Fighting the Focusing Illusion

"Adaptation to a new situation, whether good or bad, consists in large part of thinking less and less about it.  In that sense, most long-term circumstances of life, including paraplegia and marriage, are part-time states that one inhabits only when one attends to them."--Daniel Kahneman, Thinking, Slow and Fast, page 405.

We can choose where to focus our attention.  I cannot choose what has happened to me.  I cannot, as they say, get a new past.  I am highly unskilled at predicting my future for more than a moment or two from now.  The uncertainties and variables of existence are too immense and complex.  I can, however, make intentional and deliberate decisions about where to focus my attention in the here and now.

Where I focus will determine how I feel.  Where I focus will determine where I walk.  Where I focus will determine what I do or don't do, think or don't think, believe or don't believe.  Kahneman puts it in simple terms as he describes the "Focusing Illusion."  His description should probably be reproduced in all those cute ways we use to remind ourselves of significant insights.

"Nothing in life is as important as you think it is 

when you are thinking about it." 

I know this is true.  I also know that we cannot focus on...nothing.  So one of the skills we need in fighting the Focusing Illusion is some competence in focusing on something or someone else.  We need to substitute a more positive object or experience in place of the negative one that clamors for our attention.

If I try NOT to think about something (say, purple and polka-dotted elephants), I know what image will immediately occupy my thoughts.  Try it.  Try NOT thinking about purple and polka-dotted elephants right now.  Be honest and admit that you cannot accomplish that.

Now in place of those fanciful creatures, think about pink zebras.  Substitution is a key to fighting Focusing Illusion.  This is why service is the antidote to selfishness.  We have an alternative to our inescapable self-absorption.  This is why exercise is such a good treatment for low-level depression.  We have an alternative to the darkness.  This is why a funny movie is such good treatment for the blues.  We have a whole story and set of images to displace the dark ruminations that plague us.

Christian Scripture is many things, but I am learning that it is a primer in behavioral psychology and economics.  For example, note these words from Philippians 4:

"Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you."

Think about whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, praiseworthy...that should be enough to leave little room for hatred, bitterness, recrimination, guilt, self-doubt, shame and fear.  Where we focus is where we live and love, where we walk and work.  In the words of AA wisdom, be where your hands are.  Choosing where to focus is a critical tool in the process of adaptation.  It is key to fighting the Focusing Illusion.

The Haven of Anonymity called The Church

The article is by Maia Szalavitz, "a neuroscience journalist for TIME.com."  The article is entitled "Sidewalk Rage: Mental Illness or 'Altrustistic Punishment'?"  You can find the article online at 

http://healthland.time.com/2011/02/17/sidewalk-rage-mental-illness-or-altruistic-punishment/.

Szalavitz describes the tendency of resident New Yorkers to chastise slow and distracted side walkers and to be particularly hard on the out-of-town tourists.  She uses that phenomenon as a platform to describe and employ the research on "altruistic punishment" (see my previous post).

I am in mini-research mode for a while this morning (I have odd but inexpensive hobbies).  And I got to thinking.  If we are hard-wired for altruistic punishment and derive physical pleasure from its exercise, why do we tolerate a variety of "freeloaders" in Christian congregations?  If altruistic punishment is, as Ernst Fehr describes it, "the cement of society," why is that particular construction material so lacking in many local faith communities?

Local congregations depend, by and large, on voluntary contributions from participants.  In most mainline Christian congregations, a majority of those participants contribute little or nothing in gross financial terms.  That behavior, however, is not sanctioned in any way.  In fact, that information is the most closely guarded secret in the life of the congregation.  Woe to the religious professional who might suggest that household giving should be published abroad, even in the most general of terms.  That is a highly efficient way to get one's walking papers.

It was not always the case.  Older members can recall the days when household contributions were published on an annual basis.  The result was that those in strained financial circumstances were branded with local social stigmata.  It is a good thing, in my opinion, that we do not make such sociological tarring and feathering an option these days.

We have, however, surrendered any real possibility of community discipline.  Researchers have found, after all, that this is the value of altruistic punishment.  We enforce anonymity in giving.  Moreover, we insist on "niceness" as the social norm in churches.  Is it any wonder that many congregations suffer from the social behaviors that flourish in the absence of altruistic punishment--freeloading and bullying?

There are good reasons to be very disciplined about exercising community discipline.  Kahneman notes that "our brains are not designed to reward generosity as reliably as they punish meanness.  Here again, we find a marked asymmetry between losses and gains" (Thinking, Fast and Slow, page 308).  We are more likely to punish failures than to reward successes.  And we are always in danger of enjoying the delivery of punishment more than is healthy for us or the community.

There is not enough "speaking the truth in love" in our faith communities these days.  Thus they become secret havens for non-supporting participants.  As a result, the mission of the Church--in the name of Christ to love and serve those who need us--suffers from under-resourcing and emotional intimidation.

Punishment as Brain Candy

I am re-reading Daniel Kahneman's powerful book, Thinking, Fast and Slow.  He refers to the work of neuroeconomists who have examined the relationship between "altruistic punishment" and brain imaging.  Altruistic punishment describes our willingness to "voluntarily incur costs to punish violators of social norms."  Kahneman refers to the 2004 article in Science that describes the research.  You can read the article here if you want more information:

http://www.cogitofoundation.ch/pdf/2004/Science305_27.8Fehr.pdf.

Kahneman summarizes the article in these words. "Remarkably, altruistic punishment is accompanied by increased activity in the 'pleasure centers' of the brain.  It appears that maintaining the social order and the rules of fairness in this fashion is its own reward" (page 308).  The authors of the cited article note how often revenge is described in terms of sensory rewards.  "Revenge is sweet."  Or, for we who are Trekkies, it is "a dish best served cold."

One of the insights of behavioral economics is that human conflict does not arise solely out of pathology in the human spirit.  In fact, many of our conflicts begin quite innocently in normal processes that get out of whack or remain naively unexamined.  When I have worked with conflicted churches, I have seen the power of altruistic punishment in stark terms.  Church members with no stake in the conflict engage in highly punishing behaviors on behalf of relative strangers simply because they think that something unfair happened.

Now I understand why they reported such behavior so often with smiles on their faces.  They were getting doses of brain candy as a fringe benefit of their work as avenging angels!

If we are hard-wired to experience pleasure-based rewards when we punish wrong-doers, what happens when that tendency is misdirected?  The consequences are clear in a conflicted church community.  What about times when this process happens purely internally?

For example, in my grieving I may be furious with God for treating me so unfairly by taking my loved one from me.  So I may "punish" God by withdrawing my affection, allegiance and trust.  I may seek to take revenge on God for mistreating me so horribly. And in an odd way, that act of punishment makes me feel better.

That, however, is not the end of it, perhaps.  That act of punishment may actually feel like a positive reward, if current neuro-imaging studies are correct.  If "revenge is sweet," what happens if I develop a revenge "sweet-tooth"?  What happens if I begin to enjoy punishing God (or anyone else, for that matter) simply because I like the neurological "taste" I get from the experience?  

I know that I had to confront myself at one point with something resembling that disturbing question.  I had moved from pain to pleasure in my anguish.  It was a subtle move, unnoticed and unnoticeable as it was happening.  But once I had made the shift, it became obvious to me.  Those moments that had been painful and that I had avoided were now moments and experiences I began (however unconsciously) to seek out.  

That's when I knew I had to go on an emotional diet.  I was reminded of the words of the lead character in the film, A Beautiful Mind.  He continued to wrestle with the demons of his delusions.  He chose, however, "not to indulge that particular appetite."  It is an apt description of the personal discipline required.  For some of us, refusing to indulge may be an individual decision.  For others, it may need to happen in the context of a support group or therapeutic relationship.

To fully disclose, I also noticed that my self-indulgence was damaging my relationships.  People who loved me were paying the price as I satisfied my perverse emotional sweet tooth.  It took a while, but that's what put me on the wagon in terms of this emotional sugar.

The "How Dare You" Days

I am reminded today--in my thinking, reading and corresponding--of the bitter anger that accompanies our losses for a while.  How dare the world go blithely along when I am so hurt and afraid and desperate?  How in the world can others dare to smile when all I can do is cry?  All of us who grieve have those "how dare you?" days.

How dare you complain about your everyday, pedestrian problems when you could be facing an existential crisis that seems like it will never end?  Do you have any idea how good you have it?  And do you have any idea how bad I feel by comparison?

Of course, I am feeling a strange combination of envy and superiority when I ask such questions.  I wish I didn't have to face the issues that confront me.  I wish I could go blithely and blissfully into a normal day.  And of course I am the brave, strong, insightful, profound and realistic one compared to your naivete.

Oh, how I must repent for all those smugly superior and enormously envious moments in my own journey!

How dare you enjoy a movie, celebrate a holiday, laugh at a joke, live for a bit on the silly, superficial surface of life?  Don't you know that people get hurt, die, feel abandoned and bereft?  How can you be so insensitive to the pain and suffering of those grieving people all around you!

Of course I long to live on that surface for a while as well.  And if only I could come at life with a bit of perspective and even a bit of self-deprecating humor, I might have a better chance of getting through the day.  That would require, of course, that I would step back from my own pain and begin to see it in the larger context of a world of suffering and joy.

Oh, how I must repent for all those days when I insisted on being at the center of a universe of self-serving pain!  How selfish I so often have been in this process!

And yet, I know I must be kind to myself in hindsight.  We grieving people do the best we can at the moment.  If we could let go of it all and move on, we really would.  And eventually most of us do.

I learned how to stop picking at the emotional scabs so they could begin to heal.  I learned that life is never all one thing or another.  We live in emotional oscillation at all points of our lives.  We have moments of horrific pain.  We have moments of deep joy.  We have moments of selfish anger.  We have moments of superficial silliness.  And all those moments pass out of existence.  Not one of them is permanent.

I learned to choose my responses much more carefully.  I got tired of wading through the mental molasses of angry disappointment.  I learned that whatever feelings I feed will grow.  And I became much more careful about the emotions I nourish and the emotions I put on a diet.  Making choices about how to respond to primary emotions is a significant part of choosing hope on a daily basis.

Anger and envy are, after all, secondary emotions.  Pain and fear are primary.  We can choose who to go through those primary emotional experiences if we stop, breath, think and pray.

And I am ever more grateful for the patience of those who have loved me through it all.

Joining Job's Friends

Job suffered a horrific loss--seven sons and three daughters, as well as all of his ancestral inheritance. Three friends got word of the tragedy and immediately came to his side.  They then engaged in the most healing act they could. "They sat with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great" (Job 2:13).  

I have often found these to be the most profound words in the forty-plus chapters of meditation on suffering, God and life. Job's friends sat and said nothing. 

Why is that important? Job's friends first enacted the "do no harm" rule of bereavement support. When we speak in the face of unspeakable suffering, we find it nearly impossible to keep from doing damage. We may minimize the loss the other experiences. We may insist that the other should get over it and relieve our own discomfort. We may feel the need to make excuses for God and to condemn God roundly for inaction. So we use the loss as an opportunity for theological exposition. We may make a political or social connection to the loss. So we use the loss as an opportunity to advocate for social change of some kind or as a chance to do some social analysis.

When we speak, we can hardly resist the temptation to make it about us.

We can hardly ever resist the temptation to be opportunists--usually without any intention of doing so--but to be opportunists nonetheless in the face of another's massive sense of loss.  That loss is an opportunity for nothing more or less than the need to grieve.  So Job's friends keep silence.

Of course, they would have been well-served to continue that practice for a while longer.  Unfortunately they launch into many, many chapters of damned-foolery.  And they put Job in the position of responding in kind.

Let us be quiet and do no harm.

The silence of Job's friends also has a positive function.  It is an expression of unconditional care.  Job is not required to feel better or to entertain in order to deserve the company of his friends.  He is not required to say anything or do anything in order to keep their attention.  He is not left to feel odd, damaged, weird, alienated or isolated in his loss.  He is surrounded for a whole week by the care of his friends and protected while he grows some new emotional skin.

It may be that Job's friends simply did not know what to say.  If so, they knew enough not to say it.  Thanks be to God for that.

So in this time of public loss and grief, I have been grateful for those who have sat in silence with the suffering.  There will be time to diagnose, analyze, pontificate, legislate, counsel and encourage toward healing.  There will be time to understand the depth and complexity of this tragedy.  There will be time to acknowledge the unresolvable mysteries of evil and suffering.

First, however, we might do with a little more quiet.

Remembering the Sniffles

"The hormones the amygdala triggers temporarily enhance memory function so the awful experience that triggered the response will be vividly encoded and remembered.  Such traumatic memories last, and they are potent.  Long after calm has returned, even years later in some cases, they are likely to be recalled with terrifying ease."

--Daniel Gardner, The Science of Fear: Why We Fear Things We Shouldn't--and Put Ourselves in Greater Danger, page 49.

I appreciate Gardner's reminder of the depth and power of trauma-related memories.  I would like to think that my conscious thoughts guide my reactions and responses, but then I am reminded that other things are happening as well.  I wonder if I will ever be free of deep anxiety when someone I love exhibits symptoms of the cold or flu.  I doubt it.

Those symptoms are so deeply related to my memories of Anne's last days.  Those memories are so tightly wired to experiences of regret and uncertainty and terror.  I know in my head that a cold is just a cold.  I know in my guts that this is not always the case.  In at least one instance in my life, a runny nose and body aches were the prelude to a funeral.

So on the one hand, I am deeply suspicious of those who would counsel the bereaved to get over it and move on.  If only I could surgically remove those chemically encased memories that are welded to my unconscious processes!  I would do it if I could.  I don't find the experience pleasant or rewarding in any senses of the words.  It is exhausting and frightening to spend so much time reminding myself that things are normal and sneezes are no more than symptoms of a common illness.

If I could "get over it" I would do so as quickly as possible.  But I don't choose to hang on to the brain chemistry at work here.

On the other hand, I know that these memories can return me to habits of self-indulgence that I struggle to leave behind.  I need to return over and over to the insights and disciplines that have brought me to the present moment.  I cannot choose how to feel, but I can choose how to respond to those feelings.  I cannot modulate the deep chemistry of trauma-encoded memories, but I can do the work necessary to integrate them into my day rather than to have them ruin my day.  I can pray and breathe and meditate and work.  I can go ahead and live.

I can remember the powerful phrases that help me to flourish, to love, to serve and to hope.  When I cease to ask "why" and shift to asking "what can I learn?" and "how can I serve?" the chemistry of the brain is indeed altered.

There is no fear in love, for perfect love casts out fear.  The writer of First John is always so helpful in these times.  It is not that fear is to be denied.  It is that fear can be "cast out"--managed, moderated and made normal.  That is the ongoing task--not to get over it, but to take it in and use it for good. 

From PPND--worth reading

Exercise for Spiritual Fitness

By Diana Boufford on December 6, 2012 – 12:09 pm  2 Comments

 

Diana Boufford BSW, RSW is a psychogeriatric social worker employed in private practice and through a local hospital in Windsor Ontario Canada. She is presently working toward the completion of her BA in Psychology, with a special interest in the intersection of positive psychology and geriatrics. Diana's articles for PositivePsychologyNews.com are here.

Let’s explore ways that people can build spiritual fitness, even as they experience the physical, social, financial, cognitive, and memory losses that occur more frequently and rapidly in old age. Let’s start with the story of Mrs. M.

Resurfacing Experiences: PTSD and Compassion

Sometimes due to illness, dementia, or life circumstances, symptoms of PTSD will return to prominence in older people. Mrs. M, an 89-year-old woman, was a survivor of the Siberian death camps of World War II. When she had to come into transitional care within a local long term care facility, she found herself lapsing into depression as memories and flashbacks of her years in the death camp resurfaced.

When I went to see her, she told me that due to the chronic pain recovering from surgery and to the necessity of being away from home among strangers, she found herself feeling frightened, lonely, and worried, much like she had felt when she and her family were forced onto the cattle cars that transported them to the camps. She was desperately trying to retain her hopes of returning home to her husband, who needed her to care for him, but her own recovery was slow, keeping her in the rehabilitation facility.

I shared with Mrs. M the story of Viktor Frankl, how he had been at the Auschwitz camp at the same time that she was in Siberia. I told her how, from his witnessing and suffering, a belief emerged that people are able to survive nearly anything when they have a purpose and meaning for their survival.

Then I asked Mrs. M, “What was it that you were able to do, that you survived Siberia when so many did not?”

She reflected upon this for a few moments. She then looked at me and said “Compassion. It was compassion that let me survive that horrible place.”

    Male head louse

“How was that?” I asked.

She then explained to me that there was another young girl there (Mrs. M was 14 when taken prisoner) who was intensely agitated because she was so terribly infested with lice. She had horrible sores on her head, and the blood would run down her face from the wounds created from her scratching and the biting of the bugs.

“I told her,” said Mrs. M, “that the only way to help this is to brush your hair every day! I taught her how to care for her hair. That was all I could do. I think it was the compassion I felt for her, and for everyone else, that helped me survive.”

I suggested to Mrs. M that she could draw upon these same feelings and skills to help her cope with being away from home and the pain and work of recovery. She agreed. Within two weeks, she went home. Before she left the nursing home, staff reported that her coping had improved, as had her mood. She was observed engaging in conversations with others more often, and assisting some of the residents in their daily routines.

Hands that have lived

Spiritual Fitness

This story beautifully illustrates the post-traumatic growth described by Baumgartner and Crothers, where some people, despite trauma and suffering, recover and even surpass their levels of previous functioning by developing and growing in other areas of their lives.

I believe that one of the cornerstones for the development of Spiritual Fitness is the ability to move beyond one’s basic needs and wants to serve something greater than one self. Spiritual growth can occur during periods of trauma and hardship. According to Frankl, people need a sense of purpose and meaning in life to sustain them. When this purpose and meaning is reignited, the quality of life for an elder and/or caregiver can be significantly improved. Even people who are unable to do much any more can serve by accepting gracefully the service of others, recognizing that their needs give others purpose and meaning.

Making Sense of Loss and Suffering

For those who are grieving serious losses or adversity I often employ another concept in Dr. Frankl`s work:

D = S – M → Despair equals suffering without meaning.

When people can find some meaning in their suffering, they can avoid falling into despair, and they can find strength and resolve to overcome the suffering. When people feel there is no meaning, they succumb to despair and hopelessness.

Striving for Integrity

Erik Erikson

This ties in with the last stage of Erik Erikson`s theory of psycho-social development, Integrity vs. despair. Often elders spend much time and attention reviewing their lives. They contemplate the choices they made, both what worked and what did not. They often appear to review the challenges in their lives systematically, attempting resolution.

Those who are able to reflect upon their lives and come to accept themselves and the various choices they made with compassion and forgiveness will often move forward toward feeling at peace with themselves and others, achieving Integrity.

A face that has seen 95 years

They can be fairly happy with themselves and feel that their lives were well-lived, despite the mistakes. Often they will say that the mistakes yielded great learning leading to a greater good.

Those who fail to make this journey or who do not come to forgive themselves will often fall into Despair. They may become weighed down with sadness or bitterness, feeling that it is too late and too much damage has been done. Often they find themselves in an endless loop of remembering and condemning themselves or others, further escalating the suffering. They see no meaning in the suffering, but they continue to wallow in it. Couple this with multiple losses which occur more frequently and rapidly in the elder years, and you have people that require treatment for a major depressive disorder and may be at risk of suicide.

Helping Elders Move Toward Integrity

By contrast, elders can find their days imbued with meaning and purpose achieved through life reviews that focus on resolution, forgiveness, and celebration. Reminiscence can occur in group settings or pairings, in which memories are shared through storytelling, mentoring, and friendships. Losses, the death of family, friends, and fellow residents, even their own mortality can be made more meaningful through sharing their insights and wisdom.

     Companions, reflecting together

Dr. Alan Wolfelt speaks of a narrative support that can be provided to someone who is grieving. He calls this companioning. Through sharing, people are supported as they move through their grief journeys. Growing one’s spirit and then ensuring that the wisdom gleaned throughout a lifetime is passed on is among life’s most powerful and spiritually enlightened activities, Dare I say, it is a moral, ethical, and spiritual responsibility that anyone can achieve.

Exercises for Spiritual Fitness

Elders and their caregivers can find great spiritual growth and contentment in the winter of their lives with appropriate tools and support. Here are some activities that can help elders exercise for spiritual fitness:

• Gratitude Letter: Write a letter to someone who made a difference in your life, whom you never properly thanked. Letters may even be to people who are already dead.
   
• Three good things: Keep a journal and record daily three good things that occurred or that you appreciated and why they were meaningful to you.
   

    Sharing Memories
• Life review: Allow yourself to revisit the more difficult times in your life. Explore all the strengths, skills, and insights that you developed as a result of the challenges. What good came of these? What did you learn? Were you able to pass this learning on to others? How has your learning served you and others?
   
• Reminiscence Groups: Participate in reminiscence groups sharing the various joys and hardships in your life. Listen attentively to the stories of others. Further your capacity for compassion and acceptance.
   
• Grieving: All losses involve grief. Be willing to cry, honor, and let go a little bit each day. Don’t hold on to the sadness and loss. Embrace and nurture the love and memories instead. Be a witness and companion to someone else who is grieving.
   
• Mentoring: Mentor someone. Allow someone to mentor you. Remember it is an act of generosity to receive.
   
• Serving Find something to do that will benefit others. Be a good listener, offer a warm touch, recognize the humanity of the people that serve you.
   
• Forgiveness: Forgive yourself and others. Be willing to let go of old grudges and live with greater love and freedom. “Holding on to resentments, is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” (author unknown).
   
• Prayer and meditation: I have often heard that Prayer is speaking with God, and Meditation is listening. Taking time to quiet your mind and connect with your innermost self grows your capacity to live in a peaceful, grounded, and loving place.

Conclusion

Using some of these exercises to reflect, share, and forgive, even people with great physical and mental limitations can find meaning in the suffering that comes from the multiple losses of aging.

In future articles, I will explore exercises that contribute to emotional, social, familial, and physical fitness.
 

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References

Baumgardner, S. and Crothers, M. (2009). Positive Psychology (Value Pack w/MySearchLab). Upper Saddle River, NJ. Pearson Education, Inc.

Britton, K. H. (2012). Life stories of the oldest old. Positive Psychology News Daily.

Frankl, V. (1959). Man’s Search For Meaning. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Santrock, J (1997). Life-Span Development 12th Ed. McGraw-Hill.

Seligman, Martin (2002), Authentic Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to Realize Your Potential for Lasting Fulfillment. New York: Free Press.

Seligman, M. E. P. (2011). Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-being. New York: Free Press.

Wolfelt, A. D. (2006). Companioning the Bereaved: A Soulful Guide for Counselors & Caregivers. Fort Collins CO: Companion Press.