On Friendship (Part II)

Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known.

—Chuck Palahniuk

Invest in the human family. Invest in people. Build a community of those you love and who love you. In the beginning of life, when we are infants, we need others to survive, right? And at the end of life, when you get like me, you need others to survive, right? But here’s the secret; in between, we need others as well.

—Morrie Schwartz

When I was about 13, I read a book, Hatchet, where the protagonist, Brian, is stranded alone after his plane crashes in the wilderness. Brian manages to survive on meager sustenance and is eventually rescued. It was a good book, but it was the epilogue in particular that made a lasting impression on me. For the rest of his life, whenever Brian goes into a grocery store, he marvels at the variety and abundance of food. Ostensibly, because of his experience, his appreciation of food has increased. My own appreciation of food increased vicariously through Brian's (fictitious) experience.

Right, so what does any of that have to do with friendship? Well, I feel that because I was "socially-deprived" (i.e., cloistered) as a homeschooler, I have a special fascination with and appreciation of friendships. Although I joke that I didn't (or don't) have friends because I was homeschooled, there is a kernel of truth. Recently, due mostly to (1) working on a personality and friendship study, (2) having had several close friends leave, and (3) making new friends, I've been thinking a lot about friendships. Besides the topic of friendship, this post has no unifying theme.

One of the most robust findings in happiness research is that social relations are essential for well-being. This may explain why introverts tend to be more dour than their extroverted peers. (To the surprise of many who know me, I'm actually an introvert. I actually like to think of myself as an ambivert, but I always score high in introversion on conventional psychometrics.) On the other hand, although introverts by nature tend to have less social interactions than extroverts, introverts tend to prefer and have more meaningful conversations than small talk, which in turn is associated with happiness.

I've never really had a best friend (unfortunately, since having a best friend seems to be an important determinant of subjective well-being), but I've been blessed to have always had a handful of good friends. I like to think of it as having several best friends, but it probably doesn't work that way.

I am not suave/cool by any definition of those terms. I do like to think I'm cool in a dorky/nerdy sense, even though those concepts (i.e., suave/cool and dorky/nerdy) are antithetical in nature. Anyway, having been homeschooled, I think I lack some of the basic social skills (e.g., http://xkcd.com/222/) and most of the advanced ones (e.g., it takes me a while to figure out the social dynamics in groups), but I'm okay with that. First, I'm learning. Second, a friend mentioned that although I may say dorky things (e.g., the contrapositive of a true proposition is always true!), she always feels comfortable around me. Being a dork but putting others at ease is fine with me. Honestly, I actually revel in my particular brand of dorkiness. Yes, being a dork may make me less attractive as a social partner in general, but I'm not out to impress people. Besides, the friends I hang out with tend to appreciate my dorkiness.

Yes, it's true to some extent that our time and energy are limited, and thus the number of friends we can have are limited. Or, at least, there is a tradeoff in quality vs. quantity, both in friends and in the time we spend them. Then again, I like to think of friendship as being similar to the relationship between some (hopefully most) parents and their children: a parent's love isn't spread thinner with more children, it grows. Regarding time, there's a difference between chronos (objective/quantitative time) and kairos (subjective/quality time). I only see some of my closest friends once a year. Some I haven't even seen in several years, yet we still share a close bond. Similarly, a few hours of substantive conversation can make me feel closer to some friends that I've known relatively briefly compared to people that I've known for years

A friend once asked me if my friendships were based off of convenience. Meeting friends is definitely due to convenience/chance (e.g., I wouldn't have met most of my friends if they didn't happen to go to the same university; lookup "propinquity theory" if you're interested), but the friends I tend to gravitate toward and hold on to tend to be good people with perspective. By "good," I mean that they tend to be amicable, unselfish, and have a sense of social justice. My idiosyncratic definition of perspective entails sentience/consciousness, sapience, transcendence of one's self, and seeing things in a non-myopic manner. Of course, not all of my friends are epitomes of both, but the people that I'm closest to do tend to embody both ("anthropomorphic representation" and "goodness and perspective incarnate" are somewhat over the top, but not completely inaccurate).

I mentioned to a friend something along the lines of liking to hang out with people who could provide perspective. She noted, quite astutely, that that sounded like I'm using people. I had to admit that she was right and that it could be construed that way. But whether cognizant of it or not, we are always (or at least, often) using other people. Practically everything we purposefully do is, in a sense, selfish. Why do I serve in a homeless shelter? Because I like to help people. Why do you hang out with your friends? Presumably because you enjoy their company. Of course, one's "selfish" actions do not preclude benefiting others. Perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but I like to think that my friendships are mutually beneficial in one way or another. Yes, there are alternative explanations for why my friends would invite me to hang out with them--or, conversely, accept my invitations--but the most parsimonious (and IMO, plausible) explanation is that we like each other for one reason or another and mutually benefit from our interactions. Friendships are not zero-sum.

Building off of the last three points (as well as the quote by Palahniuk), be careful regarding the friends you keep. Our friends shape who we are, perhaps more so than most people realize.

For "Part I," see On Friendship (an abridged excerpt from The Little Prince).

Best Blog Post of All Time

Not my best blog post, mind you. I didn’t write it. Well, actually I did, kind of. If you’re confused at this point, thinking that this is a self-referential post, I apologize. This is a meta-post, and the post that I’m talking about is a repost below my commentary. I like the post because it manages to articulate (though not necessarily directly) a ton of wisdom (or at least values that I espouse) relatively succinctly. The post is old (six years this month), but the aphorisms are timeless.

Main points / morals / maxims

• True love is not jealous or selfish. True love is caring for another’s wellbeing and wanting them to be happy, even if that means they are not with you.
• Love is not manipulative or needy.
• Give without expecting anything in return.
• Be honest and forthright in your relationships.
• Respect others’ decisions to lead their own lives.
• Don’t begrudge others their happiness just because you’re hurting.
• Be empathetic with those who are immature. You were immature once, too.
• We are nothing without our emotions, values, and passions. They make us who we are.
• The fact that those same emotions, values, and passions may be ineffable/inexplicable does not diminish or invalidate them (see Our Two Selves). They are fundamental in their own right.
• With great power comes great responsibility (that’s the catchphrase of old uncle Ben).
• Know thyself.
• Don’t be a dogmatist.

You may have to read it a couple times to fully appreciate it, but it’s worth it. So, with no further adieu, I present the best blog post of all time*.

*Yes, this is hyperbole, but “best blog post that I’ve seen personally and can remember off the top of my head” didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

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I doubt he will read this, but I just had to get this off my chest:

I see much of myself in you. Granted, you represent a far more inexperienced, selfish, and arrogant version, but the fact remains: I feel a kinship. Unfortunately, you seem to view the situation with the eyes and heart of a dogmatist. This saddens me. Let me start again . . .

Dude, I know you're hurting, but you know what? I've known FAR more pain than your sheltered mind has EVER had to live with. Your emotional distress CANNOT justify your actions, nor your words. You possess a power, and it saddens me terribly that you do not wield such with any measure of responsibly. How can you claim a deep abiding love for her when you treat her as a child? Why do you persist in convincing her YOU know what's best - that YOU know what's right? If the "love" is true, what component of "her" can you possibly love if you demean her mind - her ability to think and decide for herself? Her free will? You see, it doesn't matter how you wish to rationalize it; word play is sophistry and nothing more. "Different attitudes . . . jeez," huh? Well, they're more important than you accredit them; attitudes are a function of values. Let me ask you, who are we without our values, our passions, our sense of the right? It doesn't matter that she can't articulate WHY she feels as she does. After all, since [when] did emotions become a function of the rational? You have it backwards: the conscious mind only justifies our choices. And why does she have to justify her choices to YOU? Why do you think she OWES you anything? Her life, her choices. She's the one that has to live with those consequences. She's the one that's been losing sleep. Granted, you may be as well. But I remind you now that she was NOT losing sleep until you thrust upon her the ultimatum. Why bring her down? Can you not simply tell her how you feel, and trust in her to do what's right for HER? Oh, wait . . . I forgot: you know better. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't feel I'm a better person than you; but I've been there before. You're still green in my eyes. You wonder how we could POSSIBLY have become as close as we have in so short a time? I know who I am. I was honest in all things. I gave her the whole of my soul, and accepted all aspects of who she was, while expecting nothing in return. You can't do that. You're not ready for that. And that's alright. But don't begrudge her HER happiness just because YOU can't find your "center" outside of her. I've told her many times that I wish her only happiness, whether that be by my side or not. I don't expect you to do the same; as I've already written, I'm certain you CANNOT do so at this time in your life. I don't hold that against you, though. I just ask that you ease up. The problem here is that you aren't making her any happier, and that's the one criterion I need for my own piece of mind.

Peace be unto you, [XXXXX]

May you find that which you so desperately seek

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Update (09/26/10 11:12AM):

I know that I often come off as being moralistic, perhaps even self-righteous. Regarding the former, in a technical sense, it's true. These are my idiosyncratic values, but I do think the world would be a better place if they were shared. Concerning the latter, (1) while I do hold high standards for myself, I often fall short of them, (2) I do not hold others to those same standards, and (3) I don't think that I'm necessarily a better person because of my beliefs and values. Anyway, I share this because (1) I believe that a person's beliefs and values are fundamental aspects of who they are, and (2) they are things to ponder even if you don't agree with them.

On Friendship (an abridged excerpt from The Little Prince)

Said the little prince, "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"

"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."

"'To establish ties'?"

"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."

"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."

…

"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time. "Please--tame me!" he said.

"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."

…

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields.”
…

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

Our Two Selves

We should not pretend to understand the world only by the intellect; we apprehend it just as much by feeling. Therefore, the judgment of the intellect is, at best, only the half of truth, and must, if it be honest, also come to an understanding of its inadequacy.
—Carl Jung

Much of my worldview is based on the idea that our minds are modular (so I figure that I might as well make this post sooner rather than later so that I can just refer back to it in the future). The extent of modularity is debated, but I focus on one major demarcation: that between our conscious mind and our unconscious mind. By necessity, this overview will be an oversimplification, but it will (I hope) suffice as a first approximation.* The two systems are characterized as follows:

• Conscious vs. Unconscious
• Cognitive vs. Emotional
• Controlled vs. Automatic
• Reason vs. Passion
• Rational vs. Irrational
• Deductive vs. Intuitive
• Reflective vs. Reactive
• Effortful vs. Effortless
• Cool vs. Hot
• Slow vs. Fast

Whereas the unconscious system is thought to be largely instantiated in the limbic system (and other primordial brain systems that we share with non-human animals), the conscious system is thought be instantiated in the prefrontal cortex.

For some, this will be a novel idea. For others, this explanation will resonate as being intuitively true. Indeed, numerous thinkers throughout the years have spoken about these two systems. Take, for instance, (St.) Paul’s distinction when he said that “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Or Medea’s introspection that “Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.” Similarly, Budhha used a metaphor of an elephant and its rider: “In days gone by, this mind of mine used to stray wherever selfish desire or lust or pleasure would lead it. Today this mind does not stray and is under the harmony of control, even as a wild elephant is controlled by the trainer.” For those familiar with Freudian psychology, these systems map onto the ego and the id.

This division explains diverse phenomena, such as the phenomenology of self-control, optical illusions, why you can fall “in love” with someone that you “know” isn’t right for you, why you (or I, at least) have a difficult time with calculus but can instinctively compute the ballistic trajectory of a ball flying through the air in order to catch it, moral intuitions, and judgment and decision-making biases/heuristics in general.

Going back to the metaphor of an elephant and its rider...although many people tend to identify with and assign primacy to the rider (myself included…I do study self-control after all), I feel that the unconscious often gets the short shrift. The elephant actually “knows” and does more than the rider. I’m not sure who actually said it, but s/he was right that “the heart has reasons that reason knows not.” Or, as Jung said, “Emotion is the chief source of all becoming-conscious. There can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement without emotion.” Feelings are (or at least should be) "inputs" in decisions that involve logic. Logic provides the structure for making decisions, but feelings, intuition, etc. are the foundations of good reasoning. In Gulliver's Travels, Swift put the Houyhnhnms' use of reason/logic on a pedestal, but I don't believe it is possible to have "pure reason." In terms of a logical syllogism, we will always come down to a fundamental premise that cannot be rationalized. As an example, ask yourself why you did something (anything). You can rationalize, but eventually, the answer will be something like “because I felt like it,” “because I believe that it is the right thing to do,” or “because God/Buddha/Muhammad/Krisha/etc. said so.” Logic applied to anything that is worthwhile is useless without "irrational" feelings, values, and intuitions. Emotions/intuitions are the foundations or axioms of our logic...they are or at least should be allies, not antagonists (as they are often characterized). I, for one, tend to overthink things and am probably worse off because of it. One challenge for me is to figure out when to just trust my heart/gut/instincts. We are not just the rider (or the elephant). We are both.

*For more on these two systems, see the first chapters of The Happiness Hypothesis by John Haidt and Nudge by Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein.

Foreword (and forward)

Due mostly to this thing called graduate school, this is my first time blogging in about three years. I mostly didn’t blog because I didn’t have time, but also because the banal routine of my life would probably bore you to tears. It would go something like this: woke up, went to the office, worked on some research, went to class, went home, studied, went to sleep, wash, repeat. Then again, even if my life is boring, I can always share my thoughts and ideas, right? Well, I’ve also come to realize that practically nothing that I think of or say is novel. As Thoreau said, “These same questions that disturb and puzzle and confound us have in their turn occurred to all the wise men; not one has been omitted; and each has answered them, according to his ability, by his words and his life.” Furthermore, in addition to just not having a very interesting life and not having anything original to say, my writing style is not very (or even somewhat) riveting. Language, written or otherwise, has never come easy to me. If you saw my first essay when I started college, you probably would have told me that I should probably reconsider going to college. But I learned, and am still learning.

Right, so long story short (or somewhat/relatively short). Why blog? For one, to connect on a deeper level with those of you who care. That’s right, both of you. Joking (I hope) aside, I want to hear what people have to say. I pride myself in having a motley yet wise (in one sense or another) group of friends. I want to hear your perspective. Second, to grow as a person. My personal philosophy is eclectic, and as a result, somewhat incoherent. In his poem entitled, “Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes.” If I’ve learned anything from studying psychology, it’s that humans are complex and multifaceted. We contradict ourselves. We are full of inconsistencies. Although it may be an (asymptotically) unattainable goal, I seek a coherent philosophy. I want to know the flaws and inconsistencies in my beliefs (or at least just things/perspectives that I’ve never thought of before). Think of it as a form of peer review. I want to hear your thoughts, “perception checks,” comments, questions, and criticism.

Some of my posts will inevitably sound like bragging, a call for sympathy, or just inane rambling. On my old blog, I had a saying (which I think is original, but it very well may not be): “If I make a happy post, my critics will say that I’m bragging. If I make a sad post, the critics will say that I want sympathy. If I do neither of the above, then the critics will say I am dull. My advice is to not care too much about what others think. If you try to please everyone, you will end up pleasing nobody.” This is life, my life in particular. It is laudable at times, pitiable at others, and just plain mundane most of the time.

Although a part of me wants to say that I don’t care about what others think, I care very deeply about what some people think, particularly, the people who are most likely to read this. That said, I agree to an extent with Dr. Seuss when he said, “Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” I don’t completely agree because I expect (and hope) that the people who matter will occasionally take issue with what I say. We are diverse, have our idiosyncratic values and beliefs, and inevitably will have difference of opinions. Naturalistic fallacy aside, that’s the way it is, and it’s good.

We live in an information age where knowledge is abundant but true wisdom is rare. In Jorge Luis Borges’ The Library of Babel, the titular (Lisa’s giggling right now and she doesn’t know why) library contains tomes with every possible combination of letters, thus ensuring that the profound truths of the universe are included (as well as the complete works of Bill Shakespeare). On the other hand, this also means that most of the books are gibberish and that finding the wisdom is a near-impossible feat. Moral? Although everything may have been said before, that doesn’t mean that it’s all interesting, relevant, or true. That said, I am confident that, together (i.e., your brilliant intellect and my propensity to ask, “but why?”), we can separate at least some of the wisdom from the chaff.

Like my philosophy, this blog will be dynamic and will be updated and revised as I learn new things from you (as well as other sources). People have a tendency to not comment on old blogs, but I encourage you to, regardless of whether (1) you have only recently had an epiphany and want to share, (2) you have just stumbled upon this blog and are just now going through the archive, or (3) not otherwise specified (NOS). If you do not wish to make your comments public, please send me a private message. Finally, if you have a blog, please send me the link.