Learned Optimism

Martin E. Seligman is one of the fathers of the positive psychology movement. His twenty-year-old book, Learned Optimism: How to Change your Mind and your Life, builds on his research on learned helplessness and depression. Learned helplessness, as you probably know, is when individuals internalize that their actions have no effect on their environment and give up trying, even in post-learning situations where their actions would indeed be effectual. Learned Optimism explores how the way that we frame our self-talk around successes and failures determines either our optimism, leading to success, or our pessimism, leading to learned helplessness.

Seligman says there are three elements to one’s explanatory style around life’s highs and lows: permanence (how long causes are believed to last), pervasiveness (how context-specific the causes are believed to be), and personalization (how internal to the individual the causes are believed to be). Optimistic people explain positive experiences in terms of permanent, pervasive, and internal causes, and negative experiences in terms of transient, specific, external causes. In other words, good things happen because of the optimist’s enduring good traits which manifest themselves in most situations, while bad things happen due to very specific, temporary accidents. Pessimists explain events in the opposite way: bad things happen because of their enduring and pervasive bad personal qualities, while good things are specific, temporary, external flukes.

The asymmetry here is interesting, and neither of those two explanatory-style stereotypes seems like something I want to aspire to. Perhaps that’s related to my scoring optimistically when explaining bad events and pessimistically when explaining good ones. In fact, I wonder whether pondering the impermanence of all things and the traps of the ego doesn’t predispose one toward explaining all events this way, as due to accidental, temporary, external causes….

Seligman notes that while optimism is generally the preferable mindset in terms of getting individuals to dream big, act on their dreams, and get over failures, pessimists have a more accurate grasp of reality, and may thus have the more useful mindset for mission-critical applications like surgery, flying airplanes, and accounting. He notes, however, that we can choose to be flexible in employing optimism when it would be useful. His technique for doing this is based on the ABCDE acronym for reframing failures optimistically (interestingly, he does not reframe successes optimistically):

  • Adversity: Some external bad event happens.
  • Beliefs: Our explanatory style leads us to believe in certain causes for the adversity.
  • Consequences: Those causes have consequences: how we respond to the adversity.
  • Disputation: However, we can challenge our pessimistic beliefs using techniques such as seeing whether the evidence lines up, whether there are alternative explanations, what the implications of our beliefs are, and whether our beliefs are useful in any way.
  • Energization (!): As a result, we can feel more in control of our response to the situation.

In essence, the book is largely just a motivational build-up to this technique, whose key step, “disputation,” is nothing other than reframing our internal explanations in a fairer and more useful way.

The Mindfulness Solution

Awakening In the Star Trek universe, Vulcans routinely practice The Disciplines, mental exercises that allow them to live their lives according to cthia, the philosophy of seeing the world dispassionately as it really is. Not surprisingly, there’s a real-life analogue of this fictional concept: mindfulness meditation.

Mindfulness is getting more and more mainstream attention in the West these days, and with good reason. In a world where our default mode of operation is racing from one thing to another, where we strive to keep up with our social media lest we be (and be perceived to be) out of the loop, stopping to actually savor where we are is simple yet surprisingly hard recipe for appreciating our life while we’re living it. In the process, by learning to put our egos on hold, we can approach problems more objectively and empathize more easily with our fellow beings.

I’ve been interested in mindfulness for a while now, though it’s only recently that I’ve been “sitting” formally on a regular basis. Part of what made it hard was figuring out exactly what the nuts and bolts of the practice entail, without the mystical trappings that are extraneous and distracting in my secular, rationalist world view. Most of the books I’ve consulted include these metaphysical elements to some degree or another. Two that don’t (and which I’ve mentioned before) are Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go There You Are and Henepola Gunaratana’s Mindfulness in Plain English. Nonetheless, the first one I found a bit too vague for what I needed, and the second spent a bit too much time for my taste on Buddhist philosophy and terminology.

I now have a new favorite meditation manual, Ronald D. Siegel’s The Mindfulness Solution: Everyday Practices for Everyday Problems. The first two chapters motivate and introduce mindfulness straightforwardly, noting its historical roots but not unduly burdening the reader with extraneous information. The real value of the book, however, lies in the third and fourth chapters, which contain directions on how to do various concentration and mindfulness meditations. These are the clearest instructions I’ve found yet, presented in a very approachable way. I particularly like the metaphor of the restless mind that will not focus for any length of time as an untrained puppy that you just expect you’ll have to repeatedly and lovingly tug back.

The following two-hundred-plus pages go into details of how particular meditations on certain topics and sensations can be used for rather specific life issues, such as fear, depression, pain, and relationships. These were interesting enough to read through and are a useful reference, complete with worksheets to identify problem areas and write down meditation intentions. They boil down to a common theme: using mindfulness and awareness of the present to ride and observe our unpleasant sensations, noting how they ebb and flow by themselves and in response to external circumstances.

For those serious about exploring meditation, this is the one book I would recommend to get started. I also recommend using a meditation timer to remove the concern of spending more or less time than intended; there are many phone apps that can fill this role, like the one I currently use.

“Tea!”

Imagine that you’re sitting at home, having a leisurely cup of tea with your friends and catching up on local gossip. All of a sudden, two foreigners politely barge into your living room, sit down, and awkwardly demand some tea using a series of weird-sounding words and funny gestures. After you’ve served them some tea, and thrown in some biscuits for good measure, they seem to want to pay you. You refuse payment, and they politely leave bowing and thanking you profusely.

This isn’t exactly what happened to us, but it felt that way when we stopped at one of the many tea houses that dot Inari, a mountain dedicated to the eponymous Shinto deity of fertility and rice. The mountain is laced with paths marked by distinctive, bright orange torii, donated by the faithful. We quickly wandered off the main path and into some of the smaller alcoves and hidden shrines, and it is there, in the sleepy tea-stop that was just getting started for the day, that we had the first of several cups of tea that day on the mountain.

The numerous shrines and temples are not limited to the tourist sites like this particular mountain; they actually pervade Kyoto. It is not uncommon to see personal shrines in front of some houses, bigger shrines or temples occupying full house lots, or even historic shrines, plaques and all, wedged between glitzy modern department stores in a very lit and lively downtown shopping area. These places are not just for show: shoppers, tourists, and pilgrims will stop, set down their bags, and pay their respects to the deities by clapping, bowing, ringing a bell, and praying.

It is quite fascinating to watch the devotion of the faithful, to regard the opulence and beauty of these religiously inspired structures and statues, and to consider the time and resources that are used by religious observances. Not that the West can’t hold its own here, mind you, but this is a good reminder of how universal the religious drive is.

Israeli workout

Though we’re staying at a fancy hotel here in Tel Aviv, the gym is extra. And really, what’s the point when there are free outdoor gyms on the boardwalk? I’d call them “adult playgrounds,” because that’s what they look like, but you’d get entirely the wrong idea.

These adult playgrounds, actually gyms, dot the beach in Tel Aviv

Every morning I run on the boardwalk by the Mediterranean. On my “weight-lifting” days I join the random strangers (young and elderly, athletic and not) at one of these gym areas and do pull-ups, push-ups, dips, and that exemplar of classic beach calisthenics, body-weight squats. It’s a perfect way to burn off the sumptuous Israeli breakfast, and there’s enough inspiration around to keep one motivated…

Surfin' Is-ra-el

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Kingsolver's Vegetannual

I wasn’t interested in gardening when I was growing up. It felt like an obligation when I would much rather be living in my head, playing with thoughts and ideas, reading, programming.

As an adult, though, I am more and more fascinated by it. On a personal level, it’s a good break from being inside my head all day. It is also a chance to be mindful by focusing on a simple activity, and to be attuned to the wonder that is the complex system we call life. Philosophically, it makes sense to break the pernicious cycle of store-bought food from all over the world, always available, intensively farmed: the production cycle of these foods often damages local ecosystems, increases global pollution, decreases bio-diversity, and exploits workers.

Of late, there has been renewed interest in eating well and sustainably. Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life is yet another offering to this particular audience. In this book, Kingsolver uses the chronicle of her family’s resolution to eat mostly home-raised and local foods for an entire year as a springboard for discussing food sustainability in general.

While this experiment was made easier by the family moving to a farm where they could devote significant time to agriculture, Kingsolver inspires both the back-yard gardener in me to try heirloom varieties to keep them in circulation, and the urban dweller in me to be more conscious about local and free range products in the supermarket.

The book has a companion website with recipes and local food resources. I found it enjoyable and inspiring, and recommend it to anyone thinking about eating and living more responsibly.