Deep Thought

I continue to seek answers to questions that are mostly unanswerable in my current context ... yet my wanderings on the web—sometimes directed by others, mostly haphazard jumpings of my own—occasionally offer droplets of insight.

I recently had something said to me that I have not been able to get out of my mind. Thus, I turn to you twelve for your thoughts on the matter.

I know you’re a decent, industrious, cooperative animal, comparable to a bee or an ant. All I’ve done is to lay bare the little man in you, who has been wrecking your life for thousands of years. You are great, little man, when you’re not mean and small. Your greatness, little man, is the only hope we have left. You’re great when you attend lovingly to your trade, when you take pleasure in carving and building and painting, in sowing and reaping, in the blue sky and the deer and the morning dew, in music and dancing, in your growing children, and in the beautiful body of your wife or husband; when you go to the planetarium to study the stars, to the library to read what other men and women have thought about life. You’re great when your grandchild sits on your lap and you tell him of times long past and look into the uncertain future with his sweet, childlike curiosity. You’re great, mother, when you lull your baby to sleep; when with tears in your eyes you pray fervently for his future happiness; and when hour after hour, year after year, you build this happiness in your child.

You’re great, little man, when you sing the good, warmhearted folk songs, or when you dance the old dances to the tune of an accordion, because folk songs are good for the soul, and they’re the same the world over. And you’re great when you say to your friend:
“I thank my fate that I’ve been able to live my life free from filth and greed, to see my children grow and to look on as they first began to babble, to take hold of things, to walk, to play, to ask questions, to laugh and to love; that I’ve been able to preserve, in all its freedom and purity, my feeling for the springtime and its gentle breezes, for the gurgling of the brook that flows past my house and the singing of the birds in the woods; that I’ve taken no part in the gossip of malicious neighbors; that I’ve been happy in the embrace of my wife or husband and have felt the stream of life in my body; that I haven’t lost my bearings in troubled times, and that my life has had meaning and continuity. For I have always hearkened to the gentle voice within me that said, ‘Only one thing matters: live a good, happy life. Do your heart’s bidding, even when it leads you on paths that timid souls would avoid. Even when life is a torment, don’t let it harden you.’”

Jomama highlighted a different section of what appears to be an astonishing book. Race you for a copy!

Many individuals have asked me to share more about my walkabout—a two-week sabbatical from the world over the 2003 holiday season. As I’ve already written about some of the results of the trip, I suspect what they’re wanting is a different perspective, or perhaps some more personal insights. As that experience was a very personal, powerful one, I do not care to reveal more details to the world at large. However, upon gaining some perspective post-walkabout, I find that I would like to share a bit more about an unexpected but highly valuable insight from it.

I had wanted the walkabout for two reasons: as a vacation from my work and family responsibilities, which although enjoyable had begun to weigh heavily upon me; and to have sufficient time and peace for some long-overdue introspection. It wasn’t until I returned home that I realized I had given myself another, possibly even more-needed break.

That break was from the incessant cultural chatter that is virtually impossible to escape. I don’t watch television (except for rare times when I join my children while they're watching something) and don’t listen to radio. However, I do a huge amount of web browsing, and much of that requires trolling the mainstream news sources for material for Freedom News Daily. I hadn’t realized, until I returned to it, how corrosive a thing that is to me.

I began to notice more cultural corrosives after that discovery. Even a relatively benign thing like shopping exposes one to many social or cultural stereotypes and expectations, many of which are misguided or downright unhealthy. If one is at all observant of one’s fellow humans in one’s midst, that too can set off any of a number of negative responses.

So much of the world is inimical to individual liberty. So many of us who have devoted our lives to expanding freedom are little understood, and often valued even less. Sometimes that’s true even among those who would be our allies but for hubris, dogmatism, or any other self-defeating silliness. Add to that the unceasing stream of bad news from the world at large—goodbye privacy; more war, more bloodshed, and less human decency on almost every continent; more coin flushed down the bureaucrat and regulatory commodes—and it’s amazing we who cherish freedom aren’t burning out faster than we are.

But we are burning out. I’ve teetered on the precipice again, just a few short months after my soul-cleansing walkabout. I’ve seen many others making comments that suggest they, too, are walking the razor’s edge. What can be done?

Drop out.

I don’t mean drop out in the Thoreau-esque style of living a hermit’s life—at least, not at the beginning. What I mean is to drop out and take a break from life’s pressures and challenges, in order to refocus on yourself. Many freedom activists get so caught up in the perpetual cause that they seem unable to disengage until they do flame out. That’s sad. It’s also unnecessary.

While the effort to advance liberty is a noble and highly worthy cause, it is also a never-ending effort. Too many of us seem to forget or ignore that hard reality, often at our own peril. How free are we if we enslave ourselves to the ideals of liberty? If we take on too much and therefore render ourselves less effective, we end up working against ourselves and our allies, no matter what our good intentions might be. As long as one is committed to working for that cause, one must keep in mind the necessary balance between the cause and one’s own personal liberty—and one’s well-being.

Drop out of the culture and drop out of civilization as much as possible. Drop out of activism too. Then, tune in to your own rhythms, your own needs and desires, hopes and fears. Chances are you’ll discover, much as I did, that the path you’ve been treading is not a healthy one for you—not one you intended when you set out. Only after you recognize that will it be possible for you to set it right, and re-plot your course. That will in turn help you regain your sense of purpose, and very likely your ability to enjoy your own freedom.

We all need balance and focus in our lives. Sometimes those things seem to come only after a hard lesson, such as a burnout. But there’s a difference between the burnout that incinerates the soul and the cleansing fire that instructs, “Hey, wake up! What you’re doing isn’t healthy for your head!”

For me, I can only take so much fire, whether good or bad; I found that I needed to escape, in order to see a way clear of the smoke billowing in my mind. An escape may work similar wonders for you. You may require months of solitude to regain the precious insight to your soul—or it may take you just an afternoon in a hammock. Whatever works for you—as long as it does work—is what’s important. You may discover that you want to rearrange your life and priorities; you may discover that you’ve been on the right course all along, but moving at a pace that doesn’t suit you. You’ll almost certainly discover that you have more choices than you think you do—and you’ll likely find that by consciously thinking about those choices, then making informed decisions, your enjoyment of life will return.

I don’t claim any great insights into the meaning of life, but I do think that a fundamental element driving human action is the desire to be effective. To be an effective individual, one must first know oneself. Only then can an individual choose a path that will allow him to be genuine. And only when a person is able to be so honest with himself will he be able to create authentic, fulfilling consensual relationships with others.

The world is amazingly interconnected via the internet, and becoming more so each day. The possibilities for happiness—as well as for misery and pain—are legion. As tempting as it may be to get, and remain, plugged in to all that connectivity, it is vitally important to first connect with yourself.

So, do it.

Drop out.

Then tune in to the best friend you can ever have—yourself.

I’ve been thinking a lot about power lately—who has it, who’s perceived to have it, how individuals get it and lose it—and it seems to me that our society in general is missing a few crucially important ideas with respect to the concept. Even worse, many libertarians may be among the most blind to these nuances. I present as evidence some quotations commonly found on freedom-oriented web sites:

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Those who have been once intoxicated with power . . . can never willingly abandon it.
All men having power ought to be mistrusted.

With quotations like that to light the way, it’s no surprise that many individuals who hold freedom-affirming principles have an almost automatic aversion to power. In one sense, this is appropriate. But in a broader context, it creates a means of enabling greater problems for (and among) ourselves, as well as difficulties in accurately communicating the value of liberty to others.

My Webster’s dictionary has several definitions of power; the first one is, simply, “ability to do, act, or produce”. The fourth definition is where things start to get dicey; it is “the ability to control others; authority; sway; influence”. I doubt that any reasonable individual would have problems with the first definition; it's that “ability to control others” that creates problems, and thus earns libertarian disdain. But that’s a fairly narrow definition of power—one that could properly be labeled political power (keeping in mind that politics is a much broader concept than the electoral and legislative processes that most often come to mind).

The first—and most important—definition is really defining personal power. While there’s a lot of overlap between personal and political power, especially under the boots of a state that attempts to act as individuals’ parents, personal power is much too important to leave as an afterthought. That’s precisely what I think many libertarian thinkers have done. Each fairly mature individual has a wealth of personal power at his command, both in handling himself and his interactions with others. (Personal power also influences political power, of course, but that’s a topic I’ll save for later.)

Power over yourself

Each person has personal power to exert over him– or herself. While that’s obvious, I think many people fail to see the depths of power inherent in that truth. Beyond choosing the clothes one wears, the food one eats, and other fairly mundane things, this sort of power is about making important choices. Choices about how to be, as a person. Choices about how to think, what to feel and value, how to act. It’s also about the choice to accept or reject the consequences of those choices.

While it’s true that our genes instruct us about how to be, they are best thought of as a blueprint that provides for a range of actual outcomes. To varying degrees those outcomes can be shifted, if a person exercises the power to do so. If a person doesn’t like being introverted, he can change that to some degree. Or, a person can choose to try to be more considerate of others—or not allow himself to be taken advantage of; the list is very long.

Exercising this power to change yourself necessarily involves changing your actions and thoughts. Doing so can be difficult, but the field of self-help psychology is a testament to individuals’ desires to do so (and amongst the heaps of sand therein one can find diamonds; those I consider diamonds include Wayne Dyer, Nathaniel Branden, and Albert Ellis). Like it or not, a person chooses to be positive or negative; to be “all talk” or to take action; to do another line of coke; or stay in an unfulfilling relationship.

Habits are nothing more than choices made so often they’ve become entrenched—chosen without thought. As such, they can be exceedingly difficult to change, but they can be changed. Even though drug use can have a strong physical pull (a good example being weekend caffeine withdrawal headaches), “addiction” is often nothing more than placing responsibility for one’s over-indulgence (meaning use that impedes one’s ability to function) on the drug, rather than oneself. Similarly, much of what we think of as someone’s personality is a complex interplay of patterns of choices; it’s therefore more malleable than many individuals like to think.

To the degree an individual sees himself as a victim—of another person, of “the system”, of forces outside his control—he has ceded some degree of his personal power and placed it in the hands of others, whether they’re real entities or imaginary constructs. In a recent essay on psychological marginalization I touched on some of the unhealthy aspects of victimhood. Even worse is placing one’s personal power in others’ hands—especially when those hands are those of an enemy, as the state’s agents so very often are.

Victimhood is just one way that personal power influences one’s interaction with others. Relationships necessarily involve a balance of power among the individuals comprising them. A refusal or inability to see that one has personal power over another can lead to misunderstandings, or worse. And that’s where personal power can get very sticky.

Power in relationships

Meaningful relationships with others are built on complex, sometimes delicate balances of power between individuals. Even casual friendships display this; when one values another’s thoughts and company, choices are made that take them into account. One may choose to see a movie one isn’t very interested in, because a friend’s company is more important than the film choice. Often when a balance of personal power in a friendship shifts toward one party, individuals may speak of a friend being manipulated, used, or taken advantage of.

The English language’s typical structure for expressing emotions very curiously places power over one’s emotions into another’s control. How many times have you heard, or even said, something like, “You make me _____” (happy, angry, sad—whatever)? It’s so entrenched in the way we think that many people—even individualists—have never thought about this, much less questioned it. While it will never be as catchy as singing, “You’ve made me so very happy”, it would be much more accurate to say, for example, “You enable a lot of joy in my life”. Abdicating responsibility for one’s emotions—giving that important personal power to others—not only allows victimhood, it drastically slims the likelihood of positive change taking place.

Parents obviously have power over their young children, but if they handle the responsibility to raise a child well, he or she will gradually take on more personal power, and wield it more effectively. That is a goal of parenting, although it seems to be rarely thought of in this way. (I have found myself wondering to what degree libertarians who eschew the use of force in their child-rearing methods mistake proper uses of their parental authority for coercion.) While it can be more subtle, it is nonetheless true that at the least from the moment of birth, a child has and exerts some degree of power over his parents. Loving parents therefore enter into what I’ve come to think of as a “dance of power” with their children. It’s a shifting style that may be equal parts flowing waltz and slam dance, but both are necessary for the emergence of a mature, responsible adult.

Even more complicated—if such a thing is possible—is the dance of personal power inherent in romantic relationships. By choosing to love another, one is voluntarily placing some personal power in the beloved’s hands. If the relationship is mutual and consists of psychologically healthy, mature adults, this is a reciprocal choice and is probably fairly well balanced. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that problems won’t arise. A simple misunderstanding, a careless remark, or more seriously, changes in goals or differences in needs or desires can create pain. It’s a paradoxical fact of love that being in love necessarily means experiencing pain at some point, because love requires the exchange of personal power. Adding a twist of irony to that paradox, it may be that one gets a true sense of the extent of his love for another in the depths of pain he feels at the possibility of losing that love.

To the degree that individuals don’t realize this and fail to treat that gift of personal power with the utmost respect and care it deserves—as well as uncritically accepting the “you make me” emotional power-shift English plays—our society will continue to produce individuals incapable of knowing genuine love, much less learning from failures. While I don’t have a comprehensive theory of “libertarian love” worked out, it seems to me that the blanket tendency to abhor power most clearly shows its negative repercussions here, as so many freedom-oriented individuals seem to have difficulty with the idea of giving up some control over one’s life—even though it’s voluntary, and is essential to love.

If freedom-loving individuals want to create a freer, healthier society, it is imperative that we rethink the reflexive tendency to dismiss power as inherently evil or corrupt. As Rush so aptly put it in their song Something for Nothing, “what you love is your own power”. Viewed in the context of personal power wielded in a responsible way, that love isn’t only healthy—it’s necessary.

Author's note: I would like to acknowledge the important contributions of a beloved friend who prefers to remain anonymous, whose challenging conversations with me on this and related subjects have greatly clarified my thinking.

I have always loved to travel. My parents often told me about my great enjoyment of a trip to the upper Midwest taken when I was just three years old—I don’t know whether I’ve reconstructed things from their recollections, or if they’re genuine, but I’ve a few wisps of remembrance of immense bridges and lots of water from the trip through Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan. By the time I was old enough to consider it, I was yearning to get out of small-town Ohio and see some of the world. It took decades to accomplish that, but I have, yet wanderlust still pounds in my blood.

As I got older, I became fascinated with not just the places, but the people, too. That’s a big part of why I became a psychologist, but even so, the academic interest has never exceeded the intensely personal interest I have in humans. By “intensely personal” I don’t mean busybody nosiness—I simply mean an interest in the unending variety and creativity of human creatures. As a teenager, I read Richard Bach’s Illusions, and much of it resonated with me. One of the more powerful elements was Don Shimoda’s attempt to teach “the reluctant Messiah” of the profound differences between individuals—I’d thought a lot about that years before reading the book, and grokked its importance then. This was the first time, as best I recall, that I confronted the reality that other individuals didn’t recognize that truth. I think that I had also begun to realize that freedom and tolerance are the essentials for creating a happy, healthy person and life, although it was (again) to be many years before I realized the full implications of my youthful philosophical ponderings. Having recently returned from a walkabout to the Arizona desert, doing a lot of thinking and observing (both within myself and of the areas I traveled to and through), I’ve been powerfully reminded of the glorious diversity of humankind.

From the cold, frozen Midwest, my companion and I traveled south and west. Breakfast was typically coffee and eggs of some sort, but as the temperature warmed as we neared our destination, so did the spiciness of the ingredients accompanying the eggs. Tabasco sauce was ever-present on the table, or brought with meals without needing to ask—a welcome sign that I was among people who like their food the way I do. Shapes became less pasty and pudgy—darker skin and darker, straighter hair became common. Physiques seemed to separate into “lean” and “fat”—few people appeared to exist in that corporate-cubicle in-between of couch-potatodom. The pace of life slowed. As the landscape became drier, the effort required to live in its embrace became a visible constraint—but not an insurmountable one. When we reached the small town that was our base of operations for the walkabout, I was met with another surprise. Or, more accurately, I saw it shimmering in the distance as we drove through the desert—a glimmering white sea that was not sand, not salt, but aluminum. Snowbirds fly to the area in their RVs, creating a senior-citizen city the likes of which I’d never imagined. The sound of a toddler’s laugh from a nearby table at Sunday breakfast was as foreign there as a moose call would be in downtown Los Angeles.

All that differentness, in a relatively small trip across one small area of this planet ...

The reality of Richard Bach’s message walloped me again. Each of us is different, unique. The commonality we all share may be no more than being Homo sapiens.

So how can anyone dare to presume to tell someone how to live her or his life? How could the nannies possibly conceive that their narrow little boxes can adequately hold all of humanity’s (and inhumanity’s) possibilities? How can I tell my children in good conscience that I know what’s best for them, that I know how they “ought to” live, when the times, society, and knowledge they’re growing up in are so different from when I grew up?

The nanny-ninnies can’t conceive of my horror at their prescriptions and proscriptions—but that doesn’t stop their efforts to push their ideas on others. I’m not convinced that their pleas of doing good are sincere, anyway; it’s a good cover and nothing more, as any perceptive individual can twig, even under the cover of the state-approved media outlets. Their ultimate answer, when they’re pushed to it, is that they’re protecting us from anarchy—a claim that stops many intelligent individuals, wrongly, in their tracks.

I’ve never shied away from the A-word. I transformed from confused statist to full-blown ancap in a span of days, and was much happier for it. While I’ve often pondered how to best offer my thoughts on the beneficence of anarchy to the freedom movement, it has never been an important enough issue to take up my digital pen and create the essay. Now, it would seem, I don’t need to. I came across a clear, beautiful essay that says it much better than I likely ever could. Butler Shaffer is the author, and it’s worth interrupting this ramble to read it now (or refresh yourself with it, if you’ve already seen the essay at LewRockwell.com. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

For those who didn’t bother to follow the link, here’s a paragraph that sums it up nicely, and is worth plastering on every freedom-lover’s site on the web:

“Anarchy” is an expression of social behavior that reflects the individualized nature of life. Only as living beings are free to pursue their particular interests in the unique circumstances in which they find themselves, can conditions for the well-being of all be attained. Anarchy presumes decentralized and cooperative systems that serve the mutual interests of the individuals comprising them, without the systems ever becoming their own reasons for being. It is this thinking, and the practices that result therefrom, that is alone responsible for whatever peace and order exists in society.

Terrific stuff, eh? We act in harmony with this wonderful system so much of our lives, yet even we anarchists, we intellectually-minded libertarians, often overlook or forget its simplicity, scope, and unalterable truth.

After discovering that article, I was feeling quite good. Imagine my surprise when the day got even better.

For those of you who’ve been regulars to my personal web site, friends of mine at the Liberty Round Table, or conversed with me at The Claire Files or LibertyForum [both no longer extant as such], you know that I had been having difficulty dealing with my self-imposed work and personal demands. One thing I was considering is what form, if any, my future activism should take. As I said in a temporary farewell message, I was as close to burnout as I’d ever been, and quite surprised by that. It seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how good I made Freedom News Daily, how much I wrote about the need for individuals to find their own way to “do freedom” in the way that works best for themselves, or helped promote others’ great work, it was never enough. Why couldn’t the cats, er, not herd themselves—I’m not that deluded, nor would I want that—but simply just go do it: do their own freedom without waiting for or worrying about others? Why do so many of us contrary, individualistic, stubborn libertarian types seem to be waiting for The Magic Bullet Solution to Winning Freedom Now and Forever?

My friend Richard Rieben offers some valuable insights to that, as I commented prior to my walkabout in the essay Individual and Group: A Perpetual Tug of War?. One of the most important points he makes is that any group runs counter to the interests of its individuals—simply by virtue of the nature of individuals and groups. One need look no further than the national Libertarian Party to see how trying to herd individuals to greater freedom has brought more failure than success to the freedom movement. Yet in many pro-freedom circles, especially think tanks, the focus is on “public policy”—essentially groups butting heads over how much freedom individuals ought to have, or need to have. So—back to that surprise at last—I was taken aback by the title of the essay I saw by FEE president Richard Ebeling: There is no Central Plan for Winning Liberty.

Indeed.

Ebeling clearly presents why such a thing could never work, and discusses how each individual can choose a course that is most effective for himself with respect to advancing liberty. Not surprising information or ideas, but terrific to see coming from a respected institute nonetheless. “No Magic Bullet Solution” and “Anarchy Works!” (as I think of these two essays) fell into my mind, which was refreshed from my time away and ready to tackle some challenges anew. But now I don’t need to tackle a couple. Oh, I’m sure I will in some form or other, but it’s nice to know—again—that my thoughts are not way out from others’ in the freedom movement. It may be irrational of me, but those two essays renewed my hopes quite strongly.

My walkabout was an intensely solitary time, despite the near-constant presence of my traveling companion. That person—one of the very best friends I’ve had (and could ever hope to have) in my life—was on a similar mission, and in part because of that we were able to be together without intruding into each other’s space. Our interactions were the epitome of a truly voluntary relationship; we worked out arrangements that suited each of us when necessary or desired by us, and left each other alone otherwise. Simple; easy; and gloriously effective. One of the unexpected joys of the journey were the vistas opened up to me by my friend’s eclectic musical tastes. I smile every time I think of a pirate plundering the grain co-ops “on Regina’s mighty shores”, or reflect on an unusually insightful lyric about relationships wound around a catchy rock melody. I’ve long been encouraging individuals to do freedom. To that I add, with the reverberation of Captain Tractor’s exuberant refrain prancing in my mind: free yourself!

Do it your way.

Do freedom. Free yourself.

A while back, Pint of Stout invited individuals to consider a question, and to share an answer to it. As his question was a neat bull’s-eye for me—something I have thought long and hard, and variously about for decades—I hereby accept his invitation and offer my ramblings to accompany his.

I am quite undecided about this turn of events in the housing market. Banks’ mail jingles as borrowers walk is the headline on a commentary by James Saft. For anyone who hasn’t come across the phrase “jingle mail” yet, it describes the phenomenon of homeowners walking away from a home because the debt owed is greater than its current value—and so, they mail the keys to the lender. The unmistakable signal jingle mail sends is, “I’m done here. The house is yours.”—thus breaking the mortgage contract. Is that wrong? I’ve seen a fair bit of commentary arguing both ways; but none of it has been from a pro-freedom perspective.

The Epicurean concept of ataraxia means freedom from mental disturbances. Epicurus taught that such freedom is a necessary component in the lifetime pursuit of rational pleasure which leads ultimately to eudaimonia (the flourishing of one's life).

Epicurus is truly the philosopher of freedom--of the sort that most of us modern lovers of liberty seek--and the fact that he accurately laid out all of the essentials millennia ago is truly remarkable. And what are these essentials?

Sometimes a seemingly simple question - or a misunderstanding - can create great rifts between people and challenge deeply held ideas... I may have lost a very long time friend - and he's an incredible champion of freedom - over this. I really don't understand why and he, strangely, is not at all clear why he disagrees with me. I would really appreciate any feedback.

I recently stumbled across a quotation I’d written on a slip of paper some time ago. I didn’t record any reference along with it, so I don’t know where I encountered this statement by Ferdinand Protzman on love. Since reading it, it’s occupied a fair amount of space in my mind ... but I can’t really compose a well-crafted summation of my responses to it.

Anyone who cares to share their responses is welcome to do so in the comments. I’ll join in, as I can: much of my day will be spent in the kitchen, making truffles and caramels. Here’s the quote:

Love can alter people’s lives in positive ways .... It can also break their hearts, crush their spirits, and kill them.

One thing that occurred to me is that we never know where our loving someone might go; even when love starts out as a positive thing, it can lead to enormous pain.

A topic that comes up often in the counseling I do is forgiveness. That was a serious part of my hospice work as well, and I've learned much about it over the years - both in my work and in my personal life.

We all have a complex mixture of experiences, old hurts and misunderstandings, resentments and fears. Most of us have at least some serious trauma - physical and/or emotional - from our past, and most fear such trauma from future events as well.

I read this statement a while ago, and immediately agreed with it. But as I thought about it, I started to wonder if it necessarily has to be so. So far, I am inclined to think it is. Here’s the statement, written by John Taylor Gatto:

We long for homes we can never have as long as we have institutions like school, television, corporation, and government in loco parentis.

What do you think? Am I overthinking things again?

We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.

From Anaïs Nin.

Our sucky satlink is barely capable of handling one browser tab, so please forgive me for not being able to verify some of the statements I’m about to make.