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 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 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 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)
This blog was originally published on the New Existentialist Blog on May 6, 2014. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
When I received my new insurance cards for our family’s vehicles, I was struck that on the back it reads, “Do not admit fault,” in bold print. In a previous employment setting, we were told to never admit a mistake due to the possibility it could create a vulnerability to being sued. Many therapy students, by time they graduate, are so afraid of making a mistake that could cost them their licenses that they end up being highly constrained therapists, often leading to ineffectiveness.
I was recently part of an intense disagreement that occurred within a group setting. In trying to understand and work through this conflict, I consistently attempted to recognize my contributions to the conflict and acknowledge them with an apology. Several people who were aware part of the process as well as others I consulted with encouraged me to stop admitting mistakes. Their reasons were primarily twofold. First, they noted that often I seemed to be looking for my mistakes and acknowledging things that were not really my fault. Second, they worried that this would be used against me. Although my friends and colleagues were right, I insisted on acknowledging my contributions to the problems even when minor or unintentional. I felt my integrity would not allow for me to do anything else. Additionally, I hoped that my taking ownership of part of the problem would make it easier for others to do the same. In the end, taking responsibility was ineffective, but I still feel good about my choices to take responsibility where I contributed to the problem.
It seems American culture has become terrified of responsibility. Taking responsibility is often hard enough without the cultivation of this fear. Yet, we seem to be taking this to extremes, as so often happens in the United States, and it is contributing to some rather serious problems.
Photo by Louis Hoffman, PhD
Authenticity, Zhi Mian, and Self-Acceptance
The denial of responsibility is almost inevitably an inauthentic and self-deceptive endeavor. The principle of zhi mian calls us to face ourselves, others, and the world directly and honestly. When we do this, we are flooded with the recognition that we are imperfect and responsible for many mistakes. This is part of being human.
An authentic call to responsibility pushes us toward a deeper self-acceptance (See Hoffman, Lopez, & Moats, 2013). Self-acceptance too often is intertwined with attempts to rationalize ourselves as being right or justified in our mistakes instead of embracing our humanity as imperfect creatures. Authentic self-acceptance requires that we are honest with ourselves about responsibility. Instead of seeking to justify our mistakes, we embrace them. This is not easy. If it seems to be, then one should question the authenticity and depth at which this is embraced. Yet, when we can establish a foundation of self-acceptance that is honest while deeply acknowledging our own imperfections and humanity, then we can use this self-acceptance as a foundation for responsibility.
Mutual and Collective Responsibility
The idea that ‘it takes two to have a conflict’ is a common cliché, but rarely is the deep meaning of this simple phrase lived and embraced. This cliché again points to our humanity; we are all imperfect and that even when our intentions are good, we will still make mistakes.
In my marriage, I have learned over and over that it is ineffective to try to identify and point out the mistakes that my wife is making. It is not because my wife is resistant to acknowledging her faults or mistakes; in fact, the reason has nothing to do with her. Instead, this is ineffective because of the impact it has upon me regardless of her response. When I look for my wife’s mistakes, I feel like a victim and become angry, typically about something over which I have very little control. When I focus on looking for my own mistakes, even when they are unintentional, I have a very different attitude. I am able to approach conflicts softer with greater openness.
In leadership roles in organizations, I increasingly find myself advocating for mutual responsibility. Conflicts within groups and organizations easily become polarized, with individuals or groups being blamed for the problems. This, too, is deception. Organizations and groups are almost inevitably destined to repeat cycles of scapegoating, blaming, and conflict if they cannot learn to take mutual responsibility for problems. This rather simple idea too often seems to become lofty idealism when brought into practical application.
Of course, there are always exceptions. I am not suggesting that shared responsibility is a universal. Child abuse, rape, and other tragedies have innocent victims. Yet, if we are honest, conflicts and problems where there is a single responsible part are quite rare in comparison to the pervasive examples of collective responsibility.
Conclusion
Most pieces I write for the New Existentialists I write with the hope that it may have at least some positive impact, even though most likely small. Yet, I write this piece with a sad heart, confident that it will have little to no impact. There is too much cultural pressure to the avoidance of responsibility and I don’t foresee a change or even much hope. We see this in politics, in business, in friendships, and in families. I have witnessed and experienced too many friendships and relationships end over this deep resistance to responsibility. I do not see myself as above this either. When confronted with my mistakes, my typical first reaction is defensiveness and often anger. Frequently, I act from this place instead of mindfully watching my first reaction and waiting to respond until I have more honestly analyzed the situation.
So why do I write this piece? In part, it is a confession. In part, it is to hold myself accountable to striving toward more authentic responsibility and self-acceptance. But most of all, I felt compelled to write.
This blog was originally published June 2, 2014 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog as discontinued.
Dog lovers know that picking a breed is often an important part of responsible pet ownership. It also says a lot about ourselves and can be a source of self-awareness. Choosing a pet that is a good fit is important for the family as well as for the dog. Too often, a wrong match can lead to the pet being mislabeled as a “bad dog” or not having the life that they deserve.
Dogs and Spirituality
People have often scoffed when I have said that dogs are an important part of my spirituality. I am a dog lover. I enjoy their companionship and have fun playing with dogs, but it is more than that for me. My first dog was a Siberian Husky, and my current dog is an Alaskan Malamute. These are beautiful dogs. When watching them run or pull, looking into their eyes, or being out in nature with them, I am so often amazed that these beautiful creatures have such strong human connections.
My relationship with my dogs has helped me stay connected to nature and to the earth. They remind me that we are connected with something more than ourselves and more than our species. To love and be loved in this way is powerful.
Amaya
Siberian Huskies: An Existential Breed
I had been drawn to the northern breeds, particularly Siberian Huskies, since I was a child. However, I did not get my first dog, Amaya, until I was in graduate school. We had a very deep bond, one that some of my friends and family found strange and were even critical of at times.
I learned a lot from Amaya, which I began to recognize increasingly as I used her more and more to illustrate aspects of psychotherapy. She was, in ways, a therapist and even mentor to me. She was with me through many difficult transitions in my life, including several major moves, the ending of a longterm relationship, and the loss of some people very close to me. She also was a muse, of sorts, as she served as inspiration for some lectures, professional writing, and poetry.
Over time, I began to reflect upon what drew me to the breed of Siberian Huskies. As I did, I realized that huskies tended to share many qualities of my own temperament and personality. Also, I think they represent qualities common in existential psychology.
First, Siberian Huskies are known for being pack animals, but they are also quite independent and stubborn. In this way, they provide a balance to the being a-part-of and apart-from that Bugental (1999) speaks to. Although existential psychology is often misperceived as being highly individualistic, this is not necessarily so. While some existentialists represent a more extreme individualist perspective, there tends to be a strong relational focus that balances the individualist tendency.
Amaya was a very stubborn dog. She quickly learned many commands, but she decided when she wanted to respond to them and when she would ignore them. But she was also a great companion and fiercely loyal. When I was going through a difficult period she always stayed close. Amaya was also protective, as a skunk who had the misfortunate showing an aggressive posture toward me discovered. That was not a pleasant lesson for any of us.
Huskies are considered a “working breed.” As someone who has often struggled with workaholic tendencies, this seemed fitting. Though Amaya was never trained to pull a sled or the roles often thought of with the working breed, some of the traits associated with this often showed in her perseverance.
Last, huskies are also known to be fairly intelligent and creative. In particular, they are known to be great escape artists and can be difficult to contain. Although Amaya did show that she could use these skills to get out on a few occasions, she used them more frequently to learn how to get inside as she learned to open a variety of doors over the years. Creativity, too, is a common theme in existential psychology.
Dante and Amaya
While some of these qualities were frustrating at times, I also knew that they were a part of my deep love for Amaya. I did not want a dog that was completely compliant, nor did I want a dog that was aloof. Amaya had a personality and I wouldn’t have wanted to change this. This, too, I see as being very existential. While some approaches to psychology focus on trying to change people to better fit in, the existential approach tends to help people find out who they are and want to be. There were ways that Amaya conformed to my desires, but she was always herself, too.
Conclusion
When people speak of dogs and pets in such ways, it is common to hear some scoff that this is nothing more than projection. I suppose this is a possibility and I’m sure there are times when this is true. Yet, I think there is much we can learn and discover if we are open to learning from our pets. We can learn from their way of being, but we can also learn from our relationship with them and why we are drawn to loving them the way we do.
This blog was originally published on September 18, 2013 on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
Several years ago I was teaching at a university in Colorado and a small group of us were working to fan the fire of interest in existential psychology with some success. Each year, we brought Kirk Schneider to co-teach a seminar on existential psychology. Mark Yang began joining us from China, often with some Chinese colleagues. I fondly remember one evening having dinner with Kirk and Mark in one of my favorite restaurants in Manitou Springs. Our conversation drifted to the idea of being existential evangelists. The use of “evangelist” was, in part, in jest. Yet, the idea of this always stuck with me.
The idea of “evangelism” is generally connected with trying to convert people to a particular religious perspective, most often Christianity. As hopefully is evident, our use of the idea of being an “evangelist” was not intended to in any way to suggest we wanted to convert people to or from a religious perspective, but rather to draw people into identifying as an existential therapist.
Respective Existential Evangelism
A primary challenge of any type of evangelism is to try to convert or draw people into affiliation with a perspective while being respectful of differences. Most people who know me at least fairly well recognize that I have a strong passion for the existential psychology. It is not just what I do in my professional world, it is part of who I am and part of my way of being.
Yet, I firmly believe that the world would be worse off if everyone was an existentialist. There is beauty in diversity, and this beauty is important for the world. In psychology, the diverse perspectives are essential in being able to meet the needs of diverse clientele. The dialogue between different perspectives helps advance each while too much agreement easily falls prey to group think.
The research on psychotherapy effectiveness suggests that all bona fide therapy approaches are about equally effective (CleareHoffman, Hoffman, & Wilson, 2013; Elkins, 2009; Wampold, 2001). Yet, this does not mean that it does not matter what approach to therapy one provides. The research also suggests that believing in one’s approach to therapy is more predictive of successful therapy outcomes than what we do. Thus, having a therapy orientation that one believes in is vitally important in becoming an effective therapist.
The client buying into the therapy approach is also an important predictive factor of therapeutic success, regardless of therapy orientation (Elkins, 2009; Wampold, 2001). I believe that this suggests that we should not be searching for which therapy is the most effective with which diagnosis or demographic, but rather which therapy is the best fit for a client’s values and desired way of being. If we can match the therapeutic approach that provides the best fit with who the client is, then it is more likely to be effective, and they are less likely to drop out of therapy. The different therapy approaches represent, at times, significantly different ways of being.
For instance, Cognitive Behavioral approaches to therapy implicitly value a more rational approach to living that values thinking over feeling or experience. While some existential approaches can be fairly cognitive or rational as well, in general, existential approaches value a fuller and deeper embracing of one’s emotions as well as their thoughts. Obviously, there is much more to the similarities and differences than illustrated in this one simplified example, but it does give some perspective on the implications of different therapy approaches.
As therapists, it is important for us to respect what could be termed “ontological diversity,” or different ways of being, and recognize the connection of this to different types of therapy or, at the least, different ways of implementing therapy approaches. This realm has largely been ignored as therapists go about imposing ontological perspectives on their clients without considering the implications of this and possibly without even recognizing that they are doing this. Respectful existential evangelism, or recruitment, recognizes and respects these differences while trying to avoid such ontological impositions.
Authenticity
Evangelism is often associated with coercion, converting, or attempting to change someone’s beliefs and/or values. I have never had much interest in this. Thus, it might seem that I am a rather poor existential evangelist. However, instead of trying to convert people to an existential approach, my desire to is to speak passionately about existential psychology in order to attract people individuals for whom this is a good fit.
When I have taught classes such as Theories of Personality, I will often state that I believe that I have done a very poor job teaching if everyone leaves the class identifying as an existential therapist. If all the students agree with me, I most likely have been more successful at coercion than illumination, which is never my goal.
I deeply believe that existential psychology is important, and that it can play an important role for changing the world for the better. It is from this belief and the associated passion that I hope to draw people in to existential psychology. I am confident that I have been able to do this with at least some success in my career thus far.
Conclusion
The best evangelism is not coercion or convincing others that one’s perspective is right or the best view; it is helping people explore their values and discover who they are. My experience is that when people are able to come to an understanding of what existential psychology represents as a way of being without the distortions of how it is often misrepresented, many find themselves deeply drawn to this approach. Yet, misconceptions about existential therapy are common and must be clarified. In the end, however, just sharing our passion and helping people understand the implications of existential psychology can be a very effective and authentic way of being an existential evangelist.
References
Cleare-Hoffman, L., Hoffman, L., & Willson, S. (2013, August). Existential therapy, culture, and therapist factors in evidence-based practice. In K. Keenan (Chair), Evidence in support of existential humanistic psychotherapy: Revitalizing the third force. Symposium presented at the 121st Annual Convention of the American Psychological Association, Honolulu, HI.
This blog was originally published on December 18, 2012, on the New Existentialist Blog. It was republished here after the New Existentialist Blog was discontinued.
“The citizens of a city are not guilty of the crimes committed in their city; but they are guilty as participants in the destiny of [humanity] as a whole and in the destiny of their city in particular; for their acts in which freedom was united with destiny have contributed to the destiny in which they participate. They are guilty, not of committing the crimes of which their group is accused, but of contributing to the destiny in which these crimes happened.” ~ Paul Tillich (1957)
“I call a lie: wanting not to see something one does see, wanting not to see something as one sees it…. The most common lie is the lie one tells to oneself; lying to others is relatively the exception.” ~ Nietzsche (1894/1990)
“Twenty seven dead in a Connecticut school.” Like many, I read with horror. I turned on the TV, my eyes filled with tears, and I considered picking my sons up early from school. But my sadness quickly turned to anger. In the United States, we love to talk about supposedly being the greatest country in the world. Yet, gun violence, mass killings, and our prison population are among the highest in the world. We are living in a dangerous delusion. I am not just angry at the shooter in Connecticut, but at our society for continuing to live in this mass delusion of our greatness while doing little to address the depth of our depravity.
What Existential Psychology Has to Say
One of the first things that drew me to existential psychology was its willingness to face evil without relegating evil to the other. Instead, it recognized that evil was a potential inherent in the human condition, a potential we all bear. For Rollo May (1969; 1982), the root of evil is in the daimonic, which he defines as, “any natural function that has the power to take over the whole person” (May, 1969, p. 65). Our emotional pain and suffering can easily become such a force. The daimonic, which bears conceptual similarity to Jung’s shadow, is not necessarily a destructive force. The daimonic can be a source of destruction and evil, but can also be a source for growth, creativity, and beauty.
What distinguishes whether the daimonic is used destructively or constructively is largely dependent upon our awareness and what we do with that awareness. When we repress, deny, or distort it, the daimonic becomes more powerful and the potential for evil grows (Hoffman, Warner, Gregory, & Fehl, 2011). This is why, from an existential perspective, the willingness to look at our dark side is so important. It is not just that such self-examination can lead to a more fulfilled life; it is also an ethical imperative.
For the betterment of ourselves and society, we must temper our belief in human potential with an honest accounting for our potential for evil. As William James (1902/1997) stated:
…there is no doubt that healthy mindedness is inadequate as a philosophical doctrine, because the evil facts which it refuses positively to account for are a genuine portion of reality; and they are after all be the best key to life’s significance, and possibly the only openers of our eyes to the deepest levels of truth. (p. 140)
The Exploitation of Tragedy
The tragedy of the school shootings is already transitioning to the search for answers. Yet, we will only find the answers we are willing to find. Religious leaders already ignorantly have proclaimed the cause was removing prayer from public schools while politicians have begun exploiting the tragedy with partisan politics. Blame is much easier to tolerate than self-reflection. Without doubt, the “mental illness” of the shooter will carelessly be blamed as the cause.
The tragedy of the school shootings is already transitioning to the search for answers. Yet, we will only find the answers we are willing to find. Religious leaders already ignorantly have proclaimed the cause was removing prayer from public schools while politicians have begun exploiting the tragedy with partisan politics. Blame is much easier to tolerate than self-reflection. Without doubt, the “mental illness” of the shooter will carelessly be blamed as the cause.
Most attempts to explain evil do so by identifying it outside of our individual and social identity. Evil is “them,” not “me” or “we.” If we can explain a school shooting through sin, political failure of the “other” party, or mental illness, we feel safer. If we can place the sole blame on the shooter, then we do not have to bear the brunt of the collective responsibility to which Tillich speaks. We ought hold the shooter responsible, but not in service of justifying our own irresponsibility. The etiology of violence is always more complicated than a single cause.
For instance, most people diagnosed with or meeting the criteria for mental illness are not violent. At most, mental illness may be a small contributing factor to violence, but never is it the sole cause. Violence is abnormal for those individuals diagnosed with mental illness and those who do not meet such criteria.
When we rush to diagnose these violent individuals, we quickly discount the other factors contributing to the violence. Whether perpetrated by someone diagnosable with a mental illness or not, there are always many factors that come together leading up to the act of violence.
It is tragic that we do not consider the impact of the millions of people in the nonviolent majority diagnosed with mental illness when we rush to diagnose the shooter with some type of psychiatric disorder. Many of these clients feel ashamed to be categorized with the perpetrator, further intensifying the stigmatization of mental illness.
We do not consider that many will readily lump all people diagnosed with mental disorders into the category of “dangerous,” thus further isolating these individuals. Ironically, it is such isolation that often plays a major role in causing and maintaining the psychological suffering that is diagnosed as “mental illness.” Furthermore, it is likely that isolation often is a contributing factor to violence.
Collective Responsibility
The world will not become a safer place as long as we only look to the shooter for answers. It will not be a safer place until we are willing to look inside on a personal level, and a collective level. We need to honestly examine why more mass shootings happen in the United States than any other country in the world. We need to consider why our prison population dwarfs most other countries. We need to consider why other countries, such as China, are experiencing a rise in violence as they become more influenced by the West. Though not as prominent in the news media, the same day as the school shooting in Connecticut occurred, there was a mass stabbing in China in which 22 children were stabbed. Such occurrences that once were unheard of in China are becoming increasingly common.
An honest look at contributing factors of violence in the United States means considering what we hold precious, what comforts us, what entertains us, and what we enjoy, with an openness to acknowledge that these, too, may be factors contributing to violence. A few examples may help illustrate.
First, in the United States, many enjoy violent movies, television, video games, and music, but are these worth protecting if they contribute to violence and serve as a threat to our children’s safety? Yet, not all violence is equal. Violent shows tend to impact children more than adults and violence in which the individual identifies with the perpetrator of violence is more likely to contribute to violence (Huesmann, MoiseTitus, Podolski & Eron, 2003).
Furthermore, when parents can limit exposure to violence as well as talking with children about the realistic consequences of violence and empathy for the victims, the impact may be lessoned or even reversed (Hughes & Hasbrouck, 1996). In general, moderate exposure to violence that portrays the emotional consequences for victims (as opposed to the graphic portrayal of consequences) combined with discussion of the consequences and responses to violence are less likely to be harmful. However, rarely is exposure to violence managed in this way.
Second, many people in the United States enjoy gun ownership and are responsible with their guns. However, gun ownership is higher in the United States than anywhere in the world, and we have more gun violence than anywhere in the world. Rarely does gun ownership save anyone’s life in the United States, and never has it been necessary to protect us from a tyrannical leader. However, guns regularly and frequently are used for violent crime. It may not be necessary to completely eliminate gun ownership to decrease violent crime; stricter laws on what guns can be owned, who has access to them, and how guns need to be stored may suffice. It seems evident that something, however, needs to change with gun control in the United States.
Lastly, economic disparity has regularly been connected to violent crime (Elgar & Aitken, 2011; Hsieh, 1993). At the same time, economic disparity in the United States continues at extreme levels. Are we willing to cash in an American dream that focuses on individual material success for one that places greater concern on social harmony and concern for others if it leads to significantly fewer victims of violent crime? In stating this, I am not advocating for socialism, but rather a more balanced capitalism.
Conclusion
Our first priority in response to the tragedy of the school shooting in Connecticut needs to be individual and collective grieving for the children and their families. However, we also must not allow another tragedy like this to occur without us seeking to learn from it. Our grieving ought lead to a collective, honest reflection upon the causes of violence in the United States. From this reflection, we are called to make difficult decisions about what truths we are willing to accept and what choices we will make based upon these truths. My hope is that this time we, collectively, will be wiser in how we choose to respond to tragedy.
References
Elgar, F. J. & Aitken, N. (2011). Income inequality, trust, and homicide in 33 countries. European Journal of Public Health, 21, 241246.
Hsieh, C. (1993). Poverty, income inequality, and violent crime: A meta-analysis of recent aggregate data studies. Criminal Justice Reviews, 18, 182202.
Hoffman, L., Warner, H. J., Gregory, C., & Fehl, S. (2011). Existential-integrative perspectives on the psychology of evil. In J. H. Ellens (Ed.), Explaining evil (Vol. 3: Approaches, responses, solutions; pp. 263286). Praeger.
Huesmann, L. F., MoiseTitus, J., Podolski, C., & Eron, L. D. (2003). Longitudinal relations between children’s exposure to TV violence and their aggressive and violent behavior in young adulthood: 1977–1992. Developmental Psychology, 39, 201221.
Hughes, J. N. & Hasbrouck, J. E. (1996). Television violence: Implication for violence prevention. School Psychology Review, 25, 134151.
Nietzsche, F. (1990). The antichrist. In R. J. Hollingsdale (Ed. & Trans.).Twilight of the idols/The antichrist. Penguin Books. (Original work published in 1894)
Tillich, P. (1957). Systematic theology (Vol. 2). University of Chicago Press.
