Hrm. I'm not sure what the intended takeaway from this column was. (to be clear: all writing has a purpose. If the purpose was for the author to vent, then my takeaway is that David Brooks is...
Hrm. I'm not sure what the intended takeaway from this column was.
(to be clear: all writing has a purpose. If the purpose was for the author to vent, then my takeaway is that David Brooks is gazing at his navel from the back nine)
A sequence of brief thoughts:
The author was touching on ambition as a means of accomplishing a reward, which speaks to the study of motivation in psychology. Those works do a great job of providing a framework for people to analyze their own motivations, if they so wish.
I expect this is because ~70% of the US population is Christian, but it's always terribly jarring to see someone reference the-capital-G, Abrahamic god in a serious and ostensibly secular text. Hopefully this person is aware that morals are relative and largely invented by popular consensus.
Same goes for casual worship of historic leaders of state.
Same goes for the term "meritocracy", in general, given how incredibly rigged the game is world over.
Viewing a competition as a zero sum game, with a winner or loser, is gross. Win or lose, you'll have hopefully learned something, and at a minimum you experienced life. We over-emphasize victory as a culture, instead of growth.
Overall: it feels like this person needs to get over themselves. This read like a self help column for Americans experiencing a low to moderate amount of ennui.
IMO, from the perspective of an amateur navel gazer: life is a long sequence of meaningless events, and then you die. At the end there await no pearly gates, no winged angels, nor scales of sins and virtues upon which your life's achievements will be weighed. So go nuts, don't hurt anyone, and try to leave the place cleaner than you found it.
Post-script
Holy crap I didn't wikipedia this guy until after I wrote my peace but damn this guy is certainly a piece of work. I'm going to go ahead and purge this article out of my brain now; I try to avoid anything political involving the USA (especially since the lake incident), and this man appears to be comprised of 30% conservative talking points, 10% nuclear hot bad takes, and 60% water. I spent a bit long on the above comment to just delete it, but I think I'm going to ignore this article to avoid getting sucked into unsavoury debates.
Well, point taken, though that seems prematurely dismissive. We can avoid the politics! Because I posted this in ~life, not ~society, I was hoping for more expression of commenters’ lived...
Well, point taken, though that seems prematurely dismissive. We can avoid the politics! Because I posted this in ~life, not ~society, I was hoping for more expression of commenters’ lived experience on that “low to moderate amount of ennui” you refer to, and other pertinent emotions.
How can you marshal ambition’s energies without being consumed by its insatiable demands? How do you live a driven life, seeking to achieve great things, without becoming a jerk?
To me, this article is not asking how well someone would be judged in the afterlife. It is also not asking how someone ought to live a simple, unobtrusive life. Rather, I see it as evaluating the possibly more difficult task of retaining humanity, interpersonal warmth, charitable measurement, and humility in a professional context that constantly undermines those values.
One might distinguish admirable but common personal achievement (like earning a degree) from pathways that sometimes make you doubt your ability to discern good and your own intentions—beyond questioning and into rumination. Brooks mentions Lincoln because his pursuit was the highest echelon of national politics, and because he apparently struggled to reconcile the opposing forces of simplicity and ambition during that quest. I think it’s useful (and interesting) to reflect on the experiences of people like this, and it doesn’t have to be worship.
Personally, I work in medical technology but devote much free time to what I hope is the betterment of society. (It is certainly not a presidential scale, but it visibly affects many people.) At the moment that tends to be the proliferation of arts & culture, as well as adult education, urban design, transportation and safety, and other more complicated and controversial matters touching on taxation and labor. It is quite easy to take on volunteer roles in causes that already feel good, not think too much on the morals, and leave unceremoniously when passion fades. It can feel comparatively uncomfortable to be in leadership positions that ensnare one’s attention more fully and which at least occasionally focus it toward the vitriol, avarice, and “hollowness” that abounds in the denizens of moral ambiguity who must be parleyed with to accomplish any reasonably impressive organizational mission.
At other times in my life, when I was more concerned with architectural and environmental aesthetics than the systems of municipal government, I may have reached the same conclusion as you—that all one has to do is “go nuts, don’t hurt anyone, and try to leave the place cleaner than you found it.” At those times, I was more privileged by distance from the worst conditions of refuse and exploitation, and I think my morals were just untested. In practice, while it is somewhat easy to do “net good” (in small absolute terms), I find that it is not easy to strictly “do no harm” in weightier politics—that idea is subjective. Even the most obviously good legislation may be opposed with such immense and earnest force that one questions one’s certainty in proposing it. One defensively falls back on scientific study and statistical data to overcome anecdotes—defenses abstracted from lived experience. And it is eventually tempting to detach from justification altogether and think only in partisan numbers: what algorithms must one execute and persuasive techniques employ to “get the votes.” When Brooks mentions “hollowness,” he’s referring to the absence of empathy that leads to this sort of worldview. (Overconfidence and technical elitism is a perilous field. My preference is to avoid that.)
Anyway, to your point on religion, I am thinking through this article and your remarks in both secular and spiritual terms, which one might interpret entirely secularly if they wish. The clearest and most reliable solution to moral quandaries and social awkwardness is, as you allude, to just “do your best, and worry less.” In the course of attempting that, I would still benefit from your and others’ experiences. I appreciate hearing personal stories and learning moments. I am seeking to train my own skill of discernment.
I'd be very happy to engage with you on this topic, if you like: ennui, public policies, how to do good, ambition and the drive to do better for oneself and others are all very worthy topics. But...
I'd be very happy to engage with you on this topic, if you like: ennui, public policies, how to do good, ambition and the drive to do better for oneself and others are all very worthy topics.
But like @kacey, I'm going to choose not to interact with the author. Not because of their religious or political views, but because of the author's track record of and Cavalier attitude with regards to facts: (from Wikipedia's criticisms section)
In reviewing On Paradise Drive (2004), Michael Kinsley described Brooks' "sociological method" as having "four components: fearless generalizing, clever coinage, jokes and shopping lists." Taking umbrage with the first of these, Kinsley states, "Brooks does not let the sociology get in the way of the shtick, and he wields a mean shoehorn when he needs the theory to fit the joke".[85] This followed the 2004 Philadelphia magazine fact-checking of (Brook's 2000 non fiction book) Bobos in Paradise by Sasha Issenberg that concluded many of its comments about middle America were misleading or untrue.[86] Kinsley reported that "Brooks defend[ed] his generalizations as poetic hyperbole".[85] Issenberg likewise noted that Brooks insisted that the book was not intended to be factual but rather to report impressions of what he believed an area to be like: "He laughed" that the book was "'partially tongue-in-cheek'". Issenberg continues, "I went through some of the other instances where he made declarations that appeared insupportable. He accused me of being 'too pedantic,' of 'taking all of this too literally,' of 'taking a joke and distorting it.' 'That's totally unethical', he said." [4]
Annie Lowrey, responding to Brooks' opinion, "The Nature of Poverty", on May 1, 2015, in New York magazine, criticized Brooks' basis for his argument for political reform, claiming he used "some very tricksy, misleading math"
In 2016, Brooks' analyzed the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Dretke v. Haley,[92][93] leading James Taranto to the critique that "Brooks's treatment of this case is either deliberately deceptive or recklessly ignorant".
When confronted by "hey you said untruths", if the response is "I was just joking" or "you're being pedantic", that is an alarm bell that someone is dangerous, and the usual "good faith" "fair chance" rules of social engagement should be weighted against the possibility of dealing with a predator on the dark triad spectrum.
I beg your pardon, then. The piece happens to pose some open philosophical questions applicable to my life—sometimes, even ridiculous people manage to articulate valuable thoughts. The question...
I beg your pardon, then. The piece happens to pose some open philosophical questions applicable to my life—sometimes, even ridiculous people manage to articulate valuable thoughts.
The question above stands. You can pretend I devised it if you wish not to indulge the author. It’s an old idea anyway. Dozens of great novels contemplate how to achieve supposedly “great” things throughout a lifetime while remaining virtuous, and the perils of taking it too far. Melville in Moby-Dick describes a Captain Ahab overtaken by a desire for a twisted kind of supernatural fairness (revenge), which drowns the Pequod and nearly all aboard. Of course he is extreme, but his employers once thought him sane enough to steer a ship, and there were several discrete moments where reason gave way to mania, like Starbuck’s last-ditch appeal, ignored. The paradox also underlies popular culture: The Dark Knight famously posits that “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” In pursuit of good, we become evil. Or rather, our evil is revealed?
You warn against the dark triad. All people suffer from some presence of these sinful traits, including me, and ambitious people may sometimes exaggerate them. But is not every emotion influenced by one’s environment? We can be led to do unpleasant things, and justify terrors; Arendt describes the banality of evil. Surely the reverse is true; some combination of will and habit can steer us toward virtuous action. Paarthurnax, in the 2011 work Skyrim, offers a surprisingly profound quotation:
What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?
I have read plenty of these novels and heard many of the pithy expressions that observe these recurrent human characteristics from century to century. I am looking for the actual experiences of the people on this website. If you are a visionary person, what salad bowl of motivations truly drives you? How do you balance those flavors against the basin of acrid inurement that defines the world of corporate dealing and electoral lobbying? Coming into contact with evil influences is all but inevitable when trying to unsettle the status quo. I am not asking you to advise me personally, necessarily, though you may. What has actually given you the wisdom to keep true course when sirens and whirlpools and monsters have tried to chip away at your rudder, and as you come into conflict with the people you love? This is not an easy strait to navigate, and the more ambitious the person, the more erratically I imagine them to be circulated in the sea of ethical ambiguity.
Hearing stories of people’s trials and tribulations is valuable because it centers their experience and their humanity. In appreciating more of these stories, I would hope to hone my discernment.
Thanks, Atvelonis, you've brought up a ton of very interesting little puzzles of life. I'd be interested in hearing from others as well. I typed up a lot of thoughts but honestly they are just...
Thanks, Atvelonis, you've brought up a ton of very interesting little puzzles of life. I'd be interested in hearing from others as well.
I typed up a lot of thoughts but honestly they are just musings of mine: someone who hasn't reached any sort of greatness, who isnt particularly virtuous, who doesn't have much of a passion for either evil nor, I am ashamed to say, much good.
The only story I feel appropriate to share about greatness is that, I think, if I had been given great wealth/influence in my youth, I would have been a very much more evil person. I would not have gained the empathy from being not-great, poor-adjacent, and the realization that I'm not as smart or virtuous as I thought I was. I would not have worked very hard but thought I did, and I would have assumed that everyone else without was merely lazy, or worse, simply born lesser and hence deserved nothing. Had I set out to become someone great (and has the luck/drive to get there), it would have been only a matter of time before I became evil like that.
This is great. Mixed motives should be acknowledged more often, in a positive way. Few people are saints. Too often, we see the opposite: shallow accusations of hypocrisy. If you advocate for...
In other words, if I’m going to be really driven, I need to harness both selfless and selfish motivations. I don’t scorn mixed motives; I live by them. I think a lot of us live this way.
This is great. Mixed motives should be acknowledged more often, in a positive way. Few people are saints.
Too often, we see the opposite: shallow accusations of hypocrisy. If you advocate for something that also benefits yourself or your organization, this is seen as a reason to dismiss the whole argument. An extreme form of this is dismissing things as “marketing” based on convoluted logic to show that, despite all appearances, an argument is somehow self-serving.
We should be able to acknowledge that people are often “talking their book,” while also being open to ideas that might still be right. Self-interest is a good reason to be somewhat suspicious and cross-check, but it's not proof that an argument is wrong.
It’s hard for me to buy into this. The question that the author doesn’t really answer is: What takes priority when the altruistic desires are at odds with the egotistical desires? The author...
Sad to say, my altruistic desires alone are not powerful enough to drive me through the hard labor required to do anything of note. If I’m going to get through the arduous work of, say, writing a book, I need to put my egotistic desires at the service of my loftier desires.
It’s hard for me to buy into this. The question that the author doesn’t really answer is: What takes priority when the altruistic desires are at odds with the egotistical desires?
The author frames his perspective through the lens of politics. Politicians have a pretty standard conflict of interest: what’s best for their constituents in the long-term and what’s best for re-election. The standard issue of political corruption comes from politicians consistently choosing to maintain their power (selfish interest) instead of sacrificing that power to actually do good (selfless interest).
In other words, if I’m going to be really driven, I need to harness both selfless and selfish motivations. I don’t scorn mixed motives; I live by them. I think a lot of us live this way.
I don’t really care about measuring drive. It appears to me that as long as those selfish interests are prioritized over the selfless ones, there’s a significant risk of more harm being done than good.
Brooks’ piece offers commentary on the experience and utility of reconciling internal ambition and aspiration, the inverse motivations that inform them, and how to evaluate the fullness (or lack...
Brooks’ piece offers commentary on the experience and utility of reconciling internal ambition and aspiration, the inverse motivations that inform them, and how to evaluate the fullness (or lack thereof) that emerges from their emotional preeminence.
Many of us habitually devise extraordinary dreams for the world: if only this or that, then things would be so much better. The source of those ideals is worth attention, and so too is the psychic “stew” in which we mediate their development—the daily society and directional life choices through which we apply our values with some fluctuating level of selectivity. The manners we employ to justify pursuit of our desires has interior consequences distinct from, and nominally irrelevant to, the end results. Yet neglecting self-reflection here might be a particularly fundamental error.
In my own spiritual discernment, I attempt to position my consciousness in a literally accepting way, listening rather than defining or explaining or justifying or dismissing. This is rarely successful in entirety simply because meditation is extremely difficult and one is easily distracted by the endless library of idle thought. But it is also difficult because one is often faced with worldly choices that conflict with one’s values, and more often because one remains enamored with one’s universal centrality. We know that we are not the Center, but nevertheless In American culture (and perhaps all cultures) we are subtly or unsubtly encouraged to forget that presumed objective Truth so that we may express absolute individuality and enforce radially outward hierarchy of deserts—at least a comfortable self-obsession very hard to abandon at the best of times, let alone under stressful conditions. So, in a spiritual sense, it is a constant and grueling challenge to earnestly pour cupfuls of love into everyone and everything, including ourselves and our own visions for change, when we are simultaneously dealing with a definitely self-dealing social, relational tendency of the mind.
I admit I live with some apprehension of being “hollowed out” by the drive to achieve. In practical matters, I tend to derive the most certainty in courses of action from utilitarian principles, through which it is easy to devise decision trees but also narrowly misjudge broad priorities; this is parallel to introspection, though, and like any wave function I think I go through more or less rigidity in my thinking at different points in the year and beyond. When I am fortunate, I experience the bliss of actual altruistic belief: true connection which exists for its own sake and persists because it is only natural to extend goodness infinitely. But that feeling is so unlike the mechanisms that society (of any number) uses to control general behavior. The world is full of evil and that evil is most often felt in the company of persons openly uninterested in grace, kindness, and healing. The disillusioning feeling we get after doing good and being insulted for it, or in seeing offensive personal qualities come to fore in our work’s beneficiaries, or after repeatedly failing despite all efforts while the less worthy succeed—that is a real and common affliction which burns our belief in human goodness and maybe our own faith. Some of my defense is simply to ignore the emotion and think of social work in only logical terms. Perhaps this is effective. But I think it leads me, personally, toward a condescending sort of detachment and an unpleasant personality which I would rather not inhabit.
I think we can learn to better live with this discomfort. It ought to be possible to strive for greatness and accomplishment and also maintain reasonable moral security in the knowledge that we actually have values and properly care to remind ourselves of them. I’m naturally tempted to search for shortcuts, ways of avoiding the effortful task of self-reflection, but there probably are none.
Curated desire, and continuous revelation, are perhaps the most trustworthy predictors of spiritual harmony for me.
Hrm. I'm not sure what the intended takeaway from this column was.
(to be clear: all writing has a purpose. If the purpose was for the author to vent, then my takeaway is that David Brooks is gazing at his navel from the back nine)
A sequence of brief thoughts:
Overall: it feels like this person needs to get over themselves. This read like a self help column for Americans experiencing a low to moderate amount of ennui.
IMO, from the perspective of an amateur navel gazer: life is a long sequence of meaningless events, and then you die. At the end there await no pearly gates, no winged angels, nor scales of sins and virtues upon which your life's achievements will be weighed. So go nuts, don't hurt anyone, and try to leave the place cleaner than you found it.
Post-script
Holy crap I didn't wikipedia this guy until after I wrote my peace but damn this guy is certainly a piece of work. I'm going to go ahead and purge this article out of my brain now; I try to avoid anything political involving the USA (especially since the lake incident), and this man appears to be comprised of 30% conservative talking points, 10% nuclear hot bad takes, and 60% water. I spent a bit long on the above comment to just delete it, but I think I'm going to ignore this article to avoid getting sucked into unsavoury debates.
Well, point taken, though that seems prematurely dismissive. We can avoid the politics! Because I posted this in ~life, not ~society, I was hoping for more expression of commenters’ lived experience on that “low to moderate amount of ennui” you refer to, and other pertinent emotions.
To me, this article is not asking how well someone would be judged in the afterlife. It is also not asking how someone ought to live a simple, unobtrusive life. Rather, I see it as evaluating the possibly more difficult task of retaining humanity, interpersonal warmth, charitable measurement, and humility in a professional context that constantly undermines those values.
One might distinguish admirable but common personal achievement (like earning a degree) from pathways that sometimes make you doubt your ability to discern good and your own intentions—beyond questioning and into rumination. Brooks mentions Lincoln because his pursuit was the highest echelon of national politics, and because he apparently struggled to reconcile the opposing forces of simplicity and ambition during that quest. I think it’s useful (and interesting) to reflect on the experiences of people like this, and it doesn’t have to be worship.
Personally, I work in medical technology but devote much free time to what I hope is the betterment of society. (It is certainly not a presidential scale, but it visibly affects many people.) At the moment that tends to be the proliferation of arts & culture, as well as adult education, urban design, transportation and safety, and other more complicated and controversial matters touching on taxation and labor. It is quite easy to take on volunteer roles in causes that already feel good, not think too much on the morals, and leave unceremoniously when passion fades. It can feel comparatively uncomfortable to be in leadership positions that ensnare one’s attention more fully and which at least occasionally focus it toward the vitriol, avarice, and “hollowness” that abounds in the denizens of moral ambiguity who must be parleyed with to accomplish any reasonably impressive organizational mission.
At other times in my life, when I was more concerned with architectural and environmental aesthetics than the systems of municipal government, I may have reached the same conclusion as you—that all one has to do is “go nuts, don’t hurt anyone, and try to leave the place cleaner than you found it.” At those times, I was more privileged by distance from the worst conditions of refuse and exploitation, and I think my morals were just untested. In practice, while it is somewhat easy to do “net good” (in small absolute terms), I find that it is not easy to strictly “do no harm” in weightier politics—that idea is subjective. Even the most obviously good legislation may be opposed with such immense and earnest force that one questions one’s certainty in proposing it. One defensively falls back on scientific study and statistical data to overcome anecdotes—defenses abstracted from lived experience. And it is eventually tempting to detach from justification altogether and think only in partisan numbers: what algorithms must one execute and persuasive techniques employ to “get the votes.” When Brooks mentions “hollowness,” he’s referring to the absence of empathy that leads to this sort of worldview. (Overconfidence and technical elitism is a perilous field. My preference is to avoid that.)
Anyway, to your point on religion, I am thinking through this article and your remarks in both secular and spiritual terms, which one might interpret entirely secularly if they wish. The clearest and most reliable solution to moral quandaries and social awkwardness is, as you allude, to just “do your best, and worry less.” In the course of attempting that, I would still benefit from your and others’ experiences. I appreciate hearing personal stories and learning moments. I am seeking to train my own skill of discernment.
I'd be very happy to engage with you on this topic, if you like: ennui, public policies, how to do good, ambition and the drive to do better for oneself and others are all very worthy topics.
But like @kacey, I'm going to choose not to interact with the author. Not because of their religious or political views, but because of the author's track record of and Cavalier attitude with regards to facts: (from Wikipedia's criticisms section)
When confronted by "hey you said untruths", if the response is "I was just joking" or "you're being pedantic", that is an alarm bell that someone is dangerous, and the usual "good faith" "fair chance" rules of social engagement should be weighted against the possibility of dealing with a predator on the dark triad spectrum.
I beg your pardon, then. The piece happens to pose some open philosophical questions applicable to my life—sometimes, even ridiculous people manage to articulate valuable thoughts.
The question above stands. You can pretend I devised it if you wish not to indulge the author. It’s an old idea anyway. Dozens of great novels contemplate how to achieve supposedly “great” things throughout a lifetime while remaining virtuous, and the perils of taking it too far. Melville in Moby-Dick describes a Captain Ahab overtaken by a desire for a twisted kind of supernatural fairness (revenge), which drowns the Pequod and nearly all aboard. Of course he is extreme, but his employers once thought him sane enough to steer a ship, and there were several discrete moments where reason gave way to mania, like Starbuck’s last-ditch appeal, ignored. The paradox also underlies popular culture: The Dark Knight famously posits that “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” In pursuit of good, we become evil. Or rather, our evil is revealed?
You warn against the dark triad. All people suffer from some presence of these sinful traits, including me, and ambitious people may sometimes exaggerate them. But is not every emotion influenced by one’s environment? We can be led to do unpleasant things, and justify terrors; Arendt describes the banality of evil. Surely the reverse is true; some combination of will and habit can steer us toward virtuous action. Paarthurnax, in the 2011 work Skyrim, offers a surprisingly profound quotation:
I have read plenty of these novels and heard many of the pithy expressions that observe these recurrent human characteristics from century to century. I am looking for the actual experiences of the people on this website. If you are a visionary person, what salad bowl of motivations truly drives you? How do you balance those flavors against the basin of acrid inurement that defines the world of corporate dealing and electoral lobbying? Coming into contact with evil influences is all but inevitable when trying to unsettle the status quo. I am not asking you to advise me personally, necessarily, though you may. What has actually given you the wisdom to keep true course when sirens and whirlpools and monsters have tried to chip away at your rudder, and as you come into conflict with the people you love? This is not an easy strait to navigate, and the more ambitious the person, the more erratically I imagine them to be circulated in the sea of ethical ambiguity.
Hearing stories of people’s trials and tribulations is valuable because it centers their experience and their humanity. In appreciating more of these stories, I would hope to hone my discernment.
Thanks, Atvelonis, you've brought up a ton of very interesting little puzzles of life. I'd be interested in hearing from others as well.
I typed up a lot of thoughts but honestly they are just musings of mine: someone who hasn't reached any sort of greatness, who isnt particularly virtuous, who doesn't have much of a passion for either evil nor, I am ashamed to say, much good.
The only story I feel appropriate to share about greatness is that, I think, if I had been given great wealth/influence in my youth, I would have been a very much more evil person. I would not have gained the empathy from being not-great, poor-adjacent, and the realization that I'm not as smart or virtuous as I thought I was. I would not have worked very hard but thought I did, and I would have assumed that everyone else without was merely lazy, or worse, simply born lesser and hence deserved nothing. Had I set out to become someone great (and has the luck/drive to get there), it would have been only a matter of time before I became evil like that.
This is great. Mixed motives should be acknowledged more often, in a positive way. Few people are saints.
Too often, we see the opposite: shallow accusations of hypocrisy. If you advocate for something that also benefits yourself or your organization, this is seen as a reason to dismiss the whole argument. An extreme form of this is dismissing things as “marketing” based on convoluted logic to show that, despite all appearances, an argument is somehow self-serving.
We should be able to acknowledge that people are often “talking their book,” while also being open to ideas that might still be right. Self-interest is a good reason to be somewhat suspicious and cross-check, but it's not proof that an argument is wrong.
It’s hard for me to buy into this. The question that the author doesn’t really answer is: What takes priority when the altruistic desires are at odds with the egotistical desires?
The author frames his perspective through the lens of politics. Politicians have a pretty standard conflict of interest: what’s best for their constituents in the long-term and what’s best for re-election. The standard issue of political corruption comes from politicians consistently choosing to maintain their power (selfish interest) instead of sacrificing that power to actually do good (selfless interest).
I don’t really care about measuring drive. It appears to me that as long as those selfish interests are prioritized over the selfless ones, there’s a significant risk of more harm being done than good.
Brooks’ piece offers commentary on the experience and utility of reconciling internal ambition and aspiration, the inverse motivations that inform them, and how to evaluate the fullness (or lack thereof) that emerges from their emotional preeminence.
Many of us habitually devise extraordinary dreams for the world: if only this or that, then things would be so much better. The source of those ideals is worth attention, and so too is the psychic “stew” in which we mediate their development—the daily society and directional life choices through which we apply our values with some fluctuating level of selectivity. The manners we employ to justify pursuit of our desires has interior consequences distinct from, and nominally irrelevant to, the end results. Yet neglecting self-reflection here might be a particularly fundamental error.
In my own spiritual discernment, I attempt to position my consciousness in a literally accepting way, listening rather than defining or explaining or justifying or dismissing. This is rarely successful in entirety simply because meditation is extremely difficult and one is easily distracted by the endless library of idle thought. But it is also difficult because one is often faced with worldly choices that conflict with one’s values, and more often because one remains enamored with one’s universal centrality. We know that we are not the Center, but nevertheless In American culture (and perhaps all cultures) we are subtly or unsubtly encouraged to forget that presumed objective Truth so that we may express absolute individuality and enforce radially outward hierarchy of deserts—at least a comfortable self-obsession very hard to abandon at the best of times, let alone under stressful conditions. So, in a spiritual sense, it is a constant and grueling challenge to earnestly pour cupfuls of love into everyone and everything, including ourselves and our own visions for change, when we are simultaneously dealing with a definitely self-dealing social, relational tendency of the mind.
I admit I live with some apprehension of being “hollowed out” by the drive to achieve. In practical matters, I tend to derive the most certainty in courses of action from utilitarian principles, through which it is easy to devise decision trees but also narrowly misjudge broad priorities; this is parallel to introspection, though, and like any wave function I think I go through more or less rigidity in my thinking at different points in the year and beyond. When I am fortunate, I experience the bliss of actual altruistic belief: true connection which exists for its own sake and persists because it is only natural to extend goodness infinitely. But that feeling is so unlike the mechanisms that society (of any number) uses to control general behavior. The world is full of evil and that evil is most often felt in the company of persons openly uninterested in grace, kindness, and healing. The disillusioning feeling we get after doing good and being insulted for it, or in seeing offensive personal qualities come to fore in our work’s beneficiaries, or after repeatedly failing despite all efforts while the less worthy succeed—that is a real and common affliction which burns our belief in human goodness and maybe our own faith. Some of my defense is simply to ignore the emotion and think of social work in only logical terms. Perhaps this is effective. But I think it leads me, personally, toward a condescending sort of detachment and an unpleasant personality which I would rather not inhabit.
I think we can learn to better live with this discomfort. It ought to be possible to strive for greatness and accomplishment and also maintain reasonable moral security in the knowledge that we actually have values and properly care to remind ourselves of them. I’m naturally tempted to search for shortcuts, ways of avoiding the effortful task of self-reflection, but there probably are none.
Curated desire, and continuous revelation, are perhaps the most trustworthy predictors of spiritual harmony for me.