I had a very unwelcome insight the other day. I realized that my overwhelming sense of insecurity and desire to possess and dominate is simply fear. Most of my life is a fear-based attempt to have security. And of course, all attempts to possess and dominate make feel even more insecure. I am like a man dying of thirst who, in his desperation, drinks seawater.
So, now what? An insight is all very well and good, but what about the live-out part of it? What about the “So-what question”?
Well, for one thing, this insight invites me to ask certain questions of myself, whenever I find myself wanting to possess or dominate. What am I afraid of here? What do I need to do because of my fears? Or do I need to do anything? If I don’t ask the right questions, I can’t possibly get to a helpful answer.
Some people think love is the most basic human trait. Love may be the most important, but I will vote for fear being the most basic human trait.
And, admittedly, fear can be absolutely vital to my survival. But beyond the point of survival, fear is the enemy. President F.D. Roosevelt said, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” He said that in the context of the Great Depression. Here is the longer quote, which demonstrates that Roosevelt was not talking about reasonable, healthy fear:
“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is…fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”
And that is the problem, isn’t it: a fear that “. . . paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”
So, after I have acknowledged fear, I can refuse to try to possess or dominate. Instead, I can ask myself what needed efforts I can make to convert retreat into advance. Only when I acknowledge my fears and then seek to move on to positive actions can I be secure in my insecurity and fear.
“What is moral is what you feel good after.”
—Ernest Hemingway
Hemingway had a reputation as a hard-drinking man who liked the ladies. Sometimes, it is the people who struggle the most, and who are don’t always win, who know and say what is real. No matter what you or I or anyone thinks of Hemingway, he has captured a very important principle in a very few words.
A good question to ask ourselves before we say or do anything is this: “How am I going to feel about this word or action in fifteen years, fifteen days, fifteen minutes, or fifteen seconds?” You might call this “the fifteen questions.” Of course, there are two tricky things about these questions.
The first trick is to answer them honestly. Yes, my wife made me some bread pudding. But should I really have two small pieces—or one big one? Yes, I could binge on Netflix, but how am I going to feel about that afterwards? Could I say something clever (but cutting) to my sweetheart? Sure. But am I going to regret it in less than fifteen seconds?
The second trick about asking “the fifteen questions” is even more difficult, because it is an actional question: “What am I going to actually do in response to the questions? Telling myself the truth is essential, but not sufficient. You would think that, once I’ve decided that I am not going to feel good after making a certain decision, I would have the good sense not to make that decision. You would think. And often, you would be wrong.
Robert Fulghum has a wonderful book titled It was on Fire When I Lay Down on It.” In the brief musing that gives the title to the book, Fulghum acknowledges his very human tendency to know that something or someone is trouble, but not to avoid that trouble. Fulghum is not alone.
Well, I am going to feel better if I post this on my website, and eat some good, nutritious (and tasty) bean soup. Then, I’ll have a wee bit of bread pudding, and go out and mow the lawn and clean the gutters. (Thanks for the bread pudding, Babe! You’re the best!)
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