On suffering and dignity

The dentist prepared herself to anesthetize me with that large needle, which she kept out of my sight while I braced myself for the impending discomfort of the drilling. As the lidocaine flowed through my gums, I stared back at that ominous spotlight; if there's a moment in which I feel helplessly vulnerable, it's when I'm lying under that blinding light with an abundance of alien gadgets embedded in my mouth. After a few minutes, drill in hand, the dentist asked that I'd let her know immediately if I felt any pain. Needless to say, at the faintest hint of discomfort, I threw in a hammy moan and got that extra shot.

Later that night, I kept on thinking about that experience and wondered, what is it with me and the fear of pain, or even better, the fear of the slightest sensation of discomfort. And it's not just the physical pain. Let's face it, I'm a 35-year-old, I haven't been in a serious relationship for quite some time now and the only commitments I have, apart from my job, are subscriptions to Netflix and Spotify Premium.  Yes, I could easily say that the older one gets, the pickier he becomes, which is partly true. Yet, the main reason why I'm still single is that it's easy and, most importantly, it's painless.

But this aversion to pain is quite common with my generation and society as a whole. If once we valued the importance of being able to make sacrifices because it's an essential part of the journey, now we are more likely to try to avoid the hard path, and take the easy one instead.  Many will read this as a generalization, and maybe it is, but there's definitely something to be said about how we are starting to lose sight of the value of suffering and sacrifice.

So why's this a problem? Our compelling fear of pain and our incessant need of instant gratification doesn't leave any room for us to confront our own demons: are you nervous about that long-haul flight? Then pop a sleeping pill. Are you feeling anxiety and you don't know why? Alcohol and antidepressants will do the trick. Is your current relationship requiring you give up a lot? Then simply call it off. And the list goes on and on. We spend way too much time protecting ourselves from any form of pain and if we can't prevent it, we simply numb it.

I had this realization while reading Man's search for Meaning; it is a beautifully-written book that delves into Viktor Frankl's harrowing experience in concentration camps during the Second World War. As one would expect from somebody who has witnessed those atrocities first hand, his writing is vivid and raw. In such degrading conditions, many prisoners simply resorted to apathy because they had nothing to live for. But Frankl makes the most profound of cases: one could strip away the most basic needs from a prisoner's life, yet, it was they who had the choice. They could either let themselves be robbed of their inner freedom and dignity or hold on to it. And the only way to do so was by owning the suffering and the pain: 

"When a man finds that it is his destiny to suffer, he will have to accept his suffering as his task; his single and unique task. He will have to acknowledge the fact that even in suffering he is unique and alone in the universe. No one can relieve him of his suffering or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden."  (P.78)

Every time we choose not to confront our suffering we are simply putting our lives on hold. There's something to be said about the ability to endure it and the dignity it brings. After all, we truly start to love our body once we comprehend the magnitude of hardship it was subjected to in its quest for meaning. 

There again, I'm the same guy who begs for more anesthetic and is scared stiff of commitment, so I understand if you're taking this one with a grain of salt. 

It happens to the best of us

 

I have to admit that the first time I watched this clip I secretly rejoiced: it was about time that somebody called out on those art snobs, I thought. Let's face it, most of you who watched this video felt some sense of vindication. The fact, that a bunch of Dutch art experts mistake a cheap Ikea painting for a great masterpiece should make us think though. This is definitely a great reminder for us not to rely too much on what experts say and indeed, learn to question the status quo. But, no matter how tempted we might be,  it would be way too reductive if we dismissed them as phonies.

In this excerpt from "You are Not so Smart,"  David McRaney makes a compelling argument explaining why wine connoisseurs gaffed when they tasted dyed white wine, depicting it as red. It turns out that their judgment had been affected by the distorted environment (The brain saw red!) Just like the connoisseurs, the art experts were put off track because the work of art appeared in the National Art Museum--not in just any common art shop-- and that heavily impacted the way they perceived it. It makes sense, doesn't it?

We're all vulnerable to this because the way we experience things is heavily swayed by the expectations that we set. We would never expect a virtuoso violinist to perform at a train station, so we assume and we walk on. Many of us do this every day with the food they eat, the music they hear and the clothes they wear.

McRaney's premise is that we're really not that smart, so we fall victims to our own bias. This had me thinking hard. Frankly, I can live with being clueless when attempting to taste red wine or critiquing a piece of art --imagine if nobody ever found out it was, in fact, an Ikea piece? We'd be auctioning it to the highest bidder and studying about it on the art textbooks-- but what about things that really matter such as the relationships and the paths we choose to take? Do we have control over these or are our minds playing tricks on us in these areas as well?

Jung, you might want to dig deeper on this one

Artwork by Mitumi

We all like to take those personality tests that will tell us more about who we are. We're given random statements that we ponder about: you enjoy being surrounded by people;  others describe you as mellow and a good listener; you're the charismatic one in the group. As you fling yourself into those endless statements, rating each one meticulously, you somehow get to that much agonized "submit" button. You hold your breathe and you read the final verdict. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? 

We spend way too much time figuring this out when in reality it's all relative. If you think about it, being an extrovert doesn't really tell you much. There are extroverts out there who are invested mostly in their own advancement. They will schmooze and flatter you if it means they get to climb the ladder. But there are also those extroverts who are true givers and will go out of their way to lend a helping hand to others. The same goes for introverts. Just because you're an introvert, it doesn't necessarily mean that you're a nice sensitive person. Just like extroverts, introverts can be selfish and egotistical. 

In reality, the question you should be asking yourself is this: how much inner depth do you have? Having inner depth has less do with our extrovert/introvert tendencies and more to do with our connection to what many call the self. 

We live in a society that is way too latched to the mindless chase of money, fame or any other form of vanity metrics, and sadly this restrains us from becoming complete versions of ourselves. Too often we end up getting stuck in our own ego, dealing with our fears and anxieties.

The self, on the other hand, is the pristine side of us. When we take heed of that inner voice, we gain awareness. It's that same voice that allows artists to transform deep emotions into words, images and sounds. It's the idea of yearning for aloneness, because in our solitude we can relate to that intangible side of us, even though society might mask it as loneliness and tell that we should try to surround ourselves with as many people as we can (Let's make no mistake here, "extroverts" are just as able to seek solitude). Connecting to that spiritual side of ours--I said spiritual not religious--is the most solemn of experiences. It's the reason why we came to be in this world. 

So the next time you prepare yourself to take one of those tests, stop and think for a second. You might be better off searching for that answer somewhere else. Somewhere that's more personal.