Category Archives: personal psychology (Roger W. Smith observations re)

meddlers

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Aux confederations, qui ne tiennent que par un bout, on n’a à prouvoir qu’aux imperfections, qui particulierement interessent ce bout là. Il ne peut chaloir de quelle religion soit mon medecin, & mon advocat ; cette consideration n’a rien de commun avec les offices de l’amitié, qu’ils me doivent. Et en l’accointance domestique, que dressent avec moy ceux qui me servent, j’en fay de mesmes : & m’enquiers peu d’un laquay, s’il est chaste, je cherche s’il est diligent : & ne crains pas tant un muletier joueur qu’imbecille : ny un cuisinier jureur, qu’ignorant. Je ne me mesle pas de dire ce qu’il faut faire au monde ; d’autres assés s’en meslent : mais ce que j’y fay.

In confederations that hold but by one end, we are only to provide against the imperfections that particularly concern that end. It can be of no importance to me of what religion my physician or my lawyer is; this consideration has nothing in common with the offices of friendship which they owe me; and I am of the same indifference in the domestic acquaintance my servants must necessarily contract with me. I never inquire, when I am to take a footman, if he be chaste, but if he be diligent; and am not solicitous if my muleteer be given to gaming, as if he be strong and able; or if my cook be a swearer, if he be a good cook. I do not take upon me to direct what other men should do in the government of their families, there are plenty that meddle enough with that, but only give an account of my method in my own.

— Michel de Montaigne, “De l’Amitié” (Of Friendship)

 

“The object of this Essay is to assert one very simple principle, as entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the means used be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the moral coercion of public opinion. That principle is, that theMichel de Montaigne, “De l’Amitié” (Of Friendship)sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for compelling him, or visiting him with any evil, in case he do otherwise. To justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must be calculated to produce evil to someone else. The only part of the conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.”

— John Stuart Mill, “On Liberty”

 

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As John Stuart Mill says, one should be able to feel that one is entitled to live one’s life as one sees fit without “the moral coercion of public opinion.” It could be a matter of “big issues” of morality or overall behavior, or smaller issues such as behavior manifested in one’s family or personal relationships or personal matters such as appearance, dress, health, and the like.

And, often “public opinion” amounts to the thoughts (read presuppositions) of a narrow minded friend, neighbor, coworker, or relative.

Consider the following.

One of the best friends of my wife and myself is a married man with an adopted son; he has been a friend of ours forever.

I admire him greatly for his intellect and personal qualities.

He has a horrible family situation: great difficulties with his adopted son, such as the son refusing to attend school a few years ago and emotional outbursts.

The worst thing is his wife. She treats him horribly. He almost never complains (to us or from what we can observe), but we observe it all the time.

I often ask my wife, how can he put up with such treatment? (The adopted son takes cues from his mother and also treats his father, our friend, abusively.)

I always qualify what I say to her and add: It’s his family and marriage; he chooses to remain in it. It’s not for us to say.

We are very sympathetic about his situation but would never comment further unless he should ask for feedback; he is not a complainer.

It seems that situations often arise where someone whom one knows well is in a situation which you (i.e., the observer, the other party) would not approve of whatsoever if it were your life or situation. The reality may be complicated; the other party may be conflicted over the situation themselves and unsure about how to deal with it, but meddling by others (who usually have only a nodding acquaintance with the details) may increase their anxiety and make them even more uncomfortable.

Along these lines, I was thinking: Imagine a sort of inquiry board or truth commission before which all and sundry were required to appear, with everyone being subjected to the same questions:

the state of your marriage(s);

your performance in parenting;

the success or lack of it of your progeny; their adjustment and any developmental issues.

Think a few poor souls might be squirming under such scrutiny?

 

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Some further thoughts.

Constructive, helpful advice, originating with empathy, founded upon kindness, is one thing.

But beware meddlers posing as concerned do-gooders, who are intent upon proving their own moral superiority — their overall superiority to others whose lives they are critical of.

They can actually be some of the meanest people on the planet. They are usually worse morally than the people they pick on. They have zero capacity for compassion or empathy, and they don’t care in the least about other people.

Middle class morality … do-gooders … meddlers. Perhaps there is a place for them in the grand scheme.

Not in this case, nor, I would suspect, in most.

 

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Addendum:

Another problem, the bane of one’s existence (or at least some people’s), is health meddlers.

They enjoy inquiring about your health, without your having asked for advice; and then continually pestering you about it. Have you had a checkup for _______ (some condition or other)?

Often, they suffer from similar problems themselves. By focusing attention on you, they seem to be hoping to divert it from themselves and to somehow make themselves feel better. It doesn’t matter what your actual condition is, or whether or not you are worried about it, they will do the worrying for you. Did you know your weight is above normal for your height and your age? Are you monitoring your blood pressure? You may be at risk for a stroke.

People love to give advice about doctors and treatments. One of the most boring things is to hear a detailed story about how they overcame a back condition that was preventing them from playing golf, or about the cancer treatment some friend of theirs whom you don’t know had, causing the cancer to go into remission, and “he’s been healthy for the past ten years.” You are wondering about how this relates to you, since, as far as you know (pray God), you don’t have cancer; and, it’s a heartwarming story, but you never met or have heard of the person before, so it’s hard to relate to. There are thousands of people dying from cancer every month.

This cohort can actually cause stress with their meddling, and, believe me, unless you happen to be looking for a recommendation from a friend of a doctor they know and like, their meddling will do you no good whatsoever.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   July 2017; updated April 2018

“don’t misbehave”

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A couple of years ago, I went back to my hometown, Canton, Massachusetts, for a high school reunion and visited an old friend. It was great to see him.

We got to talking briefly about our old school and our teachers. Our friendship had begun in the seventh grade.

My friend told me that in our elementary school, one of the teachers hit him one day — he didn’t know why. She whacked him across the face. My friend was not a great student (he was actually of above average intelligence), but he was not a bad kid. He could occasionally be mischievous, but his “sins” would probably pale in comparison to what some kids do today. I do recall one time that he got in a lot of trouble with the school authorities for writing an obscene word on a piece a paper that he either accidentally or on purpose dropped on the floor and that was found by a teacher.

 

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My friend said that, on the day he was whacked by the teacher, he told his father about it when the latter came home from work that evening. He said to his father, “Mrs. _______ hit me today.”

His father asked him why the teacher had hit him. He said he didn’t know why.

“Well, don’t misbehave,” his father said.

 

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I was thinking about this incident and its implications. It seems to reflect parental attitudes very different from nowadays.

Few will agree with me, I suspect, and I wasn’t the affected student or the son of this particular parent. Nevertheless, I do not think that one should jump to conclusions about how my friend’s father responded.

I think he may have — note I say may because I was not involved and my friend merely gave a bare factual account; I am not sure how he himself feels about this incident in retrospect — actually handled the situation well. By which I mean to say that not knowing what had occurred, the father assumed his son might have been misbehaving. He would have, it seems, had some basis for thinking so.

 

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I knew my friend’s father well. He was a soft spoken, kindly man. He worked in a factory. He was, from what I and my own parents could observe, a loving parent.

The message he conveyed to his son was, don’t do anything that might get you in trouble.

This was actually good (tacit) advice, because — although my friend was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a “bad kid” — I know that he could be mischievous at times (which I think was probably a result of his being bored and restless in school), and he did get in trouble on at least one occasion, as I have noted above, where school administrators were on his case. So, actually, his father may have been trying to help him with the best advice he could.

Given what happened (I realize that it was no doubt hurtful to my friend, since he remembers it), I don’t think my friend’s father handled it badly. He didn’t freak out. He tacitly sent a message that may have actually been good for my friend to hear: don’t antagonize your superiors.

Do you think the case would be handled the same today? I doubt it. Parents are always crying “foul” and assuming that their children can do no wrong. When I was growing up, a premium was put on behavior, and adults were assumed to be right. I am not an advocate of corporal punishment, and I am not advocating a return to the days of schooling such as is depicted in George Orwell’s autobiographical essay “”Such, Such Were the Joys … .” I am merely trying to point out — the thought occurred to me — that sometimes parents can be more helpful to children by cautioning them to conform and submit to strictures rather than to defy or complain about them.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  October 2016; updated February 2018

 

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Addendum: The pedant in me gaining the upper hand, I can’t resist showing off. I wonder how many people know where the title of Orwell’s essay came from. It is from a line in William Blake’s poem “The Ecchoing Green.” I took a wonderful course in Blake with the revered professor and poet Allen Grossman at Brandeis University.

when in doubt, assume a greater, rather than lesser, degree of intelligence

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Roger’s theorem (or perhaps a corollary).

When in doubt, assume a greater, rather than lesser, degree of intelligence.

Talk UP to people; not DOWN. And, besides the admonition don’t talk down to people , if in doubt, assume a greater degree of intelligence, relatively speaking, than what you might expect.

You will often be surprised that

they appreciate being treated as a discerning and intelligent person

they reveal interests and capabilities you would never have suspected

they feel gratitude at being “taking into your confidence” through the sharing of interests, and that you consider them deserving of it

you both feel enriched

 

— Roger W. Smith

  February 2018

Preadolescence

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Roger and Eddie Rizzo, Provincetown

me (R) and my Cambridge friend Eddie Rizzo (L), Provincetown, MA, mid-1950’s

 

“Even where the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.”

— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (Chapter 24)

 

“The startling change in preadolescence is that egocentricity, [the] concentration on one’s own satisfactions and securities and the wonderful techniques at one’s disposal for obtaining them, now ceases to be the primary goal in living. The thing that seems most important now is the using of all these techniques to draw closer to another person. It is what matters to this other person, the chum, that is of the utmost importance. In other words, here is the first appearance of the need for intimacy–for living in great harmony with someone else. … When [the preadolescent] discovers that life cannot really be complete without an increasing closeness and harmony with someone else, he begins to develop quite rapidly a personal interest in the larger world.

— Harry Stack Sullivan, The Psychiatric Interview

 

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Below, following some introductory remarks of my own, are excerpts from the writings of the psychiatrist-psychoanalyst Harry Stack Sullivan.

A gifted writer who is a pleasure to read. A psychiatrist with great acumen and insight.

I do not pretend to any particular or special knowledge. The reason for this post is that I find what Sullivan says hits home and conforms to my own recollections and impressions of my preadolescent years.

 

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A word or two about my own experience of childhood, in terms of, and related to, what Sullivan says.

The preadolescent stage of development seems to have begun for me at around age nine or ten. Prior to that, I was very attached to my mother.

When my preadolescent phase began, without my being aware, consciously, of what was happening, I suddenly became very interested in “guy things,” which is to say things that boys are supposed to be interested in. Baseball, for example.

I hadn’t paid any attention to baseball before, didn’t even know the rules of the game. Suddenly, I was totally interested in it on every level, as a would be player and a zealous Boston Red Sox fan.

Where Sullivan’s writing strikes home for me is that he seems to be right on target when he talks about the importance of having a preadolescent friendship with a child of the same sex, a “chum.”

I actually had four chums, all of whom lived within a block of me in Cambridge, Massachusetts: four boys the same age as me. Three of them were of Irish ancestry; the fourth was of Italian ancestry.

They all came from Catholic families, whereas my parents were Protestant.

The friendships that we formed were very intense. They seemed to mean everything to me at the time — to rival and almost surpass the importance of my family relationships.

We had great freedom of intercourse, by which I mean discussion and sharing of ideas.

No topic was out of bounds. We were too young to be discussing sex or sexual topics. But we talked and argued about all sorts of things and nothing was considered to be out of bounds. This freedom to talk and share was very important to my mental development.

There were frequent arguments among us, about religion, for example. My friends all seemed convinced that I was going to go straight to Hell, eventually.

Once, we argued over whether a white man should be allowed to marry a black woman. I held liberal views, which — prior to getting into this argument — I barely knew I had. My friends ridiculed my views. A nice thing was — although we disagreed vehemently and although I was taken aback to see how contemptuous they were of my views — no grudges were held. The arguments of this nature which we had, constantly, were forgotten almost immediately and that was the end of it.

We debated about the 1956 election. My friends were all on the other side.

We shared all kinds of stories and information. Sports lore, snippets of knowledge about miscellaneous and sometimes arcane subjects, tall tales, baseball cards, comic books, and other hobbies and interests.

I was learning all the time, as an ongoing thing, to share with others, to care for others, to consider their views. (All of these are things Sullivan discusses.)

To value friends. To appreciate their strengths, their good points. To learn to put up with their shortcomings, pigheadedness, occasional stupidity, intellectual limitations, and prejudices.

Since this time, I have always greatly appreciated people, placed great value on friendship. Don’t forget friends, try not to neglect them. Make it a point not to overlook or underestimate them.

Try to be fair in evaluating them as persons, trying to see them in the round and not overlook their good points when something about them annoys me.

With longstanding friends, including those from the past, I tend to never forget what I owe them.

These preadolescent friendships also gave me the opportunity to set up another, alternative “belief system” different from that of my parents, to be able to look at things differently, to perhaps overcome and reevaluate things that I needed to think over and evaluate for myself. (Sullivan comments briefly about this.)

Though I have long since lost contact, I have never forgotten these four core friends of mine.

All of these are things that Sullivan, with uncanny perception, knew and wrote about.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   March 2016; reposted January 2018

 

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Addendum:

Harry Stack Sullivan on Preadolescence

 

At the end of the juvenile era, another great developmental change appears. This may occur anywhere between the ages of eight and a half and ten, or even later. … The change which ends the juvenile era is rather startlingly abrupt–that is, it is a matter of weeks. … The change is this: One of those compeers of the same sex, who has been so useful in teaching the juvenile how to live among his fellows, begins to take on a peculiar importance. He is distinguished from others like him by the fact that his views, his needs, and his wishes seem to be really important: he begins to matter almost as much, or quite as much, as does the juvenile himself; and with this, the juvenile era ends and the phase of preadolescence begins. This person who becomes so important is ordinarily referred to as a chum, and he matters even when he isn’t there, which is quite unlike anything that happened in the juvenile era.

During preadolescence, certain dramatic developments, which are probably necessary to elevate the person to really human estate, move forward with simply astounding speed. During this brief period, which may precede puberty by a matter of only weeks, or, more commonly, months, there is an acceleration of development, which, if one likes to think physiologically, may reflect the oncoming puberty change. Be that as it may, in the new-found importance of another person, there is a simply revolutionary change in the person’s attitude toward the world. Thus far, regardless of his parents’ fond belief in his utter devotion to them, and regardless of his ability to get along with his compeers, it is measurably correct to say that the young human has been extraordinarily self-centered. The startling change in preadolescence is that this egocentricity, this concentration on one’s own satisfactions and securities and the wonderful techniques at one’s disposal for obtaining them, now ceases to be the primary goal in living. The thing that seems most important now is the using of all these techniques to draw closer to another person. It is what matters to this other person, the chum, that is of the utmost importance. In other words, here is the first appearance of the need for intimacy–for living in great harmony with someone else. Because the need for intimacy makes the other fellow and living in harmony with him of such importance, a great deal of attention is paid to how he thinks and “feels,” to what he likes and dislikes; and from this more careful observation of the other is gathered a great deal of data on the rest of the world. … When … he discovers that life cannot really be complete without an increasing closeness and harmony with someone else, he begins to develop quite rapidly a personal interest in the larger world.

I believe that the best grasp on the problems of life that some people ever manifest makes its appearance in these preadolescent two-groups. Such comprehension is often horribly unlettered and in woefully undocumented form, but it includes a remarkable awareness of another person and a quite astonishing ability to reveal oneself to that other. … [T]he brief epoch of preadolescence very often represents the maximum achievement of a particular person, as far as a constructive interest in the welfare of the world is concerned.

— Harry Stack Sullivan, The Psychiatric Interview, pp. 135-37

 

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In the … phase of preadolescence, in the company of one’s chum, one finds oneself more and more able to talk about things which one had learned, during the juvenile era, not to talk about. This relatively brief phase of preadolescence, if it is experienced, is probably rather fantastically valuable in salvaging one from the effects of unfortunate accidents up to then.

Just as the juvenile era was marked by a significant change–the development of the need for compeers, for playmates rather like oneself–the beginning of preadolescence is equally spectacularly marked, in my scheme of development, by the appearance of a new type of interest in another person. These changes are the result of maturation and development, or experience. This new interest in the preadolescent era is not as general as the use of language toward others was in childhood, or the need of similar people as playmates was in the juvenile era. Instead, it is a specific new type of interest in a particular member of the same sex who becomes a chum or a close friend. This change represents the beginning of something very like full-blown, psychiatrically defined love. In other words, the other fellow takes on a perfectly novel relationship with the person concerned: he becomes of practically equal importance in all fields of value. Nothing remotely like that has ever appeared before. … [I]f you will look very closely at one of your children when he finally finds a chum-somewhere between eight-and-a-half and ten–you will discover something very different in the relationship–namely, that your child begins to develop a real sensitivity to what matters to another person. And this is not in the sense of “what should I do to get what I want,” but instead “what should I do to contribute to the happiness or to support the prestige and feeling of worth-whileness of my chum.” So far as I have ever been able to discover, nothing remotely like this appears before the age of, say, eight-and-a-half, and sometimes it appears decidedly later.

Thus the developmental epoch of preadolescence is marked by the coming of the integrating tendencies which, when they are completely developed, we call love, or, to say it another way, by the manifestation of the need for interpersonal intimacy. … Intimacy is that type of situation involving two people which permits validation of all components of personal worth. Validation of personal worth requires a type of relationship which I call collaboration, by which I mean clearly formulated adjustments of one’s behavior to the expressed needs of the other person in the pursuit of increasingly identical–that is, more and more nearly mutual-satisfactions, and in the maintenance of increasingly similar security operations. … In preadolescence not only do people occupy themselves in moving toward a common, more-or-less impersonal objective, such as the success of “our team,” or the discomfiture of “our teacher,”* as they might have done in the juvenile era, but they also, specifically and increasingly, move toward supplying each other with satisfactions and taking on each other’s successes in the maintenance of prestige, status, and all the things which represent freedom from anxiety, or the diminution of anxiety.

Because one draws so close to another, because one is newly capable of seeing oneself through the other’s eyes, the preadolescent phase of personality development is especially significant in correcting autistic, fantastic ideas about oneself or others. … [I]n preadolescence we come to the final component of the really intimidating experience of loneliness–the need for intimate exchange with a fellow being, whom we may describe or identify as a chum, a friend, or a loved one–that is, the need for the most intimate type of exchange with respect to satisfactions and security.

— Harry Stack Sullivan, The Interpersonal Theory of Psychiatry, pp. 227, 245-62, 264-65, 268

* This is funny. — editorial comment. Roger W. Smith

 

 

 

afraid of commitment … and death

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During my lifetime, I have benefited from having friends whom I met in all sorts of ways, from school to work to many other venues; and from having friends who have ranged from the conventional and successful to unconventional individuals who have, in various ways, broadened my outlook and knowledge of people and life, and, also, have often introduced me to ideas and various things that I would never have otherwise encountered.

B_______ was one of my unconventional friends. (I guess practically everyone has a few.) We met in my workplace, although we did not actually have the same employer. He was a sort of subcontractor.

B_______ was older than me by over a decade. Yet age never mattered. We clicked from the get go.

B_______ did not live the conventional life of a middle class striver, although he had been raised, apparently, in a conventional middle class home by WASP parents. I believe his father was a bookkeeper or accountant, or some such job, and worked for several years for a municipal agency. His grandfather was a Yale graduate, and his family was a prominent one.

To give an idea of how he defied convention — to what extent (and here, I should say, that he was never a rebel; he was unconventional in lifestyle and thoughts, but was not the kind of person who acted outwardly defiant; furthermore, he was not a radical or political person) — an amusing story might be apropos. He told me (he had come to young adulthood in the 1950’s) that an aunt of his said to him: “I know what you are. You’re a beatnik!”

B______ didn’t mind this remark. He told me, “I am a beatnik.” He also used to say to me, “I live in a slum and I like it.” At that time (which was the time when I first met him), he was a city dweller.

When one thinks of a beatnik, one thinks of a guy with a beard who is perhaps given to making comments to discomfit unhip squares. B_______ wasn’t at all what one would think of as the Jack Kerouac type. He wasn’t a good dresser (he got his clothes at thrift shops), but he was clean cut and in no way dressed, talked, or acted in such a way as to call attention to himself. He was extremely courteous and was well spoken.

B_______ absolutely did not believe in medicine or doctors. He had no bank account. He was very into New Age stuff. He had several sessions (called readings) with a psychic. She told B______ about his prior lives, going back to the Middle Ages (he had been a monk, she said). He believed this absolutely.

 

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Despite all the things that I found interesting about my unconventional friend, and despite my welcoming and appreciating his friendship, I came to realize over time that he had his limitations. (Don’t we all?)

He was an only child. I would guess that he didn’t have much contact with other kids. He rarely talked about his upbringing or parents.

I was impressed (perhaps too much) by B_______’s open, inquisitive mind. Everything was intuition. When I was younger, his rambling thoughts intrigued me. But he was intellectually lazy.

He would tell me, for example, that according to something he had read, you could learn things from a book by putting the book under your pillow and sleeping on it. He believed this.

He preferred to live in an abstract, theoretical realm. He did not like to be tied or nailed down by facts.

If you were in a discussion with him, and wanted to get analytical, or, say, had contradictory evidence, he wasn’t interested in hearing it. He had an interesting mind, in many respects, totally unconventional, yet, as I say, interesting. But once he formed an opinion, there was no way you could change his mind or thinking, no matter how much evidence or what counterarguments you might use. He wasn’t listening.

One little example. B_______ never studied foreign languages. He did not have the initiative or patience for that type of endeavor. (He attended college briefly but dropped out.) Once I was telling him how I had grown to love an oratorio by Berlioz, L’enfance du Christ. He was interested. (If you introduced a topic likely to appeal to B_______, he could be very interested. But if not, he would be bored and make no effort.) We discussed it a bit and I told him the title in English meant “the childhood of Christ.”

Whenever B_______, who not well educated by conventional standards (although he went to an excellent prep school; he was a college dropout) , got a shred of information, he was proud of it. He didn’t know any foreign languages, but he was familiar with the film Les enfants terribles (1950, based on Cocteau’s novel). So B_______ knew the word enfants, and that enfants meant children.

Well, enfants and enfance are pronounced the same. So, when I said “l’enfance du Christ,” B______ suggested that the title of the film might mean “the children of Christ.” No, I explained, that was not the case. He seemed disappointed, skeptical, and a tad annoyed. I don’t think he quite believed me.

He found his parents to be way too strict and developed a habit of stubborn non-compliance. He was a Peter Pan.

His attitude towards women was a mystery to me. He could get along with women such as friends’ girlfriends or spouses or women that he would encounter in an intellectual or professional context, but he seemed to completely avoid intimate relationships and appeared to be completely against letting it happen.

Despite his original mind, there were some places he just wouldn’t go in discussion. He had no use for psychological or psychiatric stuff.

 

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One shouldn’t make snap judgments or draw superficial conclusions about people. But I have thought about B_______ over the years as I have matured; have gained more life experience and practical wisdom; and, most importantly, have assumed adult responsibilities.

My wife has given me critical insights about B_______. I asked how she would explain certain things about him. She said he was a perennial boy who never grew up in most respects. He was afraid of COMMITMENT, of committing himself to certain obligations and to adult relationships. This latter realization was my own. I have so thought for a long time. He has avoided adult responsibilities and marriage and children.

I have concluded that what B_______ fears is DEATH. Loss. Without becoming committed, one has less to lose.

I did not realize this until I got married and had children. That changes everything. Because now you don’t just have your own death to fear, you are terrified at the thought of losing those dear to you, which is in a sense worse than losing one’s own life.

Afraid of commitment. Because there would be something to lose.

Afraid of mortality, the very thought of it.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   September 2017

Immersing Oneself Is To Be Desired

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‘Immersing Oneself Is To Be Desired’

 

If you trap the moment before it’s ripe,
The tears of repentance you’ll certainly wipe;
But if once you let the ripe moment go
You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

— William Blake, “If You Trap the Moment,” from the poet’s notebook

 

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I have had several experiences over the past couple of weeks that have no obvious relation to one another.

Yet, they have caused me to think earnestly and to have an epiphany of sorts.

The experiences were as follows:

After not having done much reading for a while, putting it off, being distracted by activities such as research and writing — and by daily life — I took up a book that I had started a while ago and began reading it in earnest.

I went to a play on an impulse, because someone else (namely, my wife and a friend) had seem it the day before and it piqued my interest.

I had occasion to think earnestly about personal relationships of mine, relationships with persons long intimate with me but with whom friction has arisen from time to time.

What, you may ask, does reading a book have to do with personal relationships? And, what does seeing a play have to do with them both, or at least the latter? The relationships are important to me, the book is of interest, but it’s only a book. And, I saw a play. Nice, but how does that relate to my epiphany?

A common thread ran through all the experiences. I will try to illustrate it below. Sometimes, things that engage our attention can get us to do “mental stretching,” as it were, to think anew about things, to entertain new thoughts, to reexamine our preconceptions, to look at things from another’s point of view, to enlarge our mental horizons. Such things often do not seem that important in and of themselves, but they can serve as catalysts and turning points.

 

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The various spokes of the wheel, the driving factors underlying my epiphany, were not uniform and did not occur all at once. To give an example of how something seemingly inconsequential can affect one’s outlook, the other day I saw a play, as I mentioned above: specifically, a stage adaptation of J. M. Synge’s The Aran Islands. My thoughts were wandering, as they often do, when one, say, is in a theater or lecture hall. I started thinking deeply about another person. My thoughts were totally focused on that person; there was a wonderful, edifying (perhaps I should also say liberating) feeling of being outside of one’s self. How or why did this occur? I think in part because of a “change of venue.” I am not a habitual playgoer. I did not know what to expect from then play. Such an experience and setting can result in things getting rearranged in one’s mind, in a fresh perspective.

The Synge play stimulated me in other ways as well. Though I was having trouble focusing on the words, I was interested in the language used by Synge (his vocabulary and style, that is); in the Aran Islands, its people with what I guess one might call their peculiarities; and Synge himself. I purchased his book The Aran Islands. It never would have occurred to me to have done so otherwise.

 

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I am reading a scholarly book about Walt Whitman, The Foreground of Leaves of Grass by Floyd Stovall. It demands full attention, which is amply rewarded. What a pleasure to read for knowledge. Tutelage. When someone else knows much more than you do about a subject. To broaden one’s horizons. Become more learned. Concentrate (the locution of Samuel Johnson, in a memorable phrase), engage, and focus the mind. It puts one’s mind in neutral gear, so to speak. Obviates self-absorption and petty concerns. Or, to put it another way, forces you to stop and think.

Also, concentrated reading — and its corollary, scholarship — enable one to achieve a state of intense concentration in which the mind is very focused and becomes cleansed. It’s a liberating experience. Being able to do such mental work is an indicator of having achieved for a duration mental stability, in which petty concerns and upsets have to take a back seat, at least as long as one is engaged in the mental “task.”

I suspect that that same thing occurs with activity, work, that is not necessarily or exclusively mental. Say craftsmanship, perhaps drawing or carpentry; building or engineering; professional activities such as medicine and health care; and so on.

 

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The morale of this brief post: it’s often beneficial to act on impulse when something arises that gives you the impetus to do so.

To be willing to say, guess what, I would like to see that play too. This book, film, or whatever looks interesting. I’m going to read or watch it. You have to kind of “clear the decks” to do so. Make a little space in your life and your schedule. But, you know what? I have found that “room” to do it can always be found somehow.

 

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Here’s a final thought. People. Relationships that begin casually. Somehow you make a link. Often, because you click somehow on some point or other, perhaps a shared interest or enthusiasm.

I don’t want to get too personal on this site, but I met my wife by serendipity. It would have seemed that we would have not had much that much in common, but we clicked off the bat. A relationship developed just like that. Without premeditation. It just happened. Once or twice, I was inclined to ask myself what was happening, but I LET IT HAPPEN. Thank God I did. My life was changed so much for the better.

 

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A corollary. Things take one by surprise. The big things in life. The important things, that is. You have an idea perhaps that you would like to get married in the future (though perhaps you’re not quite sure) and envision it, vaguely, happening. When it happens, it’s never quite like what you expected. You know in the abstract, or as a medical certainty, that someone is likely to die soon, but when it happens, you’re never prepared for it.

 

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I would be inclined to say that we can’t actually control things, can’t stage manage our lives, when it comes to the big things. Best policy: don’t try. Let them happen. Welcome them (as Walt Whitman said in his poems on the topic of death), and, when it comes to tragic events, accept them. And, when you get an impulse from above, a siren call, heed it.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   July 2017

Anger Management 101

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I have had occasion to be thinking a lot in the past week about anger.

Having been under considerable stress for various reasons, I have lost my temper on several occasions.

I found myself doing this over trivial things. For example, I was in a Dunkin’ Donuts/Baksin Robbins store and ordered ice cream for me and my older son. The guy behind the counter said, “That’s two ice coffees, right?” I answered angrily and loudly, “No! I said ice CREAM.”

There were other, more serious incidents this week of me losing my temper or expressing displeasure. One was with a company for messing up the shipment of items I had ordered, so that they didn’t arrive on time (it was totally their fault); another one was with a professional person whom I know on a provider-client basis; and I had disagreements with members of my immediate family.

Usually, people find me to be mild mannered and not prone — in public at least — to annoyance or anger. My behavior this week was not the norm.

I have been thinking, about anger: when is it appropriate and when is it not?

William Blake’s insights, expressed in his poem “The Poison Tree” come to mind:

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

(“A Poison Tree,” from Songs of Experience)

I would say that anger is appropriate and can’t be avoided in intimate relationships — e.g., a marriage.

If spouses did not argue (frequently), that would be abnormal.

My parents used to make this point to me and my siblings. They got along well. And, they tried to present a unified front when it came to issues related to parenting, so that we children would not see them bickering over what measures to adopt when it came to disciplining us or setting rules of conduct, say.

At the same time, they told us that couples who pretended that their relationship was one of perfect harmony and bliss and who hid conflicts from their children were fostering an untrue, picture perfect image that was actually harmful, because it would not prepare their offspring to deal with issues that would arise when they became adults and married. (This was a shared belief, but I seem to recall that it was my father who actually said this to me.)

It seems that the situation regarding “anger management” is different when it comes to NON-intimate relationships: e.g., a professional and client; teacher and student; employee and boss; relationships between professional or academic colleagues or businesspeople; and so on.

A few observations and illustrative examples from my own experience.

Honesty is a cardinal virtue I was raised on and believed in.

So I always thought Blake was right. When you are really angry, disagree with someone strongly — when it is not a trivial matter that can (and probably should, in such instances) be passed over — you should express it, share with the other person what you really feel, no matter how hard this may be.

Presumably, or at least hopefully, they will appreciate your honesty and integrity and will not, in the final analysis, be offended.

Nice to contemplate, but this has rarely been the case, in my experience.

On those occasions when I have allowed myself to express anger at someone, have leveled with them, it has rarely gone well or been taken well. It has almost always seemed to be bitterly resented and often has led to the end of the relationship and/or a “counter grudge” against me.

I should add that, from my experience, it seems that the case is different with really close relationships, such as relationships with a spouse or lover or family relationships (close family relationships, that is). It does seem that anger can and should be expressed, when it is legitimate and truly felt, in such situations, which could be said to be obvious — that it can’t be avoided — and that, while it may lead to bitterness and recrimination (and almost always does, it seems), it is possible to work through such feelings and come to a level of understanding in which the relationship has been in some ways strengthened, so that expressing anger is a NECESSARY thing. It kind of reminds me of when engineers have to shut down a part of a highway or bridge for a while for repairs, but then it reopens, strengthened and improved.

In the case of NON-intimate relationships, I have found that the best policy is to refrain to the fullest extent possible from expressing annoyance or anger, from letting it show. A therapist I was seeing once gave me precisely this advice (by implication, in the form of a question he addressed to me).

Sometimes I have failed to adhere to this self-styled “best policy” — invariably with bad consequences.

For example.

I was experiencing some difficulties once — it’s a convoluted story — with the editor of an academic journal I was associated with. I don’t remember the details of our disagreement. There was some underlying tension between the editor and me over my status as a contributor to the journal, on the masthead of which my name had been recently added.

I had done several book reviews for the journal and a successor publication. They were praised by the editor, along with some of my other writings. Then, I was given the assignment of reviewing a major new book, a biography of an important American writer, by this same person, the editor with whom I was experiencing friction. I gave his book a very thorough review, and a very favorable one (which it deserved).

Sometime not long after, I was given the assignment by the book review editor (not the same person as the one mentioned in the previous paragraph) to review two books for the next issue. One of the books was edited by the same person mentioned above, the journal editor whose biography of a writer I had recently reviewed.

I purchased the two books and started in right away to read them, preparing to review them. Then, a little while later, the book review editor contacted me and informed me that she was assigning one of the two books to a different reviewer. The book she was reassigning was the one edited by the editor of the journal, the English professor with whom I was having some disagreements.

This annoyed me and I wondered what was going on. Had the journal editor (the author) told the book review editor to take the assignment away from me? But I deemed it best to comply and say nothing about it.

Then my irritation got the best of me. I called the book review editor (not a wise move), who called me back the next day. I tried to be nonconfrontational, asked her as politely as I could what was going on. Was there some underlying reason that the decision had been made to take this particular book away from me, so to speak, and give it to another reviewer?

Her answer, in a nutshell, was no, it had nothing to do with me. It had just happened that someone else had come along who was willing to do the review.

I said fine, although I wasn’t completely satisfied with her explanation. Nevertheless, I thought the matter was over and done with.

But, as it turned out, the mere dropping of a hint of annoyance at her doorstep did have negative consequences. I did the other review that I had been assigned, but I never heard from the book review editor again. This despite the fact that I seemed to be one of her best and reliable book reviewers. I have contacted her since suggesting reviews, and she does not answer my emails.

She obviously decided that it was not worth the aggravation to continue dealing with me.

Something similar – in reverse, as it were – happened with me.

Around eight years ago, I was contemplating a trip to Russia and hired a private language instructor, a Russian émigré living in New York, to tutor me in the language, which I had studied, without achieving fluency, in college.

I took lessons with him twice a week in Manhattan at a modest rate, but they didn’t last long.

The instructor was short tempered and didn’t seem to enjoy what he was doing. He was impatient when I faltered with the language, had trouble pronouncing it, and so on. He was even annoyed when I had trouble using a cassette recorder he had advised me to purchase and bring to the lessons with me.

On one occasion, he vented anger openly, for no reason whatsoever. It was a very brief outburst. Not that apparent or vehement, but it was enough for me.

I thought about it and had no trouble reaching a decision. I didn’t need the aggravation. As a client, I was totally at liberty to leave. It wasn’t worth it, so I quit.

I heard from him again — he called trying to get me to start lessons with him again.

He seemed to really need the business.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   May 2016