Monday, July 18, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Feelings
Since I wrote least time about joy and happiness, I've been wanting to explore the topic of feelings a little more. It's a weird thing I've noticed in our culture that we seem to harbor our feelings like prized possessions, which no one can touch or devalue, and at the same time we theoretically hold feelings in general in contempt. We love reason and sound thinking, but if anyone tries to tell us that they way we feel is silly or unnecessary, then (with the exception that we then feel shame for our feelings) lash out as if they had attacked the ground we walk on. It's just plain weird.
First of all: the importance of feelings. There is a misconception left over from the Enlightenment era that feelings are inferior to reason, to ideas and thoughts. People fear being led astray by their feelings, yet they trust their thoughts. To me this is putting the cart before the horse. Everything you feel is a result of something you are thinking, whether consciously or subconsciously. If you get mad when someone cuts you off on the highway, it is because you instantly think something awful about that person or about what he did. You're thinking that he shouldn't have done that and that you wish people would treat you with more respect and that they would learn to drive. All your anger explodes out from those simple thoughts. If you repeat these thought reactions, then the feelings occur quicker and more easily. The thought patterns in your brain solidify so that it becomes your natural reaction. Within nanoseconds, a signal goes through your brain telling your emotional centers to fire some anger.
We tend to blame our feelings as if we were doing something without thinking. Technically, we were feeling something, without controlling our thoughts, but thoughts were still streaming around. So to say that our feelings are unreliable is really only to say that our thoughts were unreliable first. The old formula went that we felt a certain way and then our sound reasoning could come in and make better sense of it, and our emotions needed to be controlled so that our thoughts could have freedom to do the wonderful work that they do. In reality our thoughts need to be controlled so that our feelings can do the wonderful work that they do, namely making life enjoyable and fulfilling for our selves and for the rest of the people on the road with us.
Now, this leads directly into the problem that people have with letting go of their feelings. Whenever we feel a certain way, we always feel like we have the right to feel that way. If we are angry about something, it might be stupid and it might be small, but it's the way we feel, and so we don't feel as if anyone can say anything to degrade it. We all act this way, male and female (no matter what John Gray says). If we feel angry, we know that we are supposed to feel angry, no matter if anyone tells us to calm down and relax. When I get upset about getting cut off on the road, I can list several reasons in a span of several seconds, why I not only have the right but the obligation to feel upset.
Under the old paradigm, we might have said that our feelings were getting in the way of letting reason do its job. We might have said that if only we could suppress our feelings, we could just go about our business without the tedium of getting angry, because we'd be fine with life under the cold calculating strictures of reason. The problem is that our reasoning is not cold and calculating. For every thought there is a feeling, and if there is an angry feeling, it is coming from an angry thought. To harbor our feelings as if they are unassailable, uncontrollable animals, is silly. We are all thinking beings, and if we let our feelings control us, it is because we are not willing to pay attention to why we have those feelings in the first place. Feelings are not something to be suppressed and they are not something to be harbored. They are to be formed and shaped by forming proper thoughts. If I have three reasons why I should be angry at the car that cut me off, then what I really need to do is take a second look at those reasons and figure out if those are valid reasons, and if there aren't other reasons that would invalidate them or at least balance them out so that I don't have to feel angry. None of us like to be told to calm down and relax. It seems like an attack on our feelings and an invalidation of something we tend to think is beyond our control. But it isn't.
We need to start treating feelings as being interwoven with our thoughts. Taking control of our feelings starts with taking control of our thoughts. And that starts with paying attention. Is your life going to be over because the car in front of you makes you 3 minutes late to work? Do you really know the guy who cut you off doesn't have a good reason? Is the sun going to stop shining because the car in the next lane didn't see you? Are you really supposed to be the center of everyone else' universe? Put things into perspective. If it helps, put into a cosmic perspective. This is why the bible calls our troubles "light and momentary" - and this referred to heavy persecution. Put into perspective, it's almost never as bad as it seems, and if your feelings are telling you differently, it's because there's some faulty thinking floating around. Stop treating feelings like sacred cows. Let them go, and allow your thoughts to come under scrutiny.
First of all: the importance of feelings. There is a misconception left over from the Enlightenment era that feelings are inferior to reason, to ideas and thoughts. People fear being led astray by their feelings, yet they trust their thoughts. To me this is putting the cart before the horse. Everything you feel is a result of something you are thinking, whether consciously or subconsciously. If you get mad when someone cuts you off on the highway, it is because you instantly think something awful about that person or about what he did. You're thinking that he shouldn't have done that and that you wish people would treat you with more respect and that they would learn to drive. All your anger explodes out from those simple thoughts. If you repeat these thought reactions, then the feelings occur quicker and more easily. The thought patterns in your brain solidify so that it becomes your natural reaction. Within nanoseconds, a signal goes through your brain telling your emotional centers to fire some anger.
We tend to blame our feelings as if we were doing something without thinking. Technically, we were feeling something, without controlling our thoughts, but thoughts were still streaming around. So to say that our feelings are unreliable is really only to say that our thoughts were unreliable first. The old formula went that we felt a certain way and then our sound reasoning could come in and make better sense of it, and our emotions needed to be controlled so that our thoughts could have freedom to do the wonderful work that they do. In reality our thoughts need to be controlled so that our feelings can do the wonderful work that they do, namely making life enjoyable and fulfilling for our selves and for the rest of the people on the road with us.
Now, this leads directly into the problem that people have with letting go of their feelings. Whenever we feel a certain way, we always feel like we have the right to feel that way. If we are angry about something, it might be stupid and it might be small, but it's the way we feel, and so we don't feel as if anyone can say anything to degrade it. We all act this way, male and female (no matter what John Gray says). If we feel angry, we know that we are supposed to feel angry, no matter if anyone tells us to calm down and relax. When I get upset about getting cut off on the road, I can list several reasons in a span of several seconds, why I not only have the right but the obligation to feel upset.
Under the old paradigm, we might have said that our feelings were getting in the way of letting reason do its job. We might have said that if only we could suppress our feelings, we could just go about our business without the tedium of getting angry, because we'd be fine with life under the cold calculating strictures of reason. The problem is that our reasoning is not cold and calculating. For every thought there is a feeling, and if there is an angry feeling, it is coming from an angry thought. To harbor our feelings as if they are unassailable, uncontrollable animals, is silly. We are all thinking beings, and if we let our feelings control us, it is because we are not willing to pay attention to why we have those feelings in the first place. Feelings are not something to be suppressed and they are not something to be harbored. They are to be formed and shaped by forming proper thoughts. If I have three reasons why I should be angry at the car that cut me off, then what I really need to do is take a second look at those reasons and figure out if those are valid reasons, and if there aren't other reasons that would invalidate them or at least balance them out so that I don't have to feel angry. None of us like to be told to calm down and relax. It seems like an attack on our feelings and an invalidation of something we tend to think is beyond our control. But it isn't.
We need to start treating feelings as being interwoven with our thoughts. Taking control of our feelings starts with taking control of our thoughts. And that starts with paying attention. Is your life going to be over because the car in front of you makes you 3 minutes late to work? Do you really know the guy who cut you off doesn't have a good reason? Is the sun going to stop shining because the car in the next lane didn't see you? Are you really supposed to be the center of everyone else' universe? Put things into perspective. If it helps, put into a cosmic perspective. This is why the bible calls our troubles "light and momentary" - and this referred to heavy persecution. Put into perspective, it's almost never as bad as it seems, and if your feelings are telling you differently, it's because there's some faulty thinking floating around. Stop treating feelings like sacred cows. Let them go, and allow your thoughts to come under scrutiny.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Joy and Happiness
This morning in Church we had a sermon on the difference between "joy" and "happiness." Let me start out by saying that I believe in the basic message that was preached today, which is that we don't want to settle for a momentary happiness that is dependent on our circumstances, but we want a lasting and enduring joy that flows up from within and remains throughout all circumstances we may face in life.
That being said, I have to say that for some time now I have found this distinction between "joy" and "happiness" (very common in many churches) is at best unnecessary and sometimes rather deconstructive to our thinking, and I wanted to lay out some thoughts about it which have troubled me.
First of all, I would argue, many non-religious people in the US might use the term happiness to describe something like what Christians mean by "joy." When people say that they "just want to be happy," I think most of them are talking about a deep satisfaction, inner peace, fulfillment and overall good feeling, which lasts throughout all of life's circumstances." Christians, as far as I can understand, call this "joy", and often differentiate it from "happiness." Non-religious types might call it "true happiness" or possibly "lasting happiness." There may be some who mean by "I just want to be happy" that they only want to fulfill their momentary desires and feel a continual rush of positive emotion based on some exciting experience or other, but I do not think this is what most people mean. I think almost everyone is looking for something lasting, enduring. Thus, when we try to make a distinction, it is worthy of note that the rest of the world is shaking their heads, wondering what we're talking about.
Secondly, the distinction between happiness and joy can lead to some critical judgments against people who are actually looking for the same thing we are. Some Christians can look with scorn on those who are looking for "happiness" as if they're willing to settle for something less wonderful and desirable. Now if they accepted the same distinction, then that would be true, but since they don't, they sometimes end up getting criticized for a semantic issue, which does no good to anyone. Now many may not openly or even consciously think that way, but feelings of superiority tend to set in regardless over a willingness to forsake personal happiness and live in squalor, poverty, and abjection, all along claiming a deep and lasting joy that is so different from what the world thinks of as happiness. Now this is really just an extension of what is a normal pitfall in the faith (pride in one's own faith), but I do think the belief in the distinction heightens its danger.
Now let us return to the actual semantic discussion. Happiness, I think people pretty much understand. We get this feeling of satisfaction. We smile. We laugh. We're excited. Maybe we're crying because it is an experience of emotion that can override our inhibitions if it is strong enough. In the church, people tend to connect this idea with circumstantial happiness. It tends to happen momentarily and only in response to certain circumstances. When alternate, less desirable circumstances come along, the feeling disappears and another replaces it. And so we have pastors preaching from the pulpit about the nature of "happiness" being momentary, fleeting, and completely dependent on circumstances.
Then we get to "joy," a quality that quickly becomes vague, nebulous, and indefinite. From the pulpit, pastors teach that it is something deeper and not dependent on circumstances, and that no matter what is happening around you, it can be accessed and remain, despite difficulty and hardship. I laud the teaching that we should begin to attain this kind of quality, but in making it different and distinct, separate from the feeling of happiness, I find myself confused as to its actual definition and often wonder how people know if they really have it or not.
When I ask people these questions, I don't seem to get straight answers. Is joy a feeling? Well, lots of Christians seem to think no (for the aforementioned reasons about the fleeting nature of feelings like happiness). And yet, when I insist that in order to experience joy, if must at some point be felt, most Christians seem to agree. If it can be felt, then is the feeling really a different feeling from happiness, or is it truly the same feeling, only deeper or more profound. If it is not a feeling, then what is it? Is it an attitude? If so, why don't we just call it a good attitude? Is it a disposition? If so... what does that mean? I cannot seem to get a straight or definitive answer about what it actually is. And if it is a feeling or even if it is something else but you can still somehow feel it, then is it a different sort of feeling than mere happiness, and how so? If it is a lasting, enduring feeling, then can you stop feeling it? If it is something else, that goes on even while we're feeling grumpy, pissed off, anxious, or bitter, then what good is it? Is it just a belief about life that has no impact on how we feel? If it doesn't have an impact on how we feel in the moment, then is it really a belief and is it really doing any good. To me, it all seems rather nebulous. And I think this is why non-religious people wonder what the heck we're talking about when we mention joy as if it is something other than happiness, because we can't seem to tell them what it is or what it feels like.
So then, what's the point of making this distinction. I believe the point is one that can easily be made without making the distinction between the two words. Namely, that instead of looking for lasting happiness in short-term circumstances, we should root ourselves and our minds in Christ and find enduring, lasting happiness, born of an attitude of trust and hope and love and shining through every experience of hardship, loss, or pain. It means we turn our difficulties into challenges, our sorrows into smiles, and our losses into opportunities, and all of this involves what I think is the feeling that the rest of the world identifies as "happiness," only deeper, more meaningful and long lasting.
That being said, I have to say that for some time now I have found this distinction between "joy" and "happiness" (very common in many churches) is at best unnecessary and sometimes rather deconstructive to our thinking, and I wanted to lay out some thoughts about it which have troubled me.
First of all, I would argue, many non-religious people in the US might use the term happiness to describe something like what Christians mean by "joy." When people say that they "just want to be happy," I think most of them are talking about a deep satisfaction, inner peace, fulfillment and overall good feeling, which lasts throughout all of life's circumstances." Christians, as far as I can understand, call this "joy", and often differentiate it from "happiness." Non-religious types might call it "true happiness" or possibly "lasting happiness." There may be some who mean by "I just want to be happy" that they only want to fulfill their momentary desires and feel a continual rush of positive emotion based on some exciting experience or other, but I do not think this is what most people mean. I think almost everyone is looking for something lasting, enduring. Thus, when we try to make a distinction, it is worthy of note that the rest of the world is shaking their heads, wondering what we're talking about.
Secondly, the distinction between happiness and joy can lead to some critical judgments against people who are actually looking for the same thing we are. Some Christians can look with scorn on those who are looking for "happiness" as if they're willing to settle for something less wonderful and desirable. Now if they accepted the same distinction, then that would be true, but since they don't, they sometimes end up getting criticized for a semantic issue, which does no good to anyone. Now many may not openly or even consciously think that way, but feelings of superiority tend to set in regardless over a willingness to forsake personal happiness and live in squalor, poverty, and abjection, all along claiming a deep and lasting joy that is so different from what the world thinks of as happiness. Now this is really just an extension of what is a normal pitfall in the faith (pride in one's own faith), but I do think the belief in the distinction heightens its danger.
Now let us return to the actual semantic discussion. Happiness, I think people pretty much understand. We get this feeling of satisfaction. We smile. We laugh. We're excited. Maybe we're crying because it is an experience of emotion that can override our inhibitions if it is strong enough. In the church, people tend to connect this idea with circumstantial happiness. It tends to happen momentarily and only in response to certain circumstances. When alternate, less desirable circumstances come along, the feeling disappears and another replaces it. And so we have pastors preaching from the pulpit about the nature of "happiness" being momentary, fleeting, and completely dependent on circumstances.
Then we get to "joy," a quality that quickly becomes vague, nebulous, and indefinite. From the pulpit, pastors teach that it is something deeper and not dependent on circumstances, and that no matter what is happening around you, it can be accessed and remain, despite difficulty and hardship. I laud the teaching that we should begin to attain this kind of quality, but in making it different and distinct, separate from the feeling of happiness, I find myself confused as to its actual definition and often wonder how people know if they really have it or not.
When I ask people these questions, I don't seem to get straight answers. Is joy a feeling? Well, lots of Christians seem to think no (for the aforementioned reasons about the fleeting nature of feelings like happiness). And yet, when I insist that in order to experience joy, if must at some point be felt, most Christians seem to agree. If it can be felt, then is the feeling really a different feeling from happiness, or is it truly the same feeling, only deeper or more profound. If it is not a feeling, then what is it? Is it an attitude? If so, why don't we just call it a good attitude? Is it a disposition? If so... what does that mean? I cannot seem to get a straight or definitive answer about what it actually is. And if it is a feeling or even if it is something else but you can still somehow feel it, then is it a different sort of feeling than mere happiness, and how so? If it is a lasting, enduring feeling, then can you stop feeling it? If it is something else, that goes on even while we're feeling grumpy, pissed off, anxious, or bitter, then what good is it? Is it just a belief about life that has no impact on how we feel? If it doesn't have an impact on how we feel in the moment, then is it really a belief and is it really doing any good. To me, it all seems rather nebulous. And I think this is why non-religious people wonder what the heck we're talking about when we mention joy as if it is something other than happiness, because we can't seem to tell them what it is or what it feels like.
So then, what's the point of making this distinction. I believe the point is one that can easily be made without making the distinction between the two words. Namely, that instead of looking for lasting happiness in short-term circumstances, we should root ourselves and our minds in Christ and find enduring, lasting happiness, born of an attitude of trust and hope and love and shining through every experience of hardship, loss, or pain. It means we turn our difficulties into challenges, our sorrows into smiles, and our losses into opportunities, and all of this involves what I think is the feeling that the rest of the world identifies as "happiness," only deeper, more meaningful and long lasting.
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