This blog was originally posted on August 14, 2013 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was reposted here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
An article in the Huffington Post reported on a study demonstrating that no other country in the world places more of their citizens on arrest than the United States. While 716 per 100,000 people in the United States are incarcerated, the second highest number in any other country is 649 and only five other countries have more than 500 individuals per 100,000 incarcerated. Recently, we seem to be flooded with statistics similar to this. For instance, in December 2012, shortly after the Sandy Hook School Shooting, The Washington Post reported that there are significantly more gunrelated killings in the United States than any other developed country.
Photo by Louis Hoffman
These statistics are startling; however, they are just the beginning of the serious social issues that the United States is facing. We still have not closed down the Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp despite many reports of human rights violations. The United States has been involved in drone attacks in which civilians and children are being killed in other countries in alarming numbers. We still hear regular reports of hate crimes and have many White supremacist groups that remain active in the United States.
Yet, crime and violence are not the only prominent human rights shortcomings in the United States. We are lagging behind many countries in marriage equality. Women often still are paid less than men for the same work, and there is an increasing gap between the rich and the poor. Islamophobia and homophobia are too often accepted prejudices. Since Obama’s election as the first Black president, which did signify remarkable progress in terms of racial problems in the United States, we have also witnessed an increase in many forms of more overt racism. Our politicians, who should be role models, have lost the faith of our country due to partisan politics and behavior more reflective of dramatized reality TV shows than elected public office.
It is common for people in the United States to believe that we are morally superior to other countries. In particular, the United States has a strong international reputation for being quite judgmental of other countries about human rights violations. However, an honest look at the statistics quickly reveals that we should be cautious in becoming too smug.
The existential principle of zhi mian highlights the importance of facing oneself directly, honestly, and courageously. It can be quite beneficial to cultivate the practice on a cultural level as well as an individual level. In the United States, if we are going to authentically engage other countries about human rights issues with any credibility, we must first take a serious look at our own shortcomings. If we were to take seriously our own social issues, we might find that there is not much time left to be judgmental and condescending toward other countries.
I do not mean to suggest that we should not advocate on human rights issues internationally, but rather that we should do so more humbly. Also, if we are to authentically advocate for human rights issues and social justice in other countries, we must first take seriously the need to address human rights violations in our own country.
This blog was originally posted on October 23, 2013 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
Recently I returned from a trip to China where I was asked to speak at a conference entitled “Buddha from the Heart: Humanistic Psychology Maitreya Culture.” Maitreya Buddhism is a lesser-known school of Buddhist thought originating in China, particularly connected with Maitreya Buddha (i.e., future Buddha). The focus of the conference was on ways in which humanistic psychology and Buddhism, particularly Maitreya Buddhism, can help the people of China. It was an exciting opportunity to dialogue about convergences between existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism, particularly related to how they each can positively impact the world.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
Context: Religion and Psychology
It is important to discuss this with a disclaimer. Neither the conference nor this blog are suggesting that existential-humanistic psychology is a Buddhist psychology. When talking about religions and psychology, it is important that we do not reduce one to the other. Also, while there may be a place for religious psychologies, I believe that it is vitally important that existential and humanistic psychology remain unattached to religion at the foundational level in order to work with clients from their own religious or spiritual framework instead of imposing our own.
At the same time, it is interesting that existential-humanistic psychology often appears to share a great deal with the spiritual and religious wisdom traditions. With Buddhism, there certainly are a number of interesting convergences.
Convergences
One important convergence is on suffering. Buddhism and existential-humanistic psychology view suffering as a given, not something that can easily be overcome or just coped with. Additionally, both recognize the value in suffering as well as other emotions that are uncomfortable. From Buddhist and existential-humanistic perspectives, our uncomfortable emotions and suffering are something for us to explore and learn from. There are even similarities in how individuals can learn from these emotions. It is important, however, not to reduce this into thinking that existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism approach suffering the same way or are in complete agreement.
Within Buddhism, there is a spiritual end where the eventual goal is to escape the cycle of suffering. However, this is something that one strives for over a lifetime or many lifetimes. In existential-humanistic psychology, the goal is to change one’s experience of suffering in order to transform the experience of suffering, increase one’s selfawareness, live more authentically in the face of suffering, and achieve personal growth.
Existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism both value the experiential realms. First, experience is understood as a valid way of knowing. In much of psychology, there is a strong rational bias and often a distrust of emotion and subjective experience. While existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism are not irrational or antiintellectual, they recognize that there is more than one valid way of knowing. Additionally, the growth and healing process is often understood as experiential in both existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism. One limits their growth and healing if growth and health are confined to the cognitive level and do not incorporate an experiential component.
Both value mindful awareness. I have, at times, been frustrated with the mindfulness craze in psychology. It’s not that I do not value what it has to offer, but rather that I think it is a distortion to think of this as something new. Existential psychology and other depth psychologies long have advocated for approaches quite similar to mindfulness long before mindfulness entered the psychology lexicon. Additionally, I also have some concern that mindfulness, as it originated in Buddhism, is quite different than the mindfulness that is often integrated into psychology today, particularly in the West. Despite these challenges, both existential psychology and Buddhism believe there is a value in a nonjudgmental or inquisitive awareness of one’s cognitive, emotional, and bodily experiences.
Last, both Buddhism and existentialhumanistic psychology are growth oriented and recognize human potential. Although there are many variations across the different approaches to Buddhism, there is rather consistent growth-oriented focus in which individuals, through selfdevelopment, attempt to continually grow and embrace their Buddha nature. Similarly, existential-humanistic psychology advocates toward helping individuals achieve their potential rather than focusing solely on overcoming problems.
Conclusion
This post has just touched upon some of the convergences of existential-humanistic psychology and Buddhism. Each of these convergences could be fleshed out in much greater detail and others could be added. While there is much to learn from being in dialogue, it is also important to take seriously the differences, particularly as both seek different ends. When only the convergences are considered, then distortion and false agreement will ensue. Through dialogue, I am confident that both Buddhism and existential-humanistic psychology can grow and advance. For existential-humanistic psychology, in particular, I believe this can further advance the field’s emergent multicultural perspectives.
This blog was originally posted to the New Existentialist Blog on June 25, 2013. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
My travels across China always spur reflections on relationships and, in particular, friendship. My most recent trip earlier in June was no different. One night, my good friend Mark Yang and I, had dinner with some friends in China. One of our colleagues from China witnessed Mark and I presenting together several times over several years. She commented on how evident our friendship was when presenting together, noting this added something to the presentation. This prompted me to once again reflect upon the role that friendships have played in my life. Although friendship has been essential in each phase of my life in different ways, in this piece I am going to reflect upon three potent periods of friendship in my life.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
Graduate School: The Discovery of Depth
In graduate school, I was blessed to be part of a close group of friends who navigated the program together. Beginning in our first days, we formed a study group. While the studying was important, it was the friendships that really sustained us and helped me survive graduate school. With these friends, I first began recognizing the potential depths of friendship. In regards to my professional development, I often have said that I learned more sitting on the decks of our homes on the evenings and weekends than I did in the classroom. It was there, as we discussed what we were taught, that the lessons were learned and became real. Friendship and dialogue transformed knowledge into meaning.
During those years of graduate school, we experienced marriage, divorce, the death of a spouse, deep disappointments, and many celebrations in our personal lives. Our lives were forever changed in these vulnerable and emotional moments. Until graduate school, I had never experienced such depth of acceptance in my friendships before. Even when I exposed things I was ashamed about, I was accepted. During my period of brokenness, their friendship was even more evident. This allowed me, for the first time, to begin to discover myself on a deeper level.
Many similarities exist between deep friendships and therapy, and if everyone were able to find and maintain such relationships, psychotherapy would be much less necessary in our world today. For me, it was these early relationships where I was able to be seen and begin to see and know myself. When I see these friends today, much has changed, especially the frequency of contact, but the depth of friendship has not.
The Early Professional Years: Transformation
Shortly after graduate school, I experienced a number of challenges in my life. It was also the richest period of friendship in my life thus far. As I reflect back, I am quite aware that with many of the difficult challenges I faced, I most likely would have retreated into the poor choices had it not been for some close friends.
In this period, the friendships not only helped me continue to see myself more clearly, but they also helped me grow in my confidence and courage to be myself. I started to recognize the ways I had been who I was expected to be instead of following my own values. My friends helped me to become a more centered person. It is no mystery that during this period I also began to develop my voice. I began writing and believing that what I wrote really mattered. I wrote professionally, and I wrote personally. And I began teaching, teaching with confidence.
Since this period, I have often felt that if not for two of my friends, in particular, I may have not found my voice. Writing now is quite central to who I am as a person, and I frequently think I owe these two friends a thank you for everything I write. Without them, the words may have never had to courage to find their way to expression.
Photo By Louis Hoffman, PhD
The China Years
For seven years, I have been traveling to China, focusing on the psychology of religion and, in particular, existential psychology. My good friends Mark and Xuefu have been part of all I have done in China with existential psychology. I am proud of what we have accomplished. We have introduced existential psychology to thousands of people. I have said many times that I feel that, with the exception of my family, I make more of a positive impact on the world during my two weeks in China each year than I make the other 50 weeks. Each year, I find evidence of this reality that continues to draw me back.
When I look back at what we have accomplished, I am thankful that we have always placed the relationships and, in particular, our friendships as our top priority. In facing many challenges, it is the friendships that have helped me persevere with the work. After two successful conferences, countless presentations, a book, and much more, I realize that little of this would have happened on our own. Had each of us been working individually, we might have had an impact, but surely nothing close to the impact we have had. Furthermore, had we only been working as colleagues, I doubt our impact would be nearly as great. The friendship is the most essential ingredient.
While much of what Mark, Xuefu, and I have focused on is relevant to existential psychology and our professional lives, these friendships have impacted my life much more deeply than just the professional level. When I have encountered challenges, these two friends are consistently among those who I count on for support, encouragement, and advice.
Conclusion
It is hard for me to conclude this blog. In part, I feel I have not done justice honoring the depths of the friends to whom I have referred. Also, I feel bad that I have not acknowledged some other very important friends in my life. However, this is not because of the lack of impact these other friends have had on my life, but because I focused on three important periods in my life where friendship played a particularly important role.
Relationships, including friendships, are often hard, too. During a recent interview in China, the interviewer noted that there must have been conflicts in the years Mark and I worked together and then asked how we worked through them. She is correct. Any relationship of substantive depth has challenges. But when I look back at how these relationships have served me well, it is evident that any challenge related to these friendships is worth it. Thanks to our openness and honesty with each other, the challenges for Mark and I have been quickly worked through.
To conclude, I want to share a few lines from one of my favorite songs, My Friends, by Dar Williams.
Sometimes I see myself fine Sometimes I need a witness And I like the whole truth, But there are nights I only need forgiveness. Sometimes they say, I don’t know who you are But let me walk with you some And I say, “I am alone, that’s all You can save me from all the wrong I’ve done,” But they are waiting all the same With their flashlights and their semaphores, And I’ll act like I have faith And like that faith never ends But I really just have friends.
This blog was originally published April 28, 2014 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
No more compassion for another Just one more salesman’s pitch Greener pastures still are searched (Zagata, 2014)
Death seems ever surrounded by clichés that protect the heart from experiencing the pain and grief that are needed for healing. Long ago, I discovered that most people just didn’t know what to do with hurting people, particularly those suffering a deep loss.
In my own life, when encountering difficult losses and life transitions, although I needed people, I found that I often first turned to writing. The poems provided a safer place where I knew I would be accepted without being told in some oversimplified way that it would get better.
We somehow forget that grief serves a purpose. It is not just something that we have to endure to get to the other side. Grief brings us something. In our pain, it gives us a gift. Poetry can help us accept and honor this gift. As Levertov (1988) writes:
Ah, grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog who comes to the back door for a crust, for a meatless bone I should trust you. I should coax you into the house and give you your own corner, a warm mat to lie on, your own water dish.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
Healing and Preserving
We seem to have a problem with healing in contemporary culture in that we fail to distinguish healing from being “cured.” Healing, at times, has an endpoint, but often is a lifelong process. Regardless, healing always leaves its mark. Even healing from a simple cold or a small cut leaves us with the imprint somewhere in our consciousness that we are vulnerable. From this awareness, we are changed. We live knowing we could again be cut, catch a cold, or worse.
In grieving, we simultaneously begin the healing process and preserve our pain; both are important. With grief, healing is something that takes a lifetime. One of my first grief writing experiences was at the loss of my good friend and mentor, Robert Murney. A picture of the two of us framed with a poem I wrote for him still hangs in my office. There are days, such as today, when I look at this preserved grief, and tears come to my eyes. And I am thankful. Those tears are part of the love, the friendship, and the lessons of our relationship. To stop crying would be to let go not just of the pain, but also the love, the joy, and the meaning. This is not masochistic; I don’t enjoy the pain. Rather, the pain is mixed with something else that makes the pain worth it and transforms the pain. Over time, the pain has changed, but I know it will never fully go away.
Poetry is a powerful tool to preserve the deeper meanings. In my collection of poems, I see preserved so much love, so much pain, so many lessons, and so much more.
Grief, Poetry, and Relationship
When my dog, Amaya, died, I was devastated. I knew some would understand, but others would think, “She was just a dog.” Whether these words were ever uttered, the sentiment was easy to recognize. While driving home the night that Amaya died, a poem was already beginning to form in my head. Once home, I immediately took to the keyboard. Once the poem was finished, I felt an immediately shift in my emotions. The grieving was done, but rather the processing of emotions along with the creating and preserving meaning had begun. Like a therapist, the poem facilitated the process.
Once the poem was finished, I immediately sent it off to five friends who I knew would understand the depth of this loss for me. As I received responses from them, I could feel the gap in my support system begin to mend. Part of what grieving does is that it serves to draw people in. When we lose someone important, we also lose the role that they played in our lives, frequently leaving a gap in our support system. When we grieve with others, it pulls people in, strengthening those relationships and repairing our support system.
I could have simply written to each of these friends saying, “Amaya died. I am devastated,” and I would have received their support and concern. Yet, it would not have been the same. Through the poem, they had a deeper sense of what I was going through. Expressing my pain to them in the form of poetry was also important and meaningful for me.
Poetry as a Witness
A few years ago, my mother became very sick and was in a coma for some time as doctors tried to figure out what was wrong. During these months of her illness, I regularly flew back and forth between California and Nebraska to be with her and my father. Fortunately, over time, they were able to diagnose the problem, and my mother lived. On those long plane rides, I often sat in my seat writing poems, hiding the tears that accompanied them from the strangers surrounding me.
The next Christmas, I created a book of these poems and some pictures as a gift to my mother. It was very meaning for all of us. It expressed my love and concern for my mother, but also served as a witness to what transpired those months while my mother lay there asleep in a coma. I have similarly documented other journeys and losses in poetry. These poems stand as a witness to the grief as well as to the healing.
Poetry as Concern
The first poem I ever shared with a client was written after a powerful session where she spoke to her feelings of an impending loss. Her feelings were quite complex so that they were difficult for her to express and difficult for me to reflect. After the session, I found myself immediately immersed in a poem. After sharing this with a colleague, I decided to share the poem, which was written as if in her voice, with the client. As the poem was finished, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I always thought you understood, now I know.”
For many months, I had conveyed my care, concern, and understanding with this client, and she made progress in therapy. All the words of heartfelt concern and understanding could not convey the same depth of care as did the few words that comprised the poem.
Conclusion
I am going to close with a poem that I wrote concurrently with this piece, shifting back and forth between the narrative and the poem. It conveys much of the same message as the many words above. Yet, like the poem shared with my client, I imagine that the poem may be more effective than the narrative.
Death and Poetry
Death is ever surrounded By clichés. Words drawn from lips As metal shards to a large magnet Clinging with force
Sharp to touch. Familiar words can be prickly On the lips of those Standing at a distance. Using words of comfort From afar Hiding insecurities and fears Partially known at most.
I retreat to my juggled words Searching for the right combination To fit the pieces of my heart. With each toss Words are cradled gently Softly put in place. Poems sometimes Are safer than people.
As words take their shape I ponder who can take This truth. For some the words obfuscate. For others They strengthen the walls Or break through too quickly. Then there are to those Who hold the words With all the love and the heart in which they were created. Leading the way to those Who, with my heart, I can trust.
This blog was originally published July 17, 2012, on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
Existential therapists prefer to talk about the here-and-now and the future, and often avoid the past. This can be a mistake. In part, this is rooted in a corrective to approaches to psychology excessively focused on the past. A holistic psychology must equally value the past, the present, and the future as these are all part of who we are. I wanted to take a couple of blogs to speak to this in my own life, through speaking about the existential lessons I learned from my parents.
About Lynn Hoffman
My mother grew up in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Her family struggled financially, often fishing and hunting as much to provide food as for enjoyment. She and her parents worked hard for her to be able to attend college and become a teacher. Her pay at her first job was not a livable wage, but she persisted because she believed in it. A few years later this school closed. Several years later, she and a friend began Noah’s Art preschool in the old Sunday School building of the church we attended. She returned to school earning a Masters in early childhood education, which has been utilized mostly as a being a grandparent to her own grandchildren as well as many other children near where she lives. Throughout her life, she has always remained highly dedicated to volunteering at her church, even when not always recognized for her hard work and contributions.
Facing Death
Many times I have been struck my mother’s compassion for the dying. I first remember this when the pastor’s wife at the church I grew up in became very ill and eventually died. My mother volunteered to be very active in caring for her and organizing others to help with her care. This was more than just caretaking; my mother approached death with an openness to learning from it and to allowing it to deepen relationships. As I listened to her stories of caring for Ang, I was touched and at the same time frightened. At this time in my life, I knew very little of death and these stories brought death closer to me, even though I was not yet ready for the lessons. Yet, I still observed that this changed my mother, and I was certain that it also was transformative to our pastor and his wife.
In the coming years, I watched as she was close with her father, and later, her mother, through their deaths. And then there were a number of women in her community that she took to visiting in nursing homes and stayed with through hospice and their death. She cared deeply for these people and stayed with them right through their death. It takes courage to face death so directly and keep loving.
The most evident lesson about existential psychology that I learned from my mother was regarding death. The United States, as well as many cultures around the world, seem to be avoiding death and the dying. Many therapists avoid grief work and work even harder to avoid working with people who are dying. Maybe the greatest example of our intolerance of death and grieving are the attempts to pathologize it, such as the DSM5’s consideration of shortening the period that could be considered normal grieving. Existential psychology, conversely, appears to be much more open to approaching death directly.
Facing Conflict
I often say that my brother is my best friend, but it was not always true. When growing up, John and I often did not get along very well. When we would fight, my mother would send us to our rooms and tell us that we could not leave until we worked it out on our own. As John and I were both very stubborn (still can be), we often stayed in the room for a long time before we left. When we finally left, we had to tell mom how we worked it out. My mother does not like to take credit for this as wisdom, but I believe this is exactly what it was.
My nature is to avoid conflict. I can feel this deep within my body. Yet, over the years, I have been able to overcome this and find the courage to face conflict directly and confidently. I believe much of this began with the lessons I learned with my brother from my mother’s discipline. It took many years for me to implement beyond family, and I still often dread conflict, yet I have the courage to deal with it directly. I am sure there are others through the years that wish I had not learned this lesson, yet I am very thankful for it.
Compassion
When growing up, my mother always seemed to have a compassionate project—actually several—that she was committed to. These ranged from commitments to wildlife causes, such as saving the wolves, to friendships and relationships in our local community. No matter what was going on in my mother’s life, she seemed to always need an outlet for her compassionate side.
My mother often did not speak much about her compassion projects, but in many ways this made them a more powerful witness. These just seemed to flow from her. As I grew older, I found myself with a strong desire to nurture and maintain my own compassionate side and have come to see compassion, along with love, as one of my deepest core values. I know that this compassion began with my mother.
Service and Diversity
I still have vivid memories of watching as other people were credited for work that I knew my mother had done, often because she was a woman. She gave so much of her life in service, yet often was not recognized. Although she did not do the work for recognition, I knew that this hurt, as it is only human. Yet, she never wavered in her commitment to serving. My mother deeply believed in the causes she was committed to and preserved for the meaning of this service.
My observations of my mother’s service had two powerful impacts upon me. First, it inspired me to a deep commitment to work serving others. Second, it was one of my first lessons on diversity, which has been a strong focus of my personal and professional life. I watched many times where women, including my mother, were not given credit for their work and had their experience discredited. My interest in diversity began through watching what I viewed as mistreatment of women. It was not the more obvious forms of mistreatment, such as domestic violence, but it was evident to me that what I observed was wrong. This lesson began a lifelong commitment to diversity for me.
Conclusion
It is easy to forget where we have learned some of the lessons that influence us in our lives, including the lessons we learn from our parents. I have often thought that it was unlikely for a rural Midwest boy to grow up and become an existential psychologist. But when I look at the lessons I learned from my mother, it begins to make sense. The seeds were being sown.
This blog was originally published October 5, 2012 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
My father, Clarence Hoffman, grew up the fifth child in family of eight in rural South Dakota. He went to college to become an agriculture teacher who sold insurance on the side. One of his friends once told me that at one point he debated between going back to school to become a minister or going into insurance. He decided he could more practically help people in insurance than in the ministry, so became an insurance salesman. This certainly is not a typical route to the insurance industry these days!
After winning the Broadcaster’s Educator of the Year Award, he left education to pursue insurance fulltime. He began in a small office with one employee in Charter Oak, Iowa, but before long had several agencies across Western Iowa and a growing number of employees. I always imagined that his reason for going into insurance – to help people – was probably why he was so successful. Later, he was recruited to running for the state legislature where he served for 10 years. His success is evident through his many awards, such as Independent Insurance Agent of the Year and being inducted into the Iowa Insurance Hall of Fame. Yet, I think his greatest contributions to society are those that he, himself, may not recognize.
Local Therapist & Listener
One day back when I was in high school, a friend of mine said to me, “Hey, I stopped in and had a good talk with your Dad.” I asked what about, thinking it was likely about the upcoming football game. To my surprise, he just wanted to talk to my father about life and what he was going through. Over the years after that, I noticed more and more of my friends did this: They stopped in to talk with my father about their problems and about life in general. It was not just my friends, but many people in the local community. When I grew up in rural Iowa, if you wanted to see a therapist, you would often need to drive over an hour to find the nearest one. People turned mostly to family or one of the local ministers. Or, as I learned, they turned to my father.
The great need for therapy in our society is due, in part, to the failure of society in taking care of people through our families, friends, and communities. Therapy is something we created and then reified (i.e., made into a thing, something real) and now treat with great reverence. Yet, what my father did was often just as effective as therapy, yet it was free. He just offered himself as a caring person and listened. In existential therapy, it is advocated that it is the relationship and the therapist’s presence that is healing. This is what my father offered.
Becoming More Emotionally Available
Growing up in rural South Dakota heavily influenced by German culture, my father was educated in the stoic lifestyle. Emotions were not something that he readily shared or was comfortable with. Yet, when my brother and I were young, he knew this was something that we needed from him. He read and pushed himself to become more emotionally available to be able to meet our emotional needs. I am certain this was highly influential on both my brother and myself, and likely played a role in me becoming a therapist in a psychological tradition that deeply values the breadth of emotional experience.
As a therapist, one of the questions I nearly always ask my clients is: “How were emotions expressed or viewed in your family growing up?” This sets the stage for how people experience emotions throughout their life. For my father, they were viewed with caution. Yet, he helped my brother and I learn to accept and value our emotions as a natural part of being human.
On Being Human
One of the greatest gifts my father taught me was to self-reflect. I remember clearly the day when my father told my brother and I that he and my mother were not perfect parents, and that it was important that John and I reflect on what they did right and what they did that did not work as well. At that time, I still idealized my father and could hardly imagine him making a mistake. Yet, his teaching us that he was not perfect was very influential. It helped me think more about how I was raised, and it helped me to be able to begin accepting that I, too, was not perfect.
Through the years since this time, I have often thought of what my father said that day when engaging in my own self-reflection. My father, who was greatly admired and respected in our community, modeled to me that we are all imperfect and that it was okay to be imperfect. This lesson began in me a continual process of self-reflection that I continue through this day.
Disconnected Academics
My brother and I are both academics, and married to academics. All four of us are employed at universities, published authors, and deeply committed to higher education. Yet, my father has often been quite leery of academics. As a politician, he was concerned that many academics were great at producing theories, but so disconnected to the real world that their theories often had little practical application outside of the classroom and textbooks. As you can imagine, this leads to interesting dinner conversations!
To a large degree, I agree with my father, and for reasons closely connected to my existential foundation. Existential theory values the importance of real world experience and applications. It is unfortunate that this rich, practical theory too often is misunderstood as an excessively abstract, detached philosophy. Yet, existential psychology would agree with my father and say that if you are not applying your knowledge in the real world, it is essentially meaningless. However, an existential practice my also state that we cannot help but apply our philosophies in the real world; they are always with us, informing what we see, the meaning we derive from the world, and shaping our responses.
As a therapist, particularly an existential therapist, I have always felt it was very important to remain active in providing therapy, conducting supervision, and doing scholarship (theory and research). In doing these things, I am a better teacher. In being engaged in applying existential psychology in the world, I am also a better scholar and researcher.
Conclusion
In recent months, I have written a number of tributes to friends and family. Such tributes have long been important to me, beginning when I first wrote a tribute to one of my graduate school mentors, Robert Murney. These tributes are not just an honoring of people important to me, but a living of my existential values. In the existential approach, relationship is always central to practice. However, existential psychology is something that should be lived, not just thought. Too often, people do not understand how to apply these abstract ideas in the real world. My hope is that writing these tributes will 1) honor these people who have been very important in my life and 2) illustrate how existential psychology is lived in the real world, even beyond the therapy office.
My father was a great existential teacher, though he has never, to my knowledge, studied existential thought. He was engaged in the world and engaged with people. He was aware of the challenges in living and sought to respond to them the best that he could. When many people look to evidence of his success, they would point to his success in business, his accomplishments as a politician, and his awards. These are nice, but they are not the true measures of his success. My father now lives in Denison, Iowa, the town where Donna Read, star of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” grew up. The town now celebrates Donna Reed and this movie, with remembrances of the movie all over town. This seems fitting. My brother and I have often remarked how much my father resembles George Bailey; he is far to humble to recognize the powerful ways he has influenced people in his everyday life beyond the more evident markers of success. It is as a father, a friend, and a citizen that father has made his greatest impact. They run deeper and will last longer than the plaques on his wall and the trophies on his shelves.
This blog was originally published on November 29, 2012, on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
At the 2012 Existential-Humanistic Institute Conference, John Galvin presented on the topic of “Existential Activism.” It was a wonderful presentation that led to many interesting thoughts and discussions. Although I had long aspired to being socially responsible, I never considered myself an activist prior to a colleague referring to me as one. When this occurred, I was surprised. My vision of an activist was someone who spent much of their time involved in protests, marches, promoting petitions, and similar activities. I have come to recognize that this is too narrow of a definition of an “activist.”
Prior to Galvin’s presentation, I had given some thought to an existential approach to activism, and even developed a section of a course on socially engaged spirituality relevant to this topic. However, Galvin’s presentation inspired me to give some more thought to this topic.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
A Zhi main Existential Foundation for Activism
Activism, at its best, is a complex process that is about more than an issue or cause. It is rooted in an honest, direct facing of many interrelated factors. This is represented in the idea of zhi mian, a Chinese concept that means “to face directly.” Zhi mian is a unifying concept that calls for people to face themselves, others, and life directly while emphasizing that facing each one of these requires simultaneous facing of the others.
Facing life directly and honestly is frequently what inspires one to activism. For example, much of the world has turned a blind eye to the horrible conditions in Darfur. When one becomes aware of what is really occurring in Darfur, many feel compelled to speak out for the many who are suffering in this region and begin to take action.
Authentic activism also calls us to face others directly. Too often activism is associated with anger; however, at its best, it is rooted in empathy. There are two aspects of this empathy; however, one is frequently neglected. It is easy to recognize the need for empathy for the individuals who are suffering, but we must also consider the importance of empathy for individuals or groups holding a different perspective that we seek to persuade through our advocacy. Some times this means empathy for the people occupying the role of oppressor. I will speak to this aspect of empathy in more detail shortly.
Existential activism also emphasizes facing oneself directly when engaging in activism. In particular, there are at least two important considerations of this aspect of zhi mian. First, it is important to consider why one is drawn to the particular issue and the motivation for advocating for it. Individuals often are drawn to be an activist for causes that are close to their heart. While people are often more effective advocating for issues they are passionate about, it is easy for this to cloud one’s judgment at times. Regular, honest self-reflection is vital in being an effective activist.
Second, it is necessary to face oneself directly regarding what one hopes to achieve through activism. It is easy for egos to get intertwined with causes, especially when one begins gaining some recognition for his or her activism. Shifting the focus from advocating for a cause to promoting oneself impedes effectiveness and often introduces some destructive elements.
Activism without an Enemy
What is the ideal for mental health, then? A lived, compelling illusion that does not lie about life, death, and reality; one honest enough to follow its own commandments: I mean, not to kill, not to take the lives of others to justify itself.
(Becker, 1973, p. 204)
This quote by Ernest Becker is challenging for activism, especially if we interpret “kill” metaphorically. Activism tends to be activism against something, someone, or some group. In the discussion following Galvin’s presentation, I commented that there is a big difference between an activism for something, as opposed to an activism against something. When advocating against, too often we quickly turn those who we are advocating against into the enemy. We assume negative motives, we disconnect from our empathy, and we blind our self to any counter arguments that may be valid. As Sam Keen (1991) states, “In the beginning, we create the enemy. Before the weapon comes the image. We think others to death and then invent the battleaxe or ballistic missiles with which to actually kill them. Propaganda precedes technology” (p. 198). Keen goes on to state that the true heroes are those who can look inside themselves, acknowledging their own shadow elements and potential for evil. This skill is necessary for the activist.
Existential activism should be rooted in a bold empathy, one that is courageous enough to take an empathic approach to the oppressor as well as the victim. When this approach is taken, it helps the activist have greater sensitivity and wisdom when engaging those who disagree with our perspective on the cause we are advocating for.
Politics provides many examples of this. As is evident, there are good people on both (or many) sides of most political issues. Yet, in contemporary partisan politics, the tendency is to assume negative motivations on the part of those who disagree with our viewpoint and quickly turn them into the enemy instead of partners with a different perspective about how to improve conditions in our country. This is too easy. Furthermore, this stance is not one that is effective in most situations.
Activists are called to go beyond selective empathy, to engaging the world with an empathic stance. This is not to say there are not times when it is necessary to condemn individuals, groups, or acts as evil. Clearly, there are times to advocate against. However, this is not our first calling. Our first calling it to understand empathically, to allow people and groups to be innocent until proven guilty, and to seek change through compassion before condemnation.
Systemic Understanding
Although existential psychology has not always given adequate attention to systemic issues, it is important to do so when considering existential activism. Activism always occurs in a context, and good activism should always take into consideration how best to advocate within a particular context.
I worry that activism too often seeks extremist ends without an openness to compromise. It has a tendency to seek big changes in quick time frames. Often, this is not how effective change occurs within a system. When change occurs too quickly or too radically, it can create a lack of stability that can, in some instances, be ineffective and even dangerous. Of course, there are also times when quick or radical change is what is necessary. Yet, often the most successful forms of activism will promote a gradual, sustained change over time that allows for compromise and respects the interconnected, complex systemic issues.
Content and Process
In psychotherapy, we often separate content from process. The same is important when considering activism. Existential activism can inform both content and process. It helps us identify important causes, but it can also help us give consideration as to how to go about activism.
Learning to be an effective activist is challenging and complex in ways quite similar to becoming an effective psychotherapist. There is a great deal of knowledge needed that must be continually updated in order to be an effective activist. There are also challenging interpersonal and leadership skills, and a broader awareness of the interplay between individual, group, and larger social systems, which need to be developed and refined over time. I am thankful for places like Saybrook University, and their Social Transformation Concentration, that helps prepare individuals for this complex calling.
Conclusion
Existential activism is bold enough to speak the truth and, when necessary, confront evil while remaining compassionate enough not to create enemies through disagreement. It is honest enough to recognize when our motivations shift from our ego to our heart and when our own issues may harm our cause. Existential activism is audacious enough to take an empathic stance toward various sides and individuals involved with the issue, not just those who share our perspective. It is courageous enough to continually confront ourselves as we confront others. Existential activism is patient enough to let change gradually unfold and wise enough to adjust our approach to activism to the context. Finally, existential activism is humble enough to always remember the root of activism is beyond us.
This blog was originally published March 18, 2014 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
“We don’t need to talk about diversity; we’ve got that covered.” Whenever I hear these or similar words, I immediately am skeptical and on guard. In fact, I would say that statements of this sentiment are among the most common microaggressions in contemporary culture. When it comes to diversity, we never have it covered; it’s a work in progress at best.
Even where we expect institutions to be good at diversity, there are still significant problems. Higher education has been one of the fields voicing the strongest commitments to multiculturalism and diversity. Yet, in the last several months, there have been a number of significant stories that evidence failures in the academy when it comes to diversity. If our institutions preparing the next generation of leaders are failing on diversity, it will be that much more difficult to actualize the change that is needed.
In the Fall of 2013, UCLA students produced a video voicing concern about the underrepresentation of African American males at UCLA. The video noted that 65 percent of the African American males were undergraduate athletes. More recently, Harvard students were featured in a photo campaign titled, “I, too, am Harvard,” about their experiences at Harvard. The photo campaign reflected the pervasiveness of the microaggressions and racism experienced by many students at Harvard.
Photograph taken by Louis Hoffman, PhD
The Tyranny of Excuses
When pointing out statistics and demographics about diversity problems, it is common to quickly be met with excuses. When advocating for increasing diversity at a previous place of employment the response was, “We cannot get qualified students and faculty to apply.” This is not an excuse, but an indictment. If recruiting diversity is difficult, one must consider systemic issues that may be contributing to this problem. For example, it should be considered where the recruiting is occurring. Additionally, it is important to examine if there are aspects of the organizational culture or the way that the organization presents itself that discourages diversity in subtle ways.
Another common excuse for the lack of diversity is the historical context. When voicing concern about the imbalance between men and women in awards, fellows, and board members within the Society for Humanistic Psychology, this occasionally was met with the response that this is just due to history, suggesting that it is really not a current issue of concern. There is a degree of truth in that there is a historical context that helps explain aspects of the discrepancy. However, when history is used to justify, then it can easily become an excuse.
Tyrannies of Resistance
It is customary that the president of the Society for Humanistic Psychology sets the theme for the society’s program at the American Psychological Association. During my year as president, I chose a theme related to diversity. After selecting a diversity theme, I received an email voicing concern that priority would be given to people representing diversity instead of the quality of the proposals. Nothing was ever said suggesting the privileging of proposals by people representing diversity would occur. It was merely an assumption.
While it would be unfair to assume the reason this particular concern was voiced, it was similar to common resistances. First, it is common for people to fear the loss of their privilege. When people become accustom to privilege, it is natural to have some anxiety about losing it. I admit, as a White male of privilege, I have experienced this fear at times. I do my best to remain mindful of these fears when they occur so that I can avoid responding and acting based upon them.
Second, it is often assumed that the only way individuals representing diversity will obtain jobs or have proposals or papers accepted is if they are given special consideration. This is quite different than the fear of loss of privilege as it frequently reflects a deeply negative view of people from particular groups, viewing them as inferior or lesser than in some essential ways. This is often reinforced when cultural differences are reflected in writing and scholarship styles. Common academic standards reflect cultural biases. It is often argued that the more objective, distanced style of scholarly writing is just good writing, which denies the cultural preferences implicit any writing styles. Good, scholarly writing can come in many styles and varieties. The claim of universal standards of what is good can be used as a form of resistance and justification.
Resistance comes in many other forms, too. It is commonly advocated that as long as we have a variety of ideas, theoretical approaches, or epistemologies, that we do not have to consider representation. Resistance can come in fears of a change in the organizational culture or fear of the introduction of conflict. Another common form of resistance is tokenism, which is often represented in trying to look more diverse without really addressing the deeper forms of diversity. As an example of this, when serving on a search committee that was considering the application of an impressive candidate who happened to be a woman of color, a person on the search committee commented, “If only she was disabled.” I have heard variations of this extremely offensive comment in too many settings. The implicit message is that if we can represent multiple forms of diversity in one individual then we do not have to risk more uncomfortable changes that could be part of becoming more broadly diverse.
Conclusion
We have a long way to go. Each time I reflect on the progress that has been made in regard to diversity, I can’t help coming back to this simple, evident realization: We have a long way to go. I’m sure some would read the examples I mention here and quickly dismiss them saying that they are anecdotal and not representative. Yet, that is not my experience. I witness them too often.
I often find myself getting weary of advocating for diversity and become tempted to just back off. It would be so much easier. Yet, I can’t consider this long before realizing that my weariness cannot compare to weariness of so many for whom this reality is not something they can choose to back off from—it is their daily reality. We cannot stop talking. We cannot stop advocating. I am convinced that if we stop advocating and fighting for diversity issues, we will regress, and it is sure to get worse. The only path is forward or backward; there is no standing still.
This blog was originally published March 20, 2012, on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
Self-promotion often gets a bad rap, and for good reason. Most people have experienced individuals who frequently self-aggrandize and promote themselves. These individuals often are dismissed as narcissistic and self-centered. When analyzing these self-promoters, even the arm-chair analyst knows that it is common for this to be an attempt to cover insecurities and low self-esteem. Other times it is deemed as the result of the lack of social skills and self-awareness. With such negativity associated with self-promotion, most people avoid this behavior at all costs, even to the degree of false humility.
Yet, in their book The Truth About Sucking Up: How Authentic Self-Promotion Benefits You and Your Organization, Hernez-Broome, McLaughlin, and Trovas argue that many people need to spend more time self-promoting. They suggest that self-promotion can be authentic and even generative. Although Hernez-Broome and colleagues were writing to a business audience, the applications of this book extend well beyond the business world.
HernezBroome and her coauthors argue, and provide evidence from their research, that most people do not like engaging in self-promotion. They would prefer that others recognize their talent, ideas, and product simply on the basis of their merit. Unfortunately, this rarely occurs.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
The Value of Self-Promotion
Hernez-Broome and colleagues provide a few compelling reasons why self-promotion is beneficial for individuals and their organization. First, it helps the right people to be selected for promotion and responsibility, which benefits the individual and the organization. Often, very talented people do not get recognized and promoted because they do not make themselves visible. Second, it creates opportunities to utilize one’s skills, advance in one’s career, and have increased job security.
As noted, The Truth About Sucking Up was written primarily to a business audience, so I would like to suggest additional benefits for those in academic and clinical work. First, academics spend a good deal of time contributing to the body of knowledge in their field. After spending many months, or sometimes years, working on an article or book, it is natural to be proud of the finished product and desire for it to be read. Many academics hope that once it is in print, people will magically discover it, read it, and love it. More often than not, most papers and many books seem to fall into a black hole of academic work with the author never knowing if more than a handful of people read the final product. Self-promotion can help for our work to have a positive impact on the scholarly community and practitioners who may benefit from our work, as well as turning the time invested into something more than a simple intellectual exercise and line on one’s vita.
In academia, students, professors, and universities benefit from authentic self-promotion. I have worked at a number of academic institutions with extremely talented professionals that were unknown and unrecognized because of their humility and lack of self-promotion; they did not promote themselves and the university did not promote the faculty. At other places, with much less accomplished and talented faculty, the university and the faculty helped create an appearance of accomplishment that is distorted and aggrandizing. Highlighting the work and accomplishment of faculty increases the visibility of the university, helps attract students that are excited to work with the faculty at the university, and increases the faculty’s satisfaction because they are working with students who share similar interests.
Many clinicians struggle with self-promotion, too. They want clients to come clamoring to their office because they recognize the value of therapy, the value of the therapist’s approach, and the therapist’s skill. Yet, this is not reality. Existential and humanistic therapists hope clients will just know the value of this approach to therapy and come rushing to work with them. It is becoming increasing evident that the fit between therapist and client, including the therapist approach to therapy, is just as important as the skill of the therapist. For therapists to attract clients, and clients that are the right fit for their approach, self-promotion is necessary.
The Risks of Self-Promotion
One factor leading me to write about “authentic self-promotion” is my distaste for much of the self-promotion I witness. I grow weary of the many Emails I receive of individuals promoting themselves or their product and people connecting with me on Facebook or Linkedin just to inundate me with self-promote. I appreciate the value of Facebook, Linkedin, and Academia.edu for authentic self-promotion and believe these can be used well, but more often see it used for more self-serving purposes. The difference is the motivation for the self-promotion. Authentic self-promotion emerges from a passion for the topic, content, service, or product, whereas inauthentic self-promotion is about promoting oneself or about the benefits one gets from the self-promotion, such as greater prestige or financial compensation.
In an interview on NPR, Meshell Ndegeocello gets to the heart of the distinction between authentic and inauthentic self-promotion. Although she discusses this in the context of the musical industry, it is easily adaptable to many other settings:
Either you do it for the music or you want to be a star, and those are two different things. And I just like to play music. Surround yourself with honest people, is one thing I’d say. The worst lie you can do is lie to yourself-just be clear (full interview available at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=114237531).
Inauthentic self-promotion is often rather evident and counterproductive. The irony of authentic self-promotion is that it really is not about the self at all; it is about what one has to offer (i.e., generativity).
The Paradox of Self-Promotion and Authenticity
In part due to the dualistic tendencies in Western thought, our society has a tendency to view things in a categorical manner. Existential thought, however, advocates a paradoxical view of the world that suggests categories are often insufficient. In the case of self-promotion, the paradox is that authentic self-promotion is rarely, if ever, purely authentic.
This is part of the struggle for many, like myself, who struggle with self-promotion. It has been a difficult for me to write this essay. I am quite poor at self-promotion, though hopefully improving. Often I have sat in settings where it would be natural and fitting to promote, or even just mention, my work, yet I remain quite. In wanting any promotion of myself or my work to be authentic, I often remain quiet if I am aware of any selfish motivation. Two things have helped me improve my comfort level with self-promotion. First, the acknowledgement that motivations are never pure, and that even self-promotion rooted in authenticity has some impure motives, helped me accept my discomfort without being stifled by it.
Second, in conversations with Gina Hernez-Broome (the lead author of the book), and discussing her work on this topic, I began to recognize the value of self-promotion. I still often stumble in my attempts at self-promotion; it is not natural for me. Many conversations with colleagues have assured me that I am not alone. Yet, I now recognize the value of it and often have served as an ambassador, of sorts, for authentic self-promotion.
Conclusion
Authentic self-promotion is often accompanied by a degree of discomfort. Those who are committed to keeping their self-promotion authentic and generative often are uncomfortable engaging it. Hopefully, thinking through the advantages can help individuals and organizations recognize the value of self-promotion rooted in authenticity.
This blog was originally published April 16, 2014 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
In a recent email exchange with a friend, Michael Moats, I was teasing him about having a good attitude after witnessing a scary event. What began as good-natured humor also led to an important serious conversation as Michael wisely noted, “I still think there is something here to write on about the martyrish love affair I sometimes hear with people of existentialism.” I deeply appreciate Michael’s positive attitude and believe that it reflects his deep existential nature. For those who know Michael, they can attest that he does a wonderful job at balancing zhi mian (facing life directly and honestly, including the difficult parts) and maintaining a positive attitude.
Photo by Louis Hofman
The Dangerous Lure of Suffering
“…despair is suffering without meaning” ~ Viktor Frankl (2000)
In existential psychology, we often talk of suffering and the value of suffering. While this is not intended to glorify suffering and pain, it often comes across this way. There is nothing glorious or heroic about seeking suffering for the sake of suffering. When we seek suffering for suffering’s sake, we dishonor ourselves and dishonor the deeper potential inherent in suffering. Existential psychology, like Buddhism, advocates that, “suffering exists.” Life and suffering are inseparable; this is a basic given of life. From this recognition, existential psychology often encourages people to be open to the suffering that already exists. This is an important distinction: Existential psychology does not encourage seeking suffering, but rather being open to the suffering that exists in the world.
Seeking and excessively dwelling in suffering is dangerous. It often has negative consequences for our psychological, spiritual, and physical health as well as negatively impacting our relationships. Avoiding or denying our suffering that exists, too, brings with it the same risks. Yet, being open to suffering does not necessitate such seeking of it.
Misplaced Meaning in Suffering
Existential psychology will often speak of finding the meaning in suffering. This language can be somewhat misleading. It is not the suffering itself that is meaningful, but what we do with the suffering. The “in suffering” that is being referred to is the experienced suffering resulting from being open to it. In other words, it is the meaning found while in a state of suffering that is the “meaning in suffering.”
For example, when talking about finding meaning in a tragedy, such as rape, child abuse, or a natural disaster, people will sometimes respond saying, “How can you say this was meaningful! It was not a good thing that this occurred!” Talking of the value of suffering ought not glorify tragedy or suffering. Rather, it is referring to the meaning that can be created and emerge from the tragedy. This does not convert the tragedy into something good, but rather uses the tragedy in the service of creating something good.
As a personal example, one of the things I like most about myself is that I am a compassionate, empathetic person. I am very aware that it is suffering that I experienced in my life, as well as the suffering of those I cared about, that influenced me in becoming a compassionate, empathetic person. It is not good that this suffering occurred, but I am thankful for the very meaningful gifts that emerged largely as a product of this suffering. But it was not a simple linear process of suffering and then becoming compassionate and empathetic. Rather, from an early age I learned to open myself to the suffering that occurred. Through doing this, I was able to explore my suffering and begin working to create meaning from the experience of suffering. Had I chose a different response to the suffering I experienced and witnessed, it could have led to a very different result. Thus, what is meaningful to me is what I created from my suffering, not the suffering itself.
Balance in Existential Psychology
The ability to forget the past enables people to free themselves gradually from the pain they once suffered; but it also often makes them repeat the mistakes of their predecessors. ~ Lu Xun (1923/1961)
The purpose of opening oneself to suffering is to eventually transcend the suffering. When one does this, the suffering does not necessarily go away, but it no longer has the same hold over us and we are able to experience the beauty that often is connected to suffering. For example, our suffering often deeply connects us to others who care about us or who share in our suffering. Suffering is not intended to be the end; it is just part of the journey.
Some people picture existentialists as a group of people who are always serious and maybe even at least mildly depressed. While surely this fits some people who identify as existentialists, my experience is that existentialists tend to be a rather joyful bunch embracing life, laughter, and relationships very deeply. It is critical for us to keep this balance. The principle of zhi main is to face life directly and honestly. When we do this we will experience both the joys and the sufferings of life more deeply.
Applications
I worry that some existential therapists similarly have the instinct to “go for the tears” and see this as what successful therapy is about. This can be an important part of therapy—helping clients open themselves to the pain that they are experiencing and share it. However, therapy, like life, should never glorify suffering and pain. Additionally, existential therapy should also embrace the laughter, the joy, and the celebrations. In life and in therapy, we can zhi mian the joys as well as the suffering.
Xun, L. (1961). What happens after Nora leaves home. In Y. Xianyi & G. Yang (Eds. & Trans.) Lu Xun selected works (Vol. 2). Beijing, China: Foreign Language Press. (Original work published in 1923)
