It is rather funny that I have only started to blog now. I am a techie and a writer, and I had an intuitive sense of these new tools when they arose. I helped so many people start using these, and yet I myself haven’t done so. It’s like a singer who writes songs for others but never starts to sing on her own.
Tonight, I start my own. And I want a place where my posts can be as varied as my thoughts, and loose in construction (i.e. rambles a bit) so I don’t always have to be proper.
What prompted this tonight is my reflections on “stuckness.” For a great exploration, see Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. He talks about mental stuckness, or psychological stuckness. But I wonder about our more general propensity in life to stay stuck, thereby creating our own unhappiness. We stay in relationships that aren’t working or that are actually hurting us. We stay in jobs that under-value and de-value us. We stay in routines out of habit - church, wardrobe, sleeping patterns, stores we shop, even driving patterns. While there is an understandable dependability to this, we also shut down part of ourselves as we maintain stricter and stricter routines. Learning slows down - our brain doesn’t build as many new neural pathways. We literally create ruts in our brains that translate into ruts in our behaviors.
Part of the reason I think we participate in this stuckness is because of a narrative we buy - a great American life. If I keep going further, I’m going to get obnoxious really quick. My point isn’t to challenge a good dream but to challenge the notion of narrative as the ruling structures in our lives. We tell ourselves stories and then become the characters, play out the parts. There are many different stories - no given story or narrative is truly priveliged over another. That doesn’t matter … what I am wondering about is how we get beyond narratives that trap us … narratives that create a “stuckness” in our lives.
A person I care about deeply continually ruins major relationships in his life because of a narrative he keeps telling himself - that he “needs” certain things and that he has to act on what he feels. As soon as he is in a stable relationship, his “needs” and “feelings” lead him a new direction. He says he wants a loving, stable marriage, and yet he is constantly acting to the contrary. He is stuck in a cycle of failure in relationships - at least 8 major ones in his adult life by now. His personal narrative, about life and about his self-perception, continually lead him away from the things he says he wants and into the same predictable rut each time.
Another person I care about deeply says she is content right where she is and doesn’t want anything to change. She hasn’t changed in at least 35 years. She has everything (although by no means in grotesque excess). However, she may be losing it all by holding on too tight. In her narrative, stability and stasis trump all and is the way to success. She acts in accordance with that … and is stuck.
Striking out of these ruts doesn’t guarantee success, though. We are not always rewarded for our courage. Any person who has had the courage to get out of a bad marriage knows this. Divorce battles can turn into fights for life, for freedom, for the chance to move on … to get unstuck. Part of the reason these fights can be so nasty isn’t because of the financial stakes or social stakes … but because they are evidence that a person’s life narrative for operation doesn’t work. We will give up our money and our friends far faster than we will relinquish our worldviews.
The great strifes that have led to significant shifts in human history reflect this same notion. Martin Luther King Jr. was a threat to one narrative because he proposed an alternate narrative about societal structures. We are willing to kill people … in large numbers … when they do not act or are not willing to act according to the worldview, or narrative that we hold dear.
Narratives are perhaps the most powerful, influential force in the world. They drive decisions, they are at the core of social structures, of negotiations, of strife, of bliss. They are perhaps the most addictive drug or force available to man - they are in our blood streams since birth, and we can go an entire lifetime or generations without an awareness of their presence. We can get people to quit smoking or quit committing crimes easier than we can get them to change the narratives by which they operate.
So what. Many of us go about our lives and live these narratives without much consequence … “quiet desperation” - perhaps one of the greatest phrases from literature. Or do we live them without consequence? Therein perhaps lies a way for us to begin to sift through the healthy narratives and the unhealthy narratives - consequences. Does the narrative lead to health? Does it lead to harm to others, to ourselves? George Sand wrote that we are prisoners of our metaphors - we adopt a metaphor for our lives. At some point, our personal metaphors break down. Our narratives reach a point where they are just a story, not a reality. What is your metaphor? And at what point is the metaphor too much?
What is MY metaphor, what is MY narrative? And is it a good one? Do I limit or exclude (myself or others) by my narrative? How is that causing me to get stuck? And what are the consequences of that … to myself, to my son, to those in my life, to the world?
And what is OUR narrative? My concern is that our national narrative is one of victimhood. My additional concern is that our national narrative is one of “Americans as bad aggressors.” Nothing crumbles so fast as a nation turned in on itself, just like nothing crumbles so fast as a person turned in on him or herself. We are swallowing some pretty toxic narratives - narratives that if we stopped and questioned the consequences of them, I think we would reject them. While continual improvement is an honorable goal, and we are never perfect, we cannot function as a system by continually taking in and digesting mostly negative self-narratives. This undermines our individual psyches (e.g. as in the damage of psychological or emotional abuse in a relationship), and this undermines our collective psyches. Interestingly, this point of “the narrative” and even “the grand narrative” may be among the most important characteristics of 21st century life about which we could be aware. Even though it has not been on the forefront of our minds, this is definitely (seriously) on the minds of enemies to the US and its national security (see for example the Venona Papers which in-part document the Soviet Union’s attempt to undermine Americans’ perceptions of themselves from within, and consider the current use of media and narrative construction by our most public enemies).
So - are we stuck on a narrative of self-devaluation? And if so, what are the consequences of that? And how do we get unstuck - individually and collectively? Self-awareness isn’t just about questioning ourselves - it includes sound boundaries about what messages go in, and what messages go out … as we attempt to flush out the negative, perhaps that is how we get unstuck.