Some folks who struggle have been convinced they are broken and need fixing. This often appears to come from the rational mind, completely lost amidst overwhelming and conflicting feelings and striving for order.
Emotions are not rational. They have reasons to exist, but not ones that the rational mind grasps. We have to learn to relate to the nonrational world on its own terms, not to demand it work on the mind’s terms.
I am exploring the process of validating, or offering “okayness”, to my emotions. This is in many ways the opposite of “fixing,” and closer to Tara Brach’s process of Radical Acceptance.
In a practice of offering okayness, we turn toward all the feelings and offer them acceptance and safety. This is harder than it sounds, and some of my readers have already tuned out. For the rest of us—instead of trying to understand “why I feel this way,” or trying to decide which of my conflicting feelings are the right ones, or making feeling-based choices while in upheaval, it’s a process of sitting with the storm of emotion.
As always, I like to start by connecting my feet to the ground and sinking my awareness into my body. Some of us struggle to feel anything, but if you’re in a state of emotional overwhelm, you probably have some contact with the physical layer of your emotion.
Here is my current map of mental-emotional anatomy: At bottom is the emotion, the physiological experience that we codify with one word: “sadness,” “fear,” “anger.” We access that through what’s happening in the body—tightness in the heart? Heaviness? Tension in the back? Flushed cheeks and clenching hands?
Then there is the layer where emotion meets mind in an interpretation, commonly called a feeling: “I feel I want to run away,” “I feel threatened.” In the past I would discourage people from using feeling language, but that is a losing and perhaps unnecessary battle. What is important is to recognize that “I feel” is an interpretive strategy that makes sense of the emotion, not necessarily the truth of what’s happening.
Then there is the mental layer, which is often about analysis and planning: “There is no reason to feel this way,” or “What am I supposed to do about this feeling?” or strategizing, thinking, thinking, thinking.
Image of a white man who seems pretty okay, sitting on a rock outcropping overlooking a river valley and a mountainous horizon at sunset. Photo by Kalen Emsley.
So first notice yourself in the mental layer, and with every deep breath in and out, invite your awareness to drop a layer deeper. Instead of trying to solve the feeling, allow the feeling to be articulated. “I feel I’m in danger.” Then, as best you can, let that feeling know that it is okay.
“It is okay that I feel this way.” or “It is okay for this feeling to be here.”
Then notice another feeling, and offer okayness to that one.
After a few minutes, you might be able to drop even deeper to offer okayness to the emotion itself. “It’s okay that I feel scared.”
Spend at least a minute to five minutes doing this. What I experience is both relaxation of intensity and a sense of warm expansion. The emotions do not go away so much as they shift energy in a way that feels easier.
Notice, too, how this offering of okayness differs in experience from the attitude of “fixing” and “figuring out,” which often increases my feelings of tension, constriction, and irritability.
When the feelings have settled, then you might decide the next step.
We are wounded in relationship and we heal in relationship.
Shame says, “You are alone. Your problems are unique. You are broken. You are bad.”
As we sink beneath the surface explanations, the blame, the constant stories and analysis and begin to touch the heart of the pain and wound, we find a river feeding into the collective pain of our family, our communities, our larger circles.
As we claim and name this pain, we break the bindings of shame. We discover, “We are together. Our problems intersect. Our healing and freedom is bound together.”
We will not fully love ourselves so long as there are people we consider unlovable.
We will not find safety if we live in fear of others.
We will not feel security so long as there is hunger.
Image of a circular crossroads, surrounding which are trees of various colors. In the center is a person laying as though wounded. Image by Martin Riesch.
These thoughts might engender despair and anger, for how can we ever find happiness if the world must be made right first? It’s easy to feel not enough. And yet there is a flaw in this, the idea that happiness is a destination at which we arrive when the circumstances are right.
Happiness and joy arise from living what we value, accepting what arises. Our wounding leads to our work.
When I grow tired of making myself smaller and putting my “bad” parts in cages—when I find that bringing those parts to consciousness and finding what is beautiful and worthy about them feels so much more empowering—then I look out and wonder, why do we put people in cages?
As I uncage myself, I realize if I want to continue to grow, I must also work to uncage others. There is no single, correct way to do this, but it is the work.
Humans are strange creatures, not solitary like a turtle but not social like a bee, existing somewhere in the in-between of needing solitude and connection. We are interdependent, having our own private struggles and gifts but needing each other to fully do what is possible.
At a certain point, we get tired of nursing the private pain of being told we’re worthless, unattractive, and we realize the problem is not us but those forces that keep telling us these things. At a certain point, we notice that being divided from each other, made to compete with colleagues at work, allows our employers to keep heaping more work and expectations on us without resistance.
Being in community is hard and sometimes exhausting, particularly when the geographic and economic terrain of living seems so hostile to allowing the time and energy necessary to do that work effectively. Yet being in solidarity is a choice that helps us to transcend the shame and suffering of personal struggles. We experience a greater sense of power and love when we allow our struggles to interlock. We break out of the stifling sense of personal responsibility, that somehow I have to fix all the problems in the world.
Of course you feel you’re not enough for that task. It’s not meant to be a one-person job.
Last week, I received an email. It was one I had expected for a while, and though I was in the middle of a stressful day I paused to read it. The contents challenged me, and I noticed my heart felt like a painful metal disk. Within moments of reading the email I found myself typing a response, editing it, typing more. The defensive part of me thought I was being very grounded and rational. A deeper, quieter voice kept reminding me that I did not have to respond to this email right now, and suggested it’d be best to wait before sending it. Yet I sent.
That quiet voice was a sign I wasn’t being fully grounded and rational, as was the later realization that part of me wanted to reread the exchange repeatedly while another part felt uncomfortable about it all. My ego idea of who I was did not easily accept that I could respond impulsively, and as someone who often overthinks everything it was hard to recognize that I was avoiding sitting with the response engendered in me by the email. After a few days, I finally reread the exchange with a cooler head and decided I needed to acknowledge my defensive response and apologize for it.
I felt attacked, and I reacted. Responding in the heat of the emotion, however, I did not pause to reflect. What in me feels a need to defend? Is there something in these words that are true but hard to look at? Is there a story about myself that felt attacked? Is there some old vulnerability that got hooked? Am I upset about something else happening in my life? Is this a sign the person is communicating in bad faith?
These are all good questions and not ones that will be answered in the microseconds between feeling the emotion and acting on it. Reacting in the heat of the emotion tends to make things messier. Though it feels relieving, it does not always bring the resolutions we truly want. The emotion itself is valid, it is pointing toward something that needs to be known and named, but to get there we need some pausing and self-observation.
Image of a sunset over water; in silhouette is a land mass and a person looking downward, as well as the person’s reflection in water. Photo by Seth Willingham.
I’ve been particularly reactive lately, so after that big one I’ve been practicing the pause. Here’s one way a pause could play out:
Recognize the emotional upset
Notice the first stories of what my upset is about
Check in with my body, what is physically happening
Take a deep breath, and invite my awareness to deepen into the body
Take another deep breath, and invite my awareness to deepen
Quietly watch the thoughts and feelings
If that takes a while, find a trusted friend or confederate who will let you vent
Wait until the stories shift to ones that feel calmer and more grounded
This practice is not so easily done in face-to-face conversations, or situations that need a quick response. In that situation, when you recognize you are upset, you might:
Stop saying or doing whatever it is you’re saying or doing
Take a breath
Say, “I am feeling [defensive/angry/upset/reactive]. I need a moment.”
If the people around you continue to behave in ways that escalate your feelings, excuse yourself.
If not, continue with the process by checking in with your body
We live in, at least, two worlds—the inner experience and the outer world. Each of us has our preference, often understood as a personality that is more introverted (inner-focused) or extroverted (outer-focused).
I’ve seen several memes and articles about the care and feeding of the introvert and the extrovert, and we benefit from knowing our tendencies, but I find it unfortunate that we seem to view them as fixed and unchangeable personality types and not preferences we can develop.
The inner and outer worlds are separate yet in relationship with each other. We need not defend against one to protect the other.
This meditation helps you to find your best balanced style of attending to and interacting with your inner and outer worlds. With practice, this may help you feel more at ease with your natural social style, better able to manage stressors in the environment, and strengthen your ability to maintain your self.
This meditation guides you through making contact with your inner experience, being present to the surrounding environment, and then being with the flow of information between the two worlds.
Sometimes I feel like a puppet, dangling from the moon, pulled by erratic moods and the needs and desires of others. Sometimes my intuition is profoundly helpful, and following it makes my life richer and more profound. Other times I wonder if what I am sensing is accurate intuition or something more misleading, my hopes and fears. As someone long drawn to the richness of the unconscious and the spiritual realms, I have learned to appreciate both the limitations and the necessity of reason.
A snowy landscape with a tiny party of human hikers. Photo by Marc Guellerin.
The more we look inward and reflect on habits, compulsions, and automatic thoughts, the more we might begin to fear there is no underlying self. Perhaps we are simply a mess of competing drives and biological imperatives. Yet one wonders how we are capable of even recognizing this without the conscious capacity of self-reflection.
Yet apart from reason and intuition is the faculty of will: that ability to commit to and follow through on a course of action. This faculty is something we can grow through practice, starting with small steps and building upon successes. It is the faculty we draw upon when we have the thought, “I don’t feel like it,” but we go ahead and do “it” anyway.
Will has picked up unfortunate connotations from its widespread Victorian usage, in which it was used without an appreciation for compassion and used to shame people who struggle. We do not have to be wholly in control of our thoughts and feelings to exercise will effectively. Neither do we have to trample vulnerability and pain and force an outcome. But cultivating will does require a bit of sternness, a certain nonattachment with the self.
Will is the faculty that says, “It is our duty to win,” and makes consistent effort toward winning. Hardship and defeat do not become invalidations of the duty; they become information and fuel to help continue the will’s journey toward victory.
By this time of year, most of us who have set New Year’s resolutions tend to realize that we’ve forgotten about them, or begun letting them slip. It’s easy to go into shame and feelings of failure. Both are awful, but they also let us off the hook. Thinking that I’m worthless means I don’t have to try again.
When I exercise will, reason and intuition are the wings that keep me steadily moving toward my goal. When the weather conditions change, as they do, reason and intuition help me to adapt. Without will, however—without a destination in mind—there is no reason to adapt, no particular place I’m trying to go, no need to coordinate these functions.
If you do not have a grand goal, or know what you desire, you still can begin developing will. Pick a small activity, something silly or unimportant, and commit to doing it regularly according to a schedule. Studies have shown improvement in will when people commit to brushing their teeth with their opposite hand for two weeks. The trick is to do what you say you’re going to do.
“Take one pint of water.
Add a half-pound of sugar,
the juice of 8 lemons,
the zest of a half lemon.
Pour the water from one jug
then into the other
several times.
Strain through a clean napkin.
Grandmother, the alchemist—
you spun gold out of this hard life.
Conjured beauty
from the things left behind.
Found healing where it did not live.
Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen.
Broke the curse with your own two hands.
You passed these instructions down
to your daughter, who then
passed it down to her daughter.”
-from Lemonade
“The Great Work is, before all things, the creation of man by himself, that is to say, the full and entire conquest of his faculties and his future; it is especially the perfect emancipation of his will, assuring him… full power over the Universal Magical Agent.” – Éliphas Lévi
In my reading of Beyoncé’s work through the lens of psychospiritual alchemy, I traced the trajectory of her solo albums through Adam McLean’s analysis of the sevenfold alchemical process. The first three albums (Dangerously in Love, B’Day, I Am… Sasha Fierce) correspond to the “involutionary arc” of the spiritual impulse descending, meeting opposition in the inner world, synthesizing the opposition into a whole, and then manifesting. After the fourth step (4), manifestation, the work moves into the “evolutionary arc” which parallels the involutionary arc. The fifth stage (Beyoncé)shows the experimental steps at manifesting the new energies, which then leads to the sixth stage meeting opposition again, this time in the outer world: Lemonade.
In Lemonade, the Artist delves into her personal pain as a spouse betrayed by infidelity and then goes even deeper, into the collective pain of Black women and Black people in the United States. Thefilm is rife with images reminiscent of sites of Black suffering and liberation: the plantation, a flooded New Orleans, mothers holding images of their children killed by the police, a Black boy in a hoodie confronted by a line-up of police in riot gear. Alchemy turns lead into gold, and the alchemy of Lemonade transforms bitter fruit into a sweet, golden drink.
Betrayed by her lover through infidelity, the Artist begins quietly singing her suspicion and pain until leaping from the top of a building—her anxiety and self-doubt—into the watery unconscious. Here the Artist gazes upon herself, drifts in numbness, recites a litany of denial and realization, and suffocates before emerging as a beautiful being of power, joy, and destruction—not only does she emerge with a flood of water, she is then surrounded by fiery explosions, blessed by a gust of wind, and takes the wheel of an enormous and heavy monster truck. Thus she is blessed and empowered by the four elements.
Beyoncé emerges in the form of a water power. Still from Lemonade.
The sevenfold model of alchemy predicts a thematic reflection between complementary stages of the involutionary and evolutionary arcs. Read in this context, Lemonade returns to issues and themes originally confronted in the second phase of the working, in this case B’Day, which was itself an act of emancipation and increased ownership of her career when she chose to break away from her father’s management. Two of the most significant themes have unfolded around the Artist’s relationship to her lover and to her capitalist ambitions, each shaping the other in an ongoing tension, and Lemonade renegotiates the resolution achieved in B’Day.
My previous reading of B’Day suggested that the alchemical working at that stage required the Artist differentiate from the rigid but potent role of the archetypal Virgin Queen and connect in love and partnership with another, both personally and creatively. The Artist at that phase confronts her fears that gaining intimacy will undermine her power, particularly her pleasure in discipline, hard work, and consumption. Self-doubt and an emerging awareness of her vulnerability as a female artist beset her, but by the time she reaches Lemonade her script is fully flipped. Instead the Artist wears, inhabits, and works the guises of the Orisha. The surprise first single “Formation” is a spell, its lyrics chanting in a loping cycle that falls back, leaps forward, falls back. The Artist rests upon a submerged police car before sinking it, and herself, back into Oshun’s territory, the great waters. This is purgation, wielding her powers of art and magic to remix and remake the world.
Two songs show the distance the Artist has come: In B’Day‘s song “Upgrade U,” the Artist promotes her worthiness as an offer, calling upon a figure of nonviolent strength: “I can do for you what Martin did for the people.” In contrast, the Artist in Lemonade takes her worthiness for granted and calls out her partner with a righteous anger in the song “Don’t Hurt Yourself”: “Bad motherfucker. / God complex. / Motivate your ass, / call me Malcolm X.”
At each phase of working, the Artist has increased in consciousness of the strengths and challenges of a black woman’s power within a white supremacist patriarchal capitalism. While she fully owns and celebrates capitalism, Lemonade shows her interrogating patriarchy and racism more explicitly than ever before. In the song “Formation,” the Artist hearkens back to the B’Day stance of power-through-supporting black men by singing, “You just might be a Black Bill Gates in the making.” After a brief reflection, she seems to recognize the old pattern and realize it’s time to think bigger: “I just might be a Black Bill Gates in the making.”
As much as the Beyoncé who celebrates capitalist achievement and wealth energizes Lemonade, increasingly we see the Artist standing outside of patriarchy and white supremacy, identifying with her communities, her culture, her heritage and family. This time she’s not telling other women to “bow down, bitches,” instead she’s inviting those who are up for the task to “get in formation” with her.
B’Day‘s song “Ring the Alarm” presages the rage around infidelity explored with maturity in Lemonade, yet in that song the Artist seems avoidant of challenging her betrayer directly, instead focusing her rage at the other woman whom she imagines exploiting her wealth. In Lemonade, outside of a remark about “Becky with the good hair,” the Artist spends little time thinking about the “other woman” and much of her effort calling out and repairing her relationship with the husband who broke his covenant.
The grandmother’s alchemical recipe of lemonade cited above, passed along the matrilineal line, shows an alchemy distinct from the masculine Self-formation of Lévi. This alchemy is quiet and collective, drawing upon the powers of domesticity and craft. The grandmother possesses power but does not keep it for herself, she passes it to her daughters, she shares her concoction with others. The Artist returns to her queenship, extending power to uplift.
Beyoncé upon her throne. Still from the “Sorry” video.
In my last post, I discussed propaganda as a tool of control and subversion, and observed that the cultural climate has shifted in such a way that it behooves us to engage consciously with the strategies and consequences of it. Instead of bemoaning propaganda or relegating it to one “side,” it seems to me wisest to acknowledge that it exists, it is effective, and it is widely employed.
What to watch for is whether propaganda leads us toward personal and collective danger. The information we take in influences the mind, the heart, the body, and then our actions. Thinking about things that terrify me, I feel fear in my body, and I respond fearfully to otherwise innocuous things around me. When I can calm and defuse that emotional reaction within me, however, my mind is freer to engage rationally with propaganda.
Thoughts and propaganda are similar in that trying to get rid of them is a poor use of energy. What is more useful is engaging mindfully, cultivating the ability to observe one’s thoughts and reactions with some distance and curiosity. Here are some ideas on strategies to do this:
Image of a fist above text: “Keep Calm and Decolonize Everything,” in a poster that evokes British wartime propaganda. From Oppression Monitor Dailey.
Understand you are being manipulated
Objective truth might exist, but there are no objective people. We all have agendas, conscious and unconscious, and we want things from each other. I write this blog post because I want to live in a world of conscious human beings and I believe this is an important contribution to that. I also write this because I want potential clients to read this, go to my website, and sign up for therapy from me so I can make money. Both are true.
These motivations shape the way we communicate information to each other. Effective persuasion offers information in ways to motivate desired behaviors. Ideally, we communicate accurate information in health-affirming ways. Sometimes, however, this motivation comes through deception—knowingly stating something that is false, or stating accurate information in misleading ways. (Much popular reporting on scientific research exemplifies this, presenting the research as much more conclusive than it truly is. See also most clickbait headlines.)
When interacting with others, it’s useful to consider what agendas are in play and decide how we want to engage with them. Does my agenda match yours? Can I work with your agenda in a way that meets mine? What I do then is an active choice. Even if someone is actively trying to con you, and you recognize it but decide to go along with it, you are now a co-participant rather than a person being manipulated.
Cultivate curiosity about what you know and what you feel
Even when you have a practice of not clicking the obvious clickbait-y titles of articles, it’s hard not to see that “[Celebrity] DESTROYED [this politician] over [controversial issue]” and unconsciously internalize the story. At times, reading the actual article In some cases, reading the article intentionally would be more helpful, as it would help you evaluate for yourself whether someone was “DESTROYED.” You might also attend to the ways the article is shaping the story. Some articles will take one sentence of an actual thing that happened and add paragraphs of speculation and unverified claims.
Dangerous propaganda roots in unexamined assumptions and those Id feelings of lust, anger, fear, vindictiveness, hope, comfort, and pleasure. It finds safe harbor in our bias and bigotry, our assumptions about whomever we perceive as an enemy or an “other.” It is nearly impossible to stay conscious about all of this at all times, but when we feel particularly provoked we might sit with some questions:
“How do I know this to be true?”
“Where did this knowledge come from?”
“What evidence supports this knowledge? What evidence contradicts it?”
“Is there someone I respect with whom I can talk to about opposing views?”
“What feeling does this bring out of me? How strong is this feeling?”
“Who benefits from my thinking and feeling this way? Who gets harmed by it?”
This is largely about curation of the mind and the heart. It’s difficult to make thoughtful choices when I’m ramped up into fight, flight, or freeze. If this article or commercial stirs up panic about the future, is that going to help me effectively navigate it? If this propaganda wants me to meekly accept what’s happening and go along with something that assaults my core values, is doing so in my interest?
It’s easier to engage this practice when we don’t want to believe what something is telling us. It’s harder to do this when we do hope or fear something is true. Doing this practice with both is useful. When something seems to confirm your greatest hope or your greatest fear, take a step back.
Make a list of what matters to you
What do you stand for? How do you think people should treat each other? Who are your allies in this?
I recommend identifying five core values, often one to three words, which could be written on a card you keep in your pocket or posted on a note around your home. Periodically I will revisit these core values in terms of my life or responses. If I say I value kindness, for example, I could spend a week looking at how I am practicing kindness in my interactions with others, and whether the media I’m consuming supports kindness or undermines it.
An image of a fist, surrounded by rays, around which are the words “Defend Equality” and “Love Unites.” Does this align with your values?
In this context, grounding is the act of bringing awareness into the body, the present moment, and our connection to the earth. Simple ways to do this include: focusing on the feeling of your feet on the ground, your butt in the chair, or the weight of gravity holding you to the earth. Look around the room and notice what is there. The body lives in the present moment, and so when the mind and heart get ramped up into intense fantasies, contacting our senses brings us gently back to “what is”.
When I guide people in grounding, I often encourage them to notice the stability of the ground in this moment. When I do this, a part of my mind says, “But there could be an earthquake.” And I acknowledge, yes, that is true, but in this moment I can feel through my feet that the ground is stable. That is the point. I don’t need to deal with an earthquake that’s not currently happening.
Recall this next time you feel stirred up by potential threats to your safety, especially when it’s the hypothetical possibility of violence, or a conflict that is happening miles from where you live. Notice the feelings engendered and how the media you consume invites you into a political “us-vs-them” drama, away from listening and connection.
Then try grounding. Right now, in this moment, is your body safe? Does the ground feel stable? Are you around people you trust? Is anything catastrophic happening? What in your life at this moment could benefit from your attention? You have power in your life, more power than you do in those political narratives. Do something meaningful for yourself, and then revisit the drama. What feels important now?
Most of all, I urge us all to turn away from these grandiose, Internet-fueled feelings toward engagement with what’s in our lives today. When you find your energy being turned against a vague enemy, redirect that passion toward what you value, what you are for.
Last December I was out running errands with my spouse. We noticed a man standing on an island in the middle of traffic holding up a sign on which was written one word, a hashtag. I had no idea what to make of it. “What on earth is he doing? What is the point?” I looked up the hashtag on my phone, learned about a conspiracy theory that seemed pulled straight from the 1990s “Satanic Panic” playbook, and told my spouse about it. My spouse, in turn, pointed out that I had done exactly what the man with the sign wanted. He infected with this meme, this idea. Not too long after that, the hashtag and its associated story motivated a person to go into a business named in the theory with a gun, threatening the workers.
Propaganda utilizes simple, emotionally captivating messages and images, often drawing upon easily recognized symbolism. Image of a white woman wearing an American flag dress, spreading grain on a field. Above her is the headline: “Will you have a part in Victory?”
We tend to interpret the word ‘propaganda’ as information that is inherently untrustworthy. We refer to “Soviet propaganda” or “anarchist propaganda” with the understanding that those folks likely aren’t telling the ‘truth.’
Historically, propaganda was generally regarded as a neutral force, holding true to its Latin roots. ‘Propaganda’ derives from propagare, meaning ‘to propagate,’ and propaganda was recognized as a powerful weapon that could be wielded in the name of countless agendas. It was only with the rise … of authoritarian governments that disseminated mass propaganda through the means of mechanical reproduction in order to manipulate the public in favor of repressive tendencies, that the word took on a permanently negative connotation.
Once upon a time, I believed that most conflict and bigotry arose because people were not adequately aware of “the truth.” If I could simply, calmly, and rationally explain that truth to another person, I thought, they would understand my perspective and change their behavior. This is a fantasy underlying many forms of liberal activism, from fighting climate change through racial justice, among other causes.
In this worldview, there are arbiters of truth, at least those who come closest to understanding our best grasp of the truth. It is appalling, according to this mindset, that anyone would ignore or deny these arbiters of truth, such as the scientists who affirm that climate change is real and human behavior is causing it. When confronted with that, the response is often to become condescending, dismissive, all the hallmarks of “liberal elitism.”
Now this fantasy seems facile. What is lacking is appreciation for another truth. It turns out rational argument is not enough, there must be a compelling appeal to the heart as well. Marketers and public relations professionals have known this for decades.
During my late teens, I read William S. Burroughs’s essay “The Electronic Revolution”, in which the writer Burroughs discusses human language as a literal virus (a concept that has become mainstreamed in our reference to content “going viral”), and ways by which language becomes weaponized and used in the service of those societal twins, control and subversion. “Illusion is a revolutionary weapon,” he asserted, going on to explore strategies of employing doctored recordings to plant seeds of doubt and rebellion.
Here’s one example:
TO SPREAD RUMORS
Put ten operators with carefully prepared recordings out at rush hour and see how quick the words get around. People don’t know where they heard it but they heard it.
Social media today attests to his theories. I’m scrolling through my news feed and see a provocative headline that suggests something that wants to appeal to my most Id-centered emotions: anger, fear, pleasure, vindictiveness. I see that someone I don’t like got “DESTROYED” on a news show, or a politician got caught out on a scandal that had been long-suspected (or desired). Sometimes I click on the article and, upon reading, realize that the headline is misleading or the story is actually much less compelling than promised.
Other times, it gets its hooks in me. When the topic comes up in conversation, I’m already half-assuming it’s true. “I heard that! I saw it online.” People make a trending hashtag about it, memes about it. I get into arguments over why it matters. I argue about the way people argue about it. Several people write thinkpieces on why we’re misunderstanding the essential reason why the news matters. Maybe I learn later that the story was misleading but the damage is already done.
For those who still value the idea of transcendent, liberating truth, the idea of a war of propaganda is offensive. Sitting with my own discomfort, I take Valkyrie’s point that propaganda is a neutral technology, one that could successfully broadcast one’s own beliefs and opinions as much as opposing ideologies. Memes, for example, are effective at persuasion and consolidation of bubbles because they appeal to both lobes of the brain. They contain language communicating the essential point (left brain) with aesthetically and emotionally captivating images (right brain).
Collage is a visual form drawing upon the same cut-up techniques, taking existing mass-marketed images and re-contextualizing them, generating new possibilities.”The Fire of Your Soul,” amateur collage by author, 2017.
“The Electronic Revolution” was a significant influence on the industrial music scene, which played with the splicing of musical forms with sampled audio content. One of my favorite exemplars of the genre is Meat Beat Manifesto’s Satyricon, a work that explores themes of propaganda, state control, and liberation of the mind through freeing the body. The song “Brainwashed This Way / Zombie / That Shirt” is a triptych that splices and remixes media samples from advertising, film, and political speech over a series of shifting beats to link together marketing and the deployment of pleasure for social control. (I cannot find an officially sanctioned version of the song available online, but a YouTube search will get you there. Or you could buy the album.)
All this said, while a wholly rational appeal is not very effective to motivate change, a wholly emotional and aesthetic appeal is dangerous. Appeals to fear, anger, and pleasure are very effective at getting us to turn off our critical thinking skills. This feature is beyond political orientation.
Disappointment is an emotional experience that seems particularly keen and yet not so often discussed. To be called a disappointment by someone we love, respect, or wish to please is gutting. To be disappointed ourselves seems so painful or undesirable that we work hard to measure expectations, create distance. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up so I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”
A related word is “disillusionment,” a painful state of losing one’s cherished imagination of how the world is. In the long-term, losing one’s illusions is adaptive, helping us to see more clearly and accept the world as it is. When we get stuck in the state called “disillusionment,” however, we enter a different kind of illusion—a state of hopelessness that shuts down the capacity to see what is possible, and the impetus to act.
A woman with a veil, leaning against a tree, looking forlorn. A peacock at her feet looks back up at her. Untitled (Disappointed) by Jogesh Chandra Seal.
Another relevant d-word is “desire.” There is something I want, an experience I desire deeply. That experience might be that the person I like feels the same way about me. That experience might be the satisfaction I imagine I’ll feel when the person against whom I’ve harbored a grudge finally admits that I was right all along. On a grander level, that experience might be a certain political outcome, a certain kind of society. Perhaps I’ve always wanted to have a surprise party thrown for me and attached a meaning to it.
Disappointment and disillusionment arise when the desire is thwarted—shown to be based on faulty premises, shown to be impossible, or otherwise defeated. These experiences also arise when desire is achieved and fails to be what we hoped it would be. Maybe someone ruins the surprise for me, or the party goes off successfully but one of the attendees is rude and stomps all over the fun.
Implicit in disappointment and disillusionment is expectation. There is a hoped-for experience that fails to occur. Often this involves people. We expect people to behave a certain way and find ourselves bitterly disappointed when they don’t. That bitterness may express itself outward in anger, by attacking others, accusing them of poor behavior. It may express itself inward as depression, attacking ourselves as being unworthy of what we want.
Befriending disappointment helps with resilience. When disappointment is an awful experience to be avoided at all costs, we shrink away from risks and vulnerability and stick to what’s known, even if we are unhappy. For many, we’d rather feel the disappointment we know than risk further disappointment. We’d rather nurture and cherish some beliefs that may turn out to be illusions, fearing that their loss will mean the complete absence of hope. Such closing off keeps us safe but stuck.
Experiencing and listening to disappointment teaches us more about ourselves and the world as it is. Disappointment does not mean the desire was wrong. It is information. It shows us the beliefs and actions that didn’t work for manifesting the desire. It shows us that we live in an imperfect, constantly moving world. It can help temper our expectations and, if we allow it, teach us gratitude for the things we belief we should take for granted.
I woke up on the first day of 2017 feeling energetic and excited. I’d set my intention for the year and I felt eager to start threading it into my day. Making a new change always gives me a rush of possibility, a feeling of pride and competence! For the first few days, anyway!
A long time ago I stopped making formal resolutions of the type, “I will accomplish [this thing] this year.” These days my practice is to set an overall intention, or find a key word to which I can anchor. One year, for example, I chose the word “Sobriety.” I kept sobriety as the state I strove to keep up consciously, and to recognize when and how I fell away from it. Instead of saying “I won’t drink this year,” my goal was to keep my use of intoxicants below the threshold of becoming intoxicated.
I’m not saying this to suggest everyone should do this specific practice, but the approach helped me to use the intention as a practice of staying conscious while not setting myself up for failure. Failure, in fact, wasn’t failure, but rather information that helped me better understand my relationship with my intention.
What I’ve learned is that when I start a change or set an intention, initially I will enjoy the period I’m enjoying right now—”This is awesome! I feel so great!” This wears off. Sooner than I’d like, everything that resists this intention or change makes itself known. The river gets rockier and more rapid, harder to navigate. For many of us, our resolutions do not survive this period.
A white flag with the word “Explore” written on it, against a backdrop of dark wood. Image by Andrew Neel
What interferes with keeping intentions or resolutions, whatever they may be? Here are some:
Lack of knowledge or competence – We may set bold, inspiring goals that fill use with passion and enthusiasm, only to discover on the early steps that the actual work leaves us feeling confused, lost, humiliated, or in pain. We had no idea it would be this hard, or we had no idea all the things we had no idea about with regard to the process.
Trying to do too many things at once – This is related to the first bullet, in that we can get so eager to revolutionize that we take on way too much. Quitting smoking, taking up regular exercise, and cleaning the house weekly are all admirable goals, but trying to do all three at once is at best an exercise in self-torture and at worst a set-up. Better to pick one goal and hold one’s self to it with diligence, then take up the next once that first pattern is more or less set.
Life happening – After a few great weeks of staying consistent, little things crop up that seem like reasonable exceptions, then more reasonable exceptions, or maybe we reward ourselves for doing such a good job and take a break that starts to drag on.
Lack of support or encouragement – Maybe our friends and loved ones aren’t supportive of the changes we’re trying to make. When we change, it often pushes those close to us to change as well. If our loved ones aren’t willing to change, they may respond in ways that encourage us to go back to the old patterns. Even if they’re not actively interfering, sometimes the lack of encouragement undermines enthusiasm and follow through. It’s hard to keep eating salads and drinking water when everyone around you keeps getting burgers and beers.
Parts of self threatened by the change – This underlies everything. Perhaps the pattern we’re trying to change served a need we weren’t conscious of, like comfort or safety. Perhaps parts of us are afraid that if we’ll succeed life will change in uncomfortable ways. Maybe the old patterns are comfortable and we return to them in times of stress.
Whatever the reason, it’s almost a guarantee that any time you try to make a change something or someone will resist and try to stop the change. We have to contend with discomfort, conflict, unpleasant feelings, and doing things when we “don’t feel like it.” We might have to accept that the goal was too lofty, too far ahead on the path from where we’re at.
This year, instead of being discouraged when this happens, my hope is that we can approach this as life giving us the material we need to work with to truly make this change permanent and lasting. It is feedback, internal and external, showing us what in ourselves and the world caused us to keep to the old pattern in the first place.
Slipping up or making a mistake with our own intention does not have to be a sign of personal failure, a sign that the goal was wrong or we’re broken. It’s an opportunity for self-study, to look honestly at the obstacles and take stock of what other changes need to happen to sustain our intention.
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