Bad Banker
I love reading NewYorker cartoons. With one picture and a short caption, many of these cartoons lightly capture existential truths that would require entire books to unfold. Last week’s issue featured a cartoon that showed a depressed man lying on a psychiatrist’s sofa, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. The psychiatrist looks at him and says,
“Just because you work at a bad bank doesn’t mean that you are a bad banker.”
We are learning the hard way the devastating results of an unrestricted selfish focus on short-term monetary gain: of bad bankers doing bad things. And we are seeing the public’s anger at the people who pursued vast quantities of wealth, seemingly without concern for consequences to others. As the cartoon suggests, then, does the pursuit of wealth necessarily label us as “bad”? This may lead us to believe that we have only two options: to relentlessly pursue wealth and risk following the path of those whose irresponsibility led us to this point (and become a “bad banker”), or reject wealth as inherently corrupting, and focus instead on the development of morality and spirit? The best of philosophical and spiritual teachings tell us that there is a higher resolution which leads to an understanding that allows us to experience wealth while maintaining a path of growth and concern for others. These teachings urge us to move from a mode of greed to one of abundance.
To many, these terms may sound similar because both are associated with wealth and prosperity. It’s not surprising, therefore, how much confusion – in my experience - there seems to be around this distinction. So, in order to make the difference very clear, please allow me to present a very simple metaphor:
Two young brothers are each given a pile of birthday gifts from their parents. One child quickly opens the presents, and after he is done feels let down. “Is that it?” he complains. “How come I didn’t get all the stuff I was hoping for?” He compares his pile to his brother’s. “Why did he get such good stuff? That’s not fair”. He feels slightly sick, and then is suddenly angry.
The other child opens his gifts. “Wow!” he says. “Look at all these gifts.” He plays happily, and feels good knowing that these gifts came to him from his parents simply because he is their child. He looks over and sees the anger on his brother’s face. “I wish that he could feel better so we could play together”, he thinks.
This is a deliberately simple example because the essential differences are simple: different basic beliefs in the fundamental workings of the cosmos. We can distinguish between greed and abundance as follows:
Greed,
• begins with belief that there are limited resources, leading to a feeling of lack - that there is not enough for everyone.
• flows from the fear of not being good enough as one is and with what one already has, leading to hording and accumulation for its own sake, with the hope that “someday I will have enough to feel secure”.
• builds the desire to only receive, leading to selfishness and sole reliance on one’s own limited energy source, producing fatigue.
• sees wealth as an end in itself, stemming from the sense that life is basically meaningless, leading to depression.
The Greek philosopher Epicurus said of greed,
“Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.”
Abundance,
• begins with recognition of the incredible richness and diversity of creation, leading to knowledge that, if treated with respect, there is more than enough for everyone.
• flows from a love that come through the recognition that wonderful gifts are given to us “unmerited”, leading to gratitude.
• builds the desire to participate, leading to the urge to give, and increased energy from the limitless Source.
• sees wealth as a tool and a gift, stemming from the knowledge that life is inherently purposeful and gracious, leading to happiness.
The motivational teacher Wayne Dyer said,
“Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.”
Of course these differences manifest with an infinite variety, depending on the person and their experience and inclination, but this framework presents the essentials of each. The ancient Jewish book of wisdom, “Saying of the Ancestors”, asks, “Who is rich?”, and answers, “One who is happy with his lot”. This does not mean that we should be complacent, and not strive to increase our wealth, or that we should eschew ambition, but tells us that abundance can not flow when we are not grateful for the gifts that we already have. In fact, gratitude frees us to pursue prosperity free of attachment. Like the child who sits amid a pile of presents and complains that he does not have enough, though, ingratitude shuts out abundance because - to stay with the earlier metaphor – a good parent will not give any more gifts to one who is ungrateful for what he has.
When we look at the incalculable vastness of space and the unbelievable diversity of species and resources on our planet, we see that the essential urge of creation is endless abundance. We do not need to be “worthy” of abundance because it already exists, just waiting for us to recognize and appreciate it. And this abundance has been provided to us as a blessing of our birth. Wealth, then, is a blessing that facilitates our purpose and supports others. From this perspective, greed is a distortion of the intuition of infinite abundance; when we project that intuition on to physical objects and our own fleeting needs.
There has been much written recently about how to tune in to and attract abundance. Unfortunately much of this has focused merely on receiving desired material gains, as if there is a magic secret for manipulating the Universe in to giving you the stuff that you want. True abundance, though, is a two-way flow of giving and receiving – not only material wealth, but attention, concern, and love. The greatest abundance flows when we too desire to be a blessing to others, paradoxically creating more abundance for us. As Joel Osteen said,
“When you focus on being a blessing, God makes sure that you are always blessed in abundance. “
Feeling Lucky?
Recently, I came across a very interesting article in Newsweek magazine. The article explored this question: Why do some people survive accidents and natural disasters while others do not? In an economic environment that presents challenges for which many of us have no reference, this question is very pertinent. Are survivors simply lucky, while others are somehow left out? The Newsweek article explored the concept of luck through a book titled “The Luck Factor”, written by psychologist Dr. Richard Wiseman. Dr. Wiseman identifies four “essential principles” that most people who experience luck have in common.
The first principle is that lucky people maximize chance opportunities. People who survive - and even thrive - in adversity increase their chance to be lucky by creating a large network of relationships, because the more people one knows, the better the chances of “stumbling” on to a lucky event. Wiseman also discovered that lucky people have a calm alertness, which allows them to see possibilities which others - who may have a narrow, single-minded focus - miss. Wiseman conducted a very illuminating experiment that revealed this quality. He interviewed two individuals: one who considers himself lucky, and one who considers himself very unlucky. He told these two volunteers that he would interview them in a coffee shop, and arranged individual times to meet them there. In reality, the coffee shop itself was the experiment. Wiseman placed a five dollar bill on the step leading up to the coffee shop, and arranged to have the shop filled with customers, except for one table, where he placed a wealthy businessman. First, the “unlucky” person approached the coffee shop. He was so focused on the interview, and so apprehensive about his performance, though, that he missed seeing the five dollar bill. He then sat next to the businessman and, without saying a word, waited nervously for the interview. Soon Wiseman arrived, and asked him,
“So, how was your morning”.
“Oh, nothing special” he replied. “Same as usual…”
The “lucky” man later approached the shop. He spotted the bill, put in his pocket, sat down next to the businessmen, began a conversation, and exchanged business cards. Wiseman arrived and asked this man the same question.
“I had a great morning”, he answered. “I found a five-spot on the step and met a promising new business acquaintance. Lucky as usual!”
The point is clear: same situation, but different attitudes lead to different results, and different “luck”.
Wiseman’s second principal is that lucky people listen to their intuition. They trust their gut feelings, and act on them, in combination with analysis of the facts. These people also take steps to boost their intuition, and Wiseman discovered that the majority of those who consider themselves lucky meditate on a regular basis.
The third principle notes that lucky people expect good fortune. They assume that their good luck will continue, and that their interactions with others will turn out well. Consequently, lucky people tend to believe that they can achieve their goals, so they persevere, even when others would give up. Unlucky people tend to pessimistically believe and do the opposite.
The fourth principle is, for me, the most profound and revealing: Lucky people turn bad luck in to good luck. They see the positive in even seemingly bad situations, and do not dwell in negativity. Wiseman conducted a study in which he asked people to rate, on a scale of -3 (very unlucky) to +3 (very lucky), the following scenario: You are standing in line at a bank, when suddenly a gunman burst in and fires a shot that hits you in the arm. Unlucky people rated this as a -3; “That’s a terrible situation!” they say. “Here I am, minding my own business, when I get shot in the arm. Just my bad luck!” Lucky people rate this as a +3. “I was very lucky”, they say. “I could have been shot in the head, or my spouse could have been shot, or a child could have been killed.”
Luck, then, is a perspective; an inclination. In this light, there is no “luck”, just our choices about how we respond to the events of our lives. We can put the worst spin on these events, looking at the negative and bemoaning our fate, or we can choose to see with the eyes of gratitude for the good things that we do have, with the recognition that things could be much worse, and that others suffer more than we do.
Wiseman suggests that we keep a “Luck Diary”; that we write down all the lucky things that happen to us. This is very similar to the spiritual practice of listing our blessings. Jewish tradition asks that we count 100 blessings each day. In this context, blessings are not only our extraordinary good fortune. We can find a blessing in waking up, in having a body that works, a bed to sleep on, a house to live in, food in the refrigerator, clothing to wear, a car/train to get to work, friends, family, the sun, trees, a planet to live on… This is a powerful practice (and one that I much too often overlook), that enables us to see the abundance of good luck that we may usually take for granted.
When we consciously see the abundance of blessing in our lives we begin to see that there is a Divine intentionality that is ultimately beneficent. We may or may not believe that this is true; this is a matter of faith. Certainly, terrible things do happen to innocent people, for which we can not readily see any positive outcome or intent, and chance, often unwelcome, event do happen to us. That is a fact. Yet we can choose how we interpret these events and how we respond; whether we are victims or are active partners in our lives. Our attitudes can become self-fulfilling, because when we expect the best – when we assume that things will work out, and that we can solve the inevitable challenges that arise - we are motivated to work to achieve positive goals. And visa versa. From this perspective, our struggles are inevitable bumps in the road. And, perhaps, these bumps are exactly what are needed to get our attention, keep us from falling asleep at the wheel, teach us how to become better drivers, and make the ride more interesting.
What a Jerk!
Who is pushing?
I turned to see a tall bald man looking down at me as the train pulled in to the platform. I let two people in before me, and that’s when I felt the push. As we turned toward the seats I felt another push on my back, and again looked at the man, who now released an annoyed huff of breath. What a jerk! I thought. Does he think that he’s the only one who deserves a seat? Then I felt a poke on my shoulder, and in a loud angry voice the tall bald man said,
“What are you looking at? You got a problem, buddy?”
I saw people turn toward us.
“I don’t have a problem”, I answered, trying to sound calm. “How about you?”
He shook his head dismissively, and found a seat. I spent the next 20 minutes replaying the incident, imagining better, more biting responses than my lame answer, and plotting what I would say to him the next time we met on the platform, to show him that he was wrong, inconsiderate, and rude.
I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Why am I so worked-up over this little incident?, I asked. As my breathing slowed I began to relax, and let myself feel the emotion; the sense of indignation, personal offense, and obsessive replaying of the event. I knew this feeling well because I had taught others about it, and now I was experiencing it directly. The teaching that I learned is:
That which irritates us most about others is usually an aspect of our own personality that we dislike, but do not want admit to ourselves.
Then the encounter came in to focus. I was anxious to get a seat on the train, and was tempted to rush on to grab the first available seat. But because of my self-image as a “spiritual person” I let others in front of me. The tall bald man’s aggression, however, was a reflection of my own feelings of anxiety about getting a seat, but I was unwilling to admit that I too am pushy, so I vehemently condemned him in order to reassure myself that I’m not like him. His unwillingness to recognize me as a “spiritual person”, though, brought my self-image in to question, prompting the thought, Maybe I am the pushy jerk here. (If he had smiled and congratulated me for letting others ahead I would have gladly stood for the trip, feeling secure and validated.) But that was very difficult to look at and accept, so I immediately rejected that option, and blamed him. And the internal drama grew… Whew!!
This insane dynamic – the reluctance to accept parts of ourselves that don’t fit the self-image that we’ve created, who we like to think that we are, and who we want to appear to others – is actually a universal human experience. The Swiss psychologist Carl Jung named it the “shadow”, because it contains the thoughts and feelings that we’ve subconsciously sent to the dark shadows of our psyche, hoping not to be found, out of fear that our self-image will be challenged. If our self-image is, for example, I am self-sufficient, I am humble, I am caring, or I am spiritual, then natural thoughts and emotions which conflict with this self-image, such as feelings of incompetence, need for adulation, self-involvement, or anxiety about getting a train seat, will be disowned to the degree in which we identify with the self-image. We then lock these thoughts and emotions behind a wall in our psyche so that we can avoid looking at them, where they remain stagnant, stuck at the age when they were repressed, never growing, and never maturing. We may think that we’ve eliminated the unwanted feeling by locking it away, but there it waits, ready to emerge when provoked. If unaddressed, our shadow qualities can damage our relationships, limit our effectiveness, and make us anxious, depressed, and frustrated.
So, how can we recognize our shadow side? Emergent shadow emotions have a particular quality that differentiates them from other responses. The following are a few common indicators:
Inappropriate reaction to another’s actions: This may take the form of under-reacting (“numbing out”), or over-reacting (“acting out”)
Recurrent complaints about others: Unless we live in a sealed environment that is, improbably, composed of a particularly annoying brand of human being, we need to look to ourselves as the common factor.
Snap Judgments: When we find ourselves making a snap judgment about someone that we just met or do not know, it is likely that we are projecting an unwanted aspect of ourselves on to the other.
What to do? The following are a few suggestions for positive actions:
Embrace your shadow as an opportunity for growth: The central commandment in the Bible is “And you will love your neighbor as yourself.” In other words, you will love others as you love yourself; to the degree that you can accept yourself, with all your perceived shortcomings.
Ask for honest input from a trusted friend, and LISTEN: Our friends and families usually see our “blind spots” - those troubling aspects of our personality that are obvious to everyone but us. It requires courage to listen and seriously consider that the other person may be telling us something that is true and useful.
Don’t take yourself so seriously. Find humor in the situation. OK, I am feeling pushy. It’s not the end of the world, and doesn’t mean that I’m not “spiritual”. It just means that I’m a human being who wants a seat – just like the tall bald man.
The good news is that we tend to unconsciously select spouses, friends, work and social situations that bring our shadow forward. We do this because, in our hearts, we want to be known and accepted for all of who we are, and we are drawn to these people and situations that we intuit will help lead us toward repair and wholeness. In this way, people who bring up our shadow side are our teachers, to whom, if we can, we ought to feel gratitude. So, dear tall bald man, thank you for inspiring this message and helping me to be aware of my own aggressiveness. But, in the future, please don’t push!
Me, Me, Me
Hi,
This is Alan Lurie, author of “Five Minutes on Mondays”, and this is my very first blogging experience… (It took me a while to get a cell phone too). I hope that you enjoy.
My wife and I subscribe to NewYorker magazine. We ordered this magazine hoping that the sophisticated articles, witty fiction, and list of goings-on around New York City would make us more cosmopolitan. In truth, though, each week we place the new issue in the magazine rack in the bathroom where, when I have a spare moment, I only read the cartoons. One cartoon has stuck with me: A man is sitting at a table across from a young woman. He is well dressed, his hair is carefully combed, and with a dapper expression on his face, he leans forward to talk to the woman. The first frame shows him speaking, with the caption, “me, me, me.” In the second frame he continues talking with again the caption, “me, me, me”. The third frame repeats this pattern. Finally, in the last frame, he sits back and says, “Well, that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What do you think of me?”
We laugh at this self-involved man, who only seems to care about himself and how he appears to others, but most of us do care very much what other’s think of us. We care because in our hearts we have a deep need to belong to a community. This need is built in to our very structure; we crave the warmth and safety of community, and dread the possibility of being abandoned and rejected. None of us can live alone, and this need to belong begins in childhood, when we are totally dependant on others for our very survival. We are inherently communal creatures, so we naturally care what others think of us in order for us to understand our role and position, and to know that we are valued and safe. As demonstrated in the cartoon, though, our care for what others think of us can manifest in unhealthy ways when, from feelings of inadequacy and the anxiety that comes from the possibility of loosing security, the need to belong leads to fear: the fear of judgment and rejection, of being labeled in a way that is counter to our desired self-image, and of the uncertainty that would result should we need to change.
These fears put us in the position of either living our lives as puppets to the perceived opinions of others, or as a drive to dominate others so that we can feel safe. Either way, our relationship with others becomes one of control of controlled - controlled by the perceived opinions of others, or controlling others so that they will think well of us. At the extremes, we can loose our identity in the desire to please or the drive to manipulate: clearly not a good way to live, and certainly not a path to health and growth.
There are many New Age teachings that tell us that we should not care what other’s think of us; that, according to a popular saying, “What others think of you is none of your business.” At the level of control/controlled this is absolutely true. When we feel inadequate we tend to project these feelings on to other people, and we will then constantly be on the vigil for confirmation of our worth. In order to change this pattern we must first learn to stop worrying about what we think other people might be thinking of us, and instead remind ourselves that we are inherently worthy as human beings, with the capacity to decide for ourselves how to live our lives. On the other hand, we do live in relationship to a community, and what others think of us reflects how well we interact, our impact on others, and personal areas that require attention and growth. So, how can resolve this dilemma? Are our only choices to care what other people think of us and become neurotic worriers, or stop caring and become insensitive and irresponsible? Not exactly wonderful alternatives!
The good news is that these are not our only choices. As individuals we can engage in three basic categories of relationships. The first is an internal relationship with ourselves - an I-I relationship. Here, we introspect and look inward so that we can better know ourselves. Meditation practice helps us to grow this relationship. Since this relationship, essentially, is a monologue, it has limitations, though. If we only rely on our interior conscious to guide us, we can develop blind spots (those things that everyone sees in us, to which we seem strangely unaware), and if we truly stopped caring what other people think of us, we could fall in to solipsism, in which we only recognize ourselves as real, and become oblivious to how our actions affect others.
The second type is an I-It relationship. This is the relationship that we have with inanimate objects, but also can be how we relate to others - as objects of our needs. One who cares about the opinions of others out of fear of abandonment is relating in this way; relying on other people in order to feel better about himself and to confirm or reject his worth (me, me, me). Although it seems that I-It is a two-way relationship, like I-I it is also essentially a monologue, since the only feelings that objects have are the ones that we project on them. Here, the advice to stop worrying about what others think of us is absolutely right. The Bible displays this dynamic in the famous story of the spies: Moses sends twelve spies in to Canaan in order to bring back a report of the inhabitants. 10 of the spies return in panic, saying that the land is filled with giants. “We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them”, they say. Of course there were no giants, but the spy’s own self-perception as small and weak led to them believe that others saw them the same way, sapping their confidence, and undermining the needs of the community. Because of this negative self-image, the entire generation was deemed unworthy to enter the Promised Land, and the Israelites had to wait for the next generation, born in the wilderness, to enter the next stage of human development - freedom.
The last type or personal relationship is I-You. Here, we engage others as fellow human beings who have the same needs and desires as we do. In this way, instead of looking to others for self-validation, we can create healthy relationships of support and nurturing where we care about what the others think because we value their opinion, and know that their input is for our benefit. This is the only relationship that is truly a dialogue. The great teacher of this type of relationship is the theologian Martin Buber. In 1923 Buber wrote his famous essay, Ich und Du, usually translated as I and Thou. Buber asserts that I-You relationships happen when people meet without agenda, without pretense, in honesty and authenticity. Buber says that such encounters are powerfully transformational because in those moments of deep connection we experience the Divine in the other. That spark of recognition is God’s presence in the world. At that moment we are quite literally looking at the face of God in the full presence of another human being. Buber writes (in a style that is poetic and mystical);
The basic expression, I-You can be spoken only with one’s whole being. The concentration and fusion into a whole being can never be accomplished by me, and can never be accomplished without me. I require a You to become me; becoming me, I say You. All actual life is [this type of] encounter.
In other words, the only way that I can truly know myself is in relationship to another. I am incomplete alone because I need the dynamic of a deep relationship with another to become myself as an image of the Divine. In this way, I do care deeply about the regard that others have for me, but not in order to control or be controlled, but so that I can rise to my true self.
Imagine truly living in this consciousness - in the awareness of the Divine in other people and, consequently, in yourself! In this way, you would hold other’s opinion of you in high regard, as a vehicle for growth, without fear or rejection. This can be very difficult, even in romantic and family relationships, since we tend to shield ourselves from this level of intimacy. This type of connection is especially difficult in business, since most of our relationships are transactional, and we naturally tend to fall in to an I-It approach. But a more profound connection will create a stronger bond of loyalty, and help us to better understand the deeper needs of our co-workers, clients, and peers; to feel their concerns as our own, and to grow together. It requires the courage and existential confidence to drop our shields of defense, and let another person see us fully, so that we can see them fully. This is a connection of love, and is the only avenue we can choose if we hope to create a better world for ourselves and for our children.
Wising you well,
Alan
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