suggests that we need time to “gaze at God’s windows.” He says, “There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting.” Speed causes us to forget who we are and what we value. We’re not sure where we’re going. But we’ll get there quickly.

Our bodies and brains evolved in a slower era. Our ancestors needed to think quickly on occasion to escape predators or hunt. But when the sun went down, they contemplated the stars and shared stories and songs. These ancient works of imagination unfolded at a pace that was rooted in the tempo of our beating hearts. With this in the background, it’s no wonder that most of the world’s wisdom traditions emphasize tranquility, patience, calmness and slowness.

The ancient sages took time to gaze deeply into God’s windows, and into their own souls. Socrates was well known for wandering and wondering. He would sometimes come to a halt as he walked through Athens, completely lost in thought.

In Asian traditions, the practice of meditation aims to cultivate slowness. The Buddha saw restlessness as an impediment to wisdom. The solution is to calm the mind and its restless agitation.

You don’t have to be Socrates or the Buddha to understand that many of the most meaningful human activities are best experienced slowly. This is true of grieving, making love and enjoying art. We can’t set a timer for grief or for love. The pace of these things transcends the frantic tempo of ordinary life, reflecting the patience of tender intimacy. To insist that Mozart or Shakespeare should speed things up is to misunderstand the nature of their art.

Philosophers describe things that are enjoyed slowly as “ends-in-themselves” valued for their own sake. These experiences represent moments of completion and fulfillment. Some people even sigh, and say of certain beautiful moments that they want them to last forever. This is also true of life itself. If you love life, you want it to last. Life is enjoyed for its own sake, and those who say that it is better to live fast and die young have probably not thought it over.

But the sages who have thought deeply about these things tell us that we need to relax our pace. The best and most important things — love, beauty and wisdom — are not quick or immediate. If you want to find these goods, you must slow down.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article279063134.html#storylink=cpy

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Anxiety is the spice of life

Tranquility is often viewed as the goal of spiritual training. But serenity is not the only thing that matters in life. Conflict is productive. Struggle is exciting. And anxiety is the spice of life.

Arthur Brooks wrote an essay recently pointing out that suffering, unhappiness, and anxiety are unavoidable experiences. He was responding to the apparent growth of mental health disorders, including a recent increase in depression and anxiety. This is alarming. And I don’t intend to minimize the problem.

But there is some wisdom to be learned from the world’s wisdom traditions, and from how we imagine a good life. Here’s the point: life is difficult. The key to living well is not to find a peace place and to avoid conflict and struggle. Rather, the goal is to manage conflict and create a harmonious whole.

Dialing in the virtues

In his essay, Brooks asks us to see that our emotions are not regulated by simple on-off switches. Rather, they are like dials. They can be adjusted upward or downward. The goal of living well is to adjust these dials and to balance our emotions with one another.

I would add that this is also true of the virtues. The four Platonic virtues—justice, courage, moderation, and wisdom—are not binary switches. Rather, they are like dials that are adjusted in relation to the world. The virtues must also be balanced with each other. Aristotle reminds us that the key to happiness is to find the right amount of a virtue, at the right time, and in the right way.

A familiar example involves courage. Would we say that a criminal is couragous when he robs a bank? Not really. Courage does not occur in isolation. It must be connected to the other virtues. Sometimes courage needs to be dialed up: say when you need to defend what’s good and what’s true. But at other times, it needs to be dialed down: when you are selfish, resentful, and mean.

In the Greek tradition, wisdom helps us adjust the dials. But there is no recipe or rule that helps us figure out how best to adjust these dials. This is more art than science, which leads us to a culinary and aesthetic metaphor.

Cooking up wisdom

The challenge—and the fun—of adjusting our dials is obvious for anyone who is familiar with music or with cooking. Consider the process of cooking, eating, and drinking. The pleasures of dining involve contrasts and balance. Red wine is good with pungent cheeses. Hot chilis pair well with lime and sweets. A delicious meal involves the interplay of lots of flavors, textures, and smells. And these unfold over time—from the appetizer to desert.

Life is like a complex meal. There are spicy parts, and mellow times, salt and vinegar, sweetness and light. The key is balance. But also play and innovation.

So too with music. A single note is boring, as is a simple rhythm. Symphonic music and jazz demonstrate the joy and beauty of complex harmonizing. The bass line runs in contrast to the melody. The chords change. Those changes include dissonance, odd little grace notes, and tonic resolution. There are slow movements, staccato outbursts, and groovy backbeats. Sometimes there is a key change. Other times the bridge introduces a whole new concept.

What if we viewed our lives as musical compositions? We would strive for a complex balance of fast and slow, resolution and dissonance. Sometimes life is marked by sad blue notes. Other times it rings like a bold major chord. The goal is to weave it all together with a sense of harmony.

Harmony v. tranquility

The goal of life is not, then, to rest quietly, serenely, and in peace. Some spiritual traditions do seem to point in that direction. We might imagine a monk alone on a mountaintop, sitting in quiet contemplation.

But that vision is other-worldly, and inhuman. It takes us to a summit far removed from the joys and the sorrows, the anxieties and loves of real human life. A life well-lived includes fear, sorrow, and grief. Those are necessarily components of a life that includes ambition, love, and compassion. The key is to dial these things up in the right way and in the right amounts.

If you love others and yourself, there will be anxiety and sadness. Love exposes us. When others hurt, you hurt as well. This is appropriate, and real. If you love yourself, there will also be anxiety. Our goals and ambitions matter. It is good to feel proud of what you’ve achieved and who you are. It is also right to feel resentful when the world turns against you. And it is appropriate to feel sad, when the world disappoints.

The challenge of a life well-lived is to weave anxiety and sadness into a harmonious whole. Life includes a variety of ingredients: joy and worry, sorrow and pride, love and grief. We don’t control everything that life gives us. But we can adjust the dials. Every life will include substantial amounts of bitter seasoning.  The goal is not to stop eating, or to live in quiet serenity. Rather, we ought to aim to create a symphony of the sweet and the spicy.

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Defusing Covid Anxiety and Climate Worry

Fresno Bee, December 19, 2021

COVID restrictions are coming back. And climate change is wreaking havoc. It is easy to get depressed.

New categories of psychological affliction have appeared. Worries about the climate generate “eco-anxiety” and “ecological grief.” And “COVID anxiety syndrome” has emerged. A recent New York Times column maintains that COVID anxiety is plaguing the globe.

Political dysfunction contributes to despair. The scientists know what we ought to do. But politics prevents us from doing it. Vaccines and masks are refused. And the oil pushers keep us addicted to fossil fuels.

Growing anxiety is especially hard on young people. A new UC Berkeley grad was recently quoted as saying that health crises and climate catastrophes have led her to not want children. She said, “it would be wrong to bring someone into that chaos, without their consent.” I’ve heard similar sentiments from my students.

This is a sad result. Young people are typically a source of optimism and energy. But today’s youth are afraid of the future.

In response, we might point out that the future has always been scary. My generation grew up during the Cold War. Many of us expected nuclear winter to destroy life on earth. Nuclear weapons remain an ominous threat to humanity. But as you grow older, you learn that each generation has its crises.

You also learn that solutions to big problems require painstaking and tenacious effort. Social change does not happen overnight. The American revolution lasted seven years. It took another four score and seven years to abolish slavery. We are still working on racism and inequality.

Realizing that history moves slowly can alleviate angst. A culture of instant gratification fuels anxiety. If we don’t get what we want, we freak out. But history is not like DoorDash. It moves at its own pace.

Patience is especially important when dealing with epidemics and diseases. Colds and flus have to run their course. Immunity takes time to develop. It helps to know that prior pandemics were not cured overnight. The Spanish flu epidemic of the early 20th century blazed for at least two years. The Black Plague ravaged humanity for decades in the middle of the 14th century. It continued to recur for centuries.

The Earth’s climate unfolds across even larger time scales. The Earth was once covered with ice. At other times, it was much hotter. What’s “normal” for us is not what’s normal for the Earth.

Humans thrive under present conditions. But homo sapiens only emerged a few hundred thousand years ago. Our species will go extinct, like most other species. That’s just the way it goes. It doesn’t help to fret about it.

But it does help to recall how resilient and adaptable we are. Our ancestors left the warmth of Africa and migrated across the globe. When we encountered cold climates, we invented clothing and furnaces. When we settled in hot, dry places, we invented irrigation and air conditioning. We’ve visited the ocean’s depths, Mount Everest, and the moon. We also invented vaccines and solar panels.

We’ll adapt to COVID-19 and to the changing climate. Yet those adaptations are at the level of the species. Our individual choices matter for our personal survival. But evolution does not care about our individual choices. So don’t waste too much energy worrying about the survival of humanity or civilization.

In general, it’s wise to stop fretting. It is not healthy to dwell on disaster or ruminate on impending doom. The ancient Stoics advise us to stop worrying about things that are not in our control. The climate, the pandemic, the political world, and the course of history are simply not up to me.

This does not mean we should stop being prudent. Choose wisely with regard to your own body and behavior. Wear a mask. And get vaccinated. But stop fretting about other people’s choices. And lower your expectations about a return to “normal,” whatever that is.