Tag Archives: psychology

Book review: The Reinvention of Work: A New Vision of Livelihood for Our Time

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The Reinvention of Work: A New Vision of Livelihood for Our Time by Matthew Fox. Highly recommended.

In The Reinvention of Work, Matthew Fox brings together the work of Eastern and Western mystics, ancient, medieval, and modern, to propose a new paradigm for how we work and what we do. Citing Meister Eckhart, Thomas Aquinas, Hildegard von Bingen, the Bhagavad Gita, Tao Te Ching, Studs Terkel, Patch Adams, and progressive economists, Fox explores the concept of work and how it can be healthier physically, emotionally, and intellectually, but primarily socially, environmentally, and spiritually.

Fox believes that the Enlightenment and the industrial age have left us with a machine-centered, anthropocentric world that focuses on outer work and rewards at the cost of inner work and spirituality, and destroys rather than creates. Real wealth results from preserving the health of the planet, not in the artificiality of money or possessions. The result has been a world often at war, where the gaps between affluent and poor continue to spread, where the environmental health of non-industrialised nations is sacrificed for the comforts of the industrialised, and where the work that is available and that most people have serves machines and leaves the worker stressed, addicted to work, ill, angry and even violent, and unfulfilled intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually.

Fox cites mystics like Eckhart and Aquinas to show that they understood what is important and that they prophetically understood the traps that man is prone to fall into. He also recounts the stories of people who reinvent themselves through work, who are willing to sacrifice position and possessions to find an avocation that matters, like the man who gives up a high-paying position to become a fireman and who is ecstatic about the meaning it brings to his life.

Fox carefully sets up all that is wrong with our modern concept of work and, indeed, life, since so much of who we are, how we feel, and how we live is tied up in what we do for a living, or what we mistakenly call “work.” His proposed solutions are centered around creation spirituality, which is a “creation-centered mysticism that is also prophetic and socially transformative.” While creation spirituality is not very clearly defined here — Fox has written several other books about it and refers to them — it appears to center around the idea that creation comes from within and that we create our world, which is part of a greater, interdependent cosmos that continues to undergo creation. For Fox, “enlightenment” might mean recognising and embracing creation spirituality and our responsibility and role in the ongoing creation of the cosmos — a recognition that begins with inner work and extends outer work, and that redefines wealth and poverty. Fox is quick to point out that this is neither communism nor socialism, both of which suffer from the same destructive values as capitalism.

There are many elements involved in creation spirituality, which embraces many aspects of life that have been neglected, distorted, or abused, from education, health care, art, psychology, and sexuality to something he believes is critical yet missing or misused — ritual. In creation spirituality and the reinvention of work, properly conceived and performed ritual is meaningful, bringing people together, bringing out emotions, and acknowledging what has been done in the name of war, destruction, and hate. Ritual can also be playful and energising, for example, circle dances. Whatever the focus, ritual brings us together to share our common joys and sorrows. Ritual heals.

Mysticism appeals to me, and Fox’s assessments of what’s wrong and what could be done to change our course make sense and are supported by the quotes he provides from a broad array of sources, including psychologists, economists, writers, and artists. The consequences of not changing are clear, but it is equally clear that those consequences have not penetrated to either the masses or their leaders. (Even the rising price of gasoline in 2005 has not inspired any more than cautious apprehension.) We are like smokers who are able to quit our habit only when terminal lung cancer has been diagnosed.

To get billions of conditioned consumers (and their consumers-in-training children) to give up their increasingly complex lifestyles, comforts, and amusements in the interest of a healthier, more just world for all and for better personal mental and physical health requires a utopian change that most people will not embrace. As with the Woolgers in their book, The Goddess Within, Fox tries to find a movement in the mid-1990s that has not materialised yet. Generally, people do not choose to change; they are forced to. Perhaps someday, when the gaps have widened too far, and society and our home can no longer support our appetites (and the corresponding waste), we may be ready to listen to Fox and his adherents, at which point they will need to provide practical answers. Who will “make ritual”? Who will produce the necessities and how? Who will distribute them? How will they be paid, or what will replace a monetary/barter economy? What if there is imbalance between what people want to do and what needs to be done? In practical, everyday terms, what does the reinvention of work look like? And do I want to live long enough to experience the disasters that are likely to be required to bring it about?

Eckhart, Aquinas, von Bingen, the Bhagavad Gita, Tao Te Ching — all wise beyond their times. And beyond ours as well.

21 August 2005
Copyright © Diane L. Schirf

Book review: The Goddess Within: A Guide to the Eternal Myths that Shape Women’s Lives

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The Goddess Within: A Guide to the Eternal Myths that Shape Women’s Lives by Jennifer Barker Woolger and Roger J. Woolger. Not recommended.

The Goddess Within is an attempt to explore and explain contemporary psychological issues and social trends through the ancient Greek goddesses Athena, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hera, Persephone, and Demeter. The premise is based on the idea that the whole goddess of more matriarchal times has been divided and wounded, that patriarchal society suffers due to the resulting imbalance, and that we need to restore the balance and the multiple roles and energies of the goddess (and women).

One problem with The Goddess Within is reflected in the subtitle. There are no goddesses that shape women’s lives; rather, humans shaped the goddesses — including their splintering. At times, the authors seem to forget that distinction, especially when they make such statements as: “. . . the two goddesses who are, so to speak, expressing their larger grievance through the two women.” Perhaps it is simply the two women expressing their own grievances, which they have in common with other women.

The most basic problem, however, is the division of everything into the masculine and feminine. Is the earth really female? The moon? Why is the sun male? The authors talk at length about the moon, but never acknowledge that, without the “male” sun, there would be no nurturing of life on earth. Why is intellect a male attribute? Emotion female? Are these the kind of labels that reveal human psychology or repress a deeper exploration? Since each goddess is held to represent certain traits, are they necessary at all? Can six goddesses represent the “feminine” in its entirety? Essentially, psychology can be made to fit into any system desired.

What is more troubling, however, is the authors’ claim that “balance” is missing in our patriarchal world and their insistence that a matriarchy should replace it. The amount of gratuitous male bashing leaves no doubt about how they truly feel about “balance.” For example: “Growing Athena soon learns to curb her frustration at male stupidity and ineptitude, however” and “All men have in them heroes, lovers, fathers, leaders, listeners, protectors of one kind or another and it is never too asking too much to make the long overdue sacrifice of the whining little boy that prevents their emergence.” The message throughout is that everything wrong with the world, from war to pollution, is due to masculine thinking.

The authors also bring a great deal of personal bias to their discussion. They believe that Demeter (motherhood) is undervalued and suggest that mothers be allowed to return to their jobs after being granted five-year leaves — a greater privilege than National Guardsmen have. They don’t point out that someone must fill Demeter’s shoes involuntarily — perhaps even a type who doesn’t want to work extra hours and who would like to experience life, too. (I’ve done my share of working late so mothers can get to day care and events on time — my own admitted bias.) They say that families with children are relegated to fast-food restaurants and blue-collar diners, another phenomenon that doesn’t fit in with my observations.

That leads to another problem — The Goddess Within seems dated. Writing in 1989, the authors discuss “movements” that the average American today has not heard of — suggesting they are not so much movements as the typical handful of people from each generation who deviate from societal norms. There has been no growing return to rural living; if anything, suburbs continue to expand. There is no growing sensitivity toward the “earth goddess” among the masses. What the authors label “patriarchal values” — war, conquest, corporate power, degradation of the earth — are even stronger today. If the question is one of balance of matriarchal and patriarchal values, as the Woolgers define them, the world is as or more out of balance than ever.

The Woolgers, however, do not seem to propose balance, but a return to the matriarchy, where patriarchal Christianity as practiced and rational science (which they tuck in together as odd bedfellows) are subject to the goddess — ignoring the benefits that Christianity and science have given western society and focusing only on the harm they have done. For example, science has brought us nuclear weapons, but it has also contributed cures, treatments, and surgeries for ailments that would have killed millions of us early in life.

Rarely do the Woolgers mention the gods — and then it is primarily as consorts to the goddesses (or, in Zeus’s case, as the ultimate patriarch). If balance of these values should be the goal of the individual and society, why not The Gods and Goddesses Within: A Guide to the Eternal Myths That Shape Men’s and Women’s Lives? In their slavish devotion to the feminine (and feminist), the Woolgers devalue the masculine. To them, “no matter how much a doting father adores and is adored by his daughter, he is still far from a mother’s love of her little girl. He did not bear her in his body; he cannot experience that great mystery.” Is this really true? Does every woman who bears children experience it as a “great mystery”? And what of the great mysteries that men can and do experience? It is this lack of balance and wholeness that undermines the Woolgers’ claims.

Some women (and men) may find the goddess portraits very useful in assessing themselves and the women in their lives (for example, the Hera mother is easily identifiable) as well as their relationships. The goddess portraits and sidebars are also somewhat useful in the study of Greek and Roman mythology. Beyond that, however, The Goddess Within is little more than trendy, empty, male-bashing feminism of the worst kind.

My goddess scores:

Athena (goddess of wisdom)
17
Artemis (goddess of the wilds)
29
Persephone (goddess of the underworld)
23
Aphrodite (goddess of love)
22
Hera (queen of heaven)
9
Demeter (goddess of life)
1

5 February 2005
Copyright © Diane L. Schirf

Book review: The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You

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The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D. Highly recommended.

There is no end to the ways in which human personality types can be categorised. According to Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D., one of these categories, comprising about 15–20 percent of humanity, is the “highly sensitive person” (HSPs).

HSPs are individuals whose threshold for overarousal, physical or emotional, is lower than that of non-highly sensitive persons, although it falls along a scale. HSPs may be labeled “shy” or “avoidant” in school or society, when in fact they are really just trying to avoid the stress of overarousal. Aron is quick to point out that, while most HSPs are introverts, many are indeed extroverts. HSPs do not necessarily have better hearing, sense of smell, vision, etc., but their brains seem to process such incoming information at a different level. To a non-HSP, a rock concert or a casino is a loud, fun, exciting place to be. For an HSP, it is a loud, overwhelming, exhausting one that may require hours of aloneness and quiet to overcome the overarousal. According to Aron, the concept of the HSP is not mere psychobabble, but based on both psychological and physiological studies.

In American culture, and indeed in most Western cultures, HSP traits are generally seen as negative (hence, words like “shy,” “withdrawn,” “avoidant,” “inhibited”). Aron notes, however, that, in some cultures, HSPs are highly respected — in China, for example. HSP traits are neither bad nor good, but they have their positive and negative elements. While non-HSPs are warrior-kings, quick to make decisions and necessary to lead and act when such decisiveness and action are essential, HSPs are the the priests-judges-advisers, the more thoughtful group that “often act[s] to check the impulses of the warrior-kings.” Both clearly have an important role.

The Highly Sensitive Person defines the traits (with a self-assessment); asks you to accept yourself and your traits (or your HSP friends and theirs if you are a non-HSP); discusses childhood and provides guidelines for reframing experiences now that you understand your trait; and talks about such things as health, lifestyle, social relationships, work, love and sex, medicine and medication, and spirituality, with advice on how to avoid overarousal, especially unhealthy (physically and emotionally) long-term overarousal. The message is that HSPs are valuable and have a great deal to contribute to a non-HSP world that doesn’t understand us, doesn’t always value us, and sometimes is downright hostile toward us (“scaredy-cat” is something more than one HSP child has heard).

The Highly Sensitive Person is an attempt to help us understand what we need to do to find our optimal level of arousal (which is unique to the individual); manage unhealthy overarousal; and educate our family, friends, lovers, employers, teachers, physicians, etc., about our trait. It is also designed to assist non-HSPs understand their HSP friends and acquaintances. To me, it explained a lot about myself that I didn’t realise I share with others (a heightened sensitivity to loud or repetitive noises that don’t bother others, for example, and a tendency to find social events draining). There are no doubt some who would dismiss this all as self-help psychobabble — but for the HSP, this is invaluable self-help psychobabble. Highly recommended. Companion books are The Highly Sensitive Person Workbook and The Highly Sensitive Person in Love.

6 January 2002
Copyright © Diane L. Schirf

Book review: Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ

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Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ by Daniel Goleman. Highly recommended.

You know the feeling — your spouse says something that strikes you the wrong way, and involuntarily you tense up. You can almost feel your blood pressure rise. Without thinking, you respond emotionally, and soon what may have been intended as an innocuous comment has sparked a full-fledged marital battle that may leave as its aftermath lingering feelings of anger and resentment.

In Emotional Intelligence, Daniel Goleman describes the physiological processes that drive and are driven by emotion and their purpose, the ability of emotions to hijack rational thought and the short- and long-term physiological and psychological effects, and the personal and social benefits of teaching and learning how to manage the emotions.

In the opening chapters, Goleman discusses in simplified terms the complex interactions of the brain when emotion-causing stimuli are perceived, with the emotional mind reacting more quickly than the rational. For example, the sight of a snake may start the fight-or-flight response; the structures of the emotional brain prime the body to strike out at the snake or to flee from it. Then, after the body is tensed, the rational mind notices that it is a harmless garter snake. The efficiency of the brain circuitry, along with its emotional memory and associative abilities, helps to explain the power of the emotions. Citing research, Goleman suggests that the ability to recognize and manage emotions and emotional response, primarily learned from parents, family, friends, school, and the community, is a greater indicator of success in relationships, work, and society than intelligence tests. It is not necessarily how well you learn or what you know, but indeed how well you play with others.

Goleman covers a variety of topics: depression, mania, anxiety, PTSD, drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, relationship issues, abuse, and others. For example, a feeling of sadness can be transformed in the brain into a lingering mood and ultimately into a full-blown clinical depression. He shows how emotional intelligence can be used to control the brain’s circuitry so that pathological conditions like depression, mania, and PTSD can be managed or at least controlled.

Citing an increase worldwide in indicators of emotional and social problems, Goleman focuses on children and the importance of pilot programs that teach such skills as empathy, assertiveness without aggression, self-awareness and self-control, conflict resolution, and so forth. He discusses several studies that show measurable, long-term benefits of such programs, and the negative results when children do not have the opportunity to learn these skills at home, at school, on the playground, or in the community.

Goleman does not always seem trustworthy. His description of the 1963 “Career Girl” murders, intended to illustrate an emotional hijacking, does not match other accounts in key areas. He also leaves out facts, such as that several knives were used, instead saying that the killer “slashed and stabbed them over and over with a kitchen knife.” He does not mention the sexual assaults in “those few minutes of rage unleashed.” The crime he depicts fits his picture of an emotional hijacking, but other accounts show it to have been a more deliberate crime of longer duration. In a section on empathy, he says that one-year-olds “still seem confused over what to do about [another child’s tears],” citing an instance where a “one-year-old brought his own mother over to comfort the crying friend, ignoring the friend’s mother, who was also in the room.” There is no confusion here, but a logical, pre-verbal assumption: “My mother is comforting to me when I am upset; therefore, she will be comforting to you, too.” This kind of thinking is not limited to one-year-olds; for example, how many times has a friend recommended an action movie or horror novel to you, saying that you will “love it,” even though your known preference is historical romance or another completely different genre? Even adults assume that “what works for me will work for you.”

Goleman also discusses school bullies and outcasts in detail. He places so much emphasis on the probability that their peers are reacting to their lack of emotional intelligence that he misses some important exceptions and nuances, such as children who are social outcasts for socioeconomic and racist reasons or because they are nonconformist individualists, in which cases it is the other children who display a lack of empathy and emotional intelligence. On the flip side, there are children (and adults) who are not empathetic or emotionally intelligent but who are well liked, even popular, for other reasons, tangible and intangible (e.g., socioeconomic status, influence, some mysterious force of personality or charisma). Many successful, popular people exhibit little emotional intelligence, which Goleman could have addressed. In addition, while Goleman cites a wealth of research supporting his arguments, he does not present any dissenting opinions, or whether any exist. This weakens his presentation.

Emotional Intelligence is an insightful, enlightening look at how awareness of the emotions and their physiology can help us to manage them when they affect our lives negatively or when they become pathological (e.g., depression). I found the book to be a practical guide to recognizing when I am reacting rather than listening to others or hearing them correctly. It has helped me to cope with colleagues who are lacking in emotional intelligence and to give them subtle guidance. While most of Emotional Intelligence is intuitive to a perceptive mind, the book serves as a guide and reminder that even a little emotional intelligence can make relationships, situations, and life more positive, more productive, and less stressful.

13 August 2006
Copyright © Diane L. Schirf

Got plans?

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I live for today.

I’m realising this only at age 43, although it should have been evident decades ago. The first clear sign was my entire college career.

Most of my peers probably had some inkling of what they wanted to do — if they didn’t know they wanted to be an engineer, they at least knew they would study mathematics. If they didn’t know what they would study, they usually had an inkling of the type of career they wanted, that is, business, technical, artistic, academic.

I went to college because that’s what people with my interests and goals did, and because my father thought it was the only way for women to have the opportunities he had never had.

I had no goal.

How did I choose the university I attended? Did I select an academic major and seek out the top schools in that field, like an aspiring engineer might look at MIT? Did I pick a university based on its location, so I would have the opportunity to enjoy four years in a bucolic setting?

Essentially, I stuck a pin in a directory.

My interests were varied and unfocused, as they remain today. I began by thinking I would like to pursue Native American studies, not understanding what this meant or where it would lead. I later concluded that Natives didn’t need another European-American like me to “help” them.

Then, still in idealist mode, I decided the U.S. Foreign Service was for me. Everything about the Middle East fascinated me — that’s how little I knew. I attended a Model United Nations conference where I was supposed to represent Oman. I knew next to nothing about Oman (25 years ago, you couldn’t simply go to the CIA fact sheets online, or online at all). At one point, a question arose in committee about the U.S. and oil, and when I gained the floor I gave a speech off the top of my head for which I received a long ovation. It was probably not something a representative of Oman would have said.

I worked hard, but my application to the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service was summarily rejected. My dad had taken me to Buffalo for an interview with a Georgetown alumna. I had never been in such a wealthy neighbourhood, in such a richly furnished house, or in conversation with such a sophisticated person. She undoubtedly saw through me immediately. and it was an uncomfortable interview.

In the meantime, for my other three choices I considered the solicitations I’d received, including one for a great books college and another for an upper-crust women’s college where attractive girls were shown riding horses in the verdant and hilly countryside. Maybe that’s the life I wanted, but it wasn’t me. I researched the prestige factors of some others, finally selecting two universities in New York. I also applied to the University of Chicago based on its reputation, as described in the guides, without regard to location or program.

All three accepted me, so I was off to the University of Chicago as the college farthest from home and from my experience.

The University of Chicago did not require students to commit to a major until after completion of the Core. I thought that I might pursue a degree in political science or even, after encouragement by a 4th-year student, Islamic studies.

After a year’s struggle through the Core, especially math, physics, and chemistry, I began to realise that my strengths also did not lie in the social sciences.

That left . . . English language and literature.

Fortunately, I was able to take other literature courses as well, including Latin American and Russian literature. Happily, too, a course on the Anglo-Saxons counted as literature, and I was also able to take a couple of courses in English and American history. (History! Why didn’t I think of history as a major? I think I did, but it required too much reading, and I has become a slow reader.)

So I’d landed on English language and literature. It wasn’t easy and required more reading than I could handle (especially 18th and 19th century novels), but most of the time I understood the subject. My morale and grades improved. One year, I even appeared on the dean’s list.

Fast forward to graduation day, June 11, 1983. Two friends from New York and my roommate attended. I laughed at the president’s speech and pretentious manner, collected the diploma, drank some champagne, felt a little lost on Sunday, and woke up Monday . . .

Without a job. With nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no money.

While my classmates had spent the previous year (or more) applying to graduate schools and to businesses, pursuing internships, and in other productive activities, I’d done nothing. The idea of a post-college career apparently never occurred to me.

My dad now tactfully suggested I get a job. If I couldn’t within a few months, I would have to return to New York.

Just as these suggestions were rightly about to become a command, I found a jo selling tickets for the Chicago City Ballet. Then, within a couple of months, I’d obtained a job. Not a career, although it would last as long as a career without offering any of the emotional, moral, or even financial rewards.

For a while, I considered going to law school. I convinced myself, however, that the mentality does not suit me. In reality, I don’t have the mental, physical, or emotional discipline required.

I’ve also thought about a master of liberal arts degree. This would do nothing for career planning, but it might round out what I believe to be an inadequate academic background.

Another possibility was psychology or social work. Although I didn’t fare well in behavioral psychology or general classes in these areas 25 years ago, maybe life experience has better prepared me for them. Yet, in their way, they require a scientific and statistical way of thinking that has always eluded me.

Now, I’m wondering if I should to become accredited as a business communicator. I have no formal training in communications, just a lot of observational experience and intuition. If I succeed, I don’t know what I will gain as I don’t think it will change anything, and I am not sure that I feel that this is a meaningful objective. If I fail, I have a deep-seated fear there is nothing left.

I live for today. Yesterday is fraught with unplanned joy and pain, and tomorrow bears the promise of more.

Emotional intelligence results 6/2

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The Emotional IQ Test: How People-Smart Are You?

Diane, your Emotional IQ is 124.

This number is the result of a formula based on how many questions you answered correctly on Emode’s Emotional IQ test. But your Emotional IQ score is much more than just a number: it’s an indicator of success.

Research has shown that people with high emotional intelligence scores — not necessarily those with the highest IQ scores — tend to be the most valued and productive employees and have the longest and happiest romantic relationships.

So, where are you most emotionally smart? Your test results show that your strongest suit is empathy — your ability to see things from someone else’s point of view.

(For the little good it does me . . .)