Physician, Heal Thyself

I finished "Maybe You Should Talk to Someone" by Lori Gottlieb, a therapist who finds she needs therapy. 

She brings sagas of her own patients (with details carefully changed, she makes a point to say), along with the story of why and how she became a therapist. 

So Lori has a life event that she finds herself unable to recover from. She is so unmoored that while she gives wise guidance to her patients' crises, she is otherwise lost. She decides to go into therapy. 

What I found fascinating about this is that if a patient came to her with the same issue, chances are she would have been able to help. But she was helpless when it happened to her, requiring an outside perspective to get her over the rut. 

If a therapist, who has been trained for this, is unable to guide herself, how much more blind are we? 

It takes so much to be self-aware. Ma would say that we have to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror, but from the side, using peripheral vision. We can't be expected to handle ourselves head on. It's too much. 

Oscar Wilde said, "To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." Only the most obvious narcissists can manage to do that, I think. But coming to know oneself is a nobler enterprise, as self-improvement is a lifelong project.

Crybaby

I am not usually a crier. I'm keenly experience emotions, so I should be crier, except my mother had that European shame of overt displays of feeling (she would have been a crier too, if not for that programming). Even when she died, I did not weep excessively. 

Then, when I became pregnant with Ben, oh boy. I was bawling constantly. It took me until Ma's first yartzheit, when I was with child, to cry. I cried when there was the slightest hint of tension. I cried in the shower, just for the heck of it.

Then, when he was born—hooooooeeeeee. I cried some more. I was happy, ecstatic, but still very, very weepy. My sister reassured Han that this was normal. 

It's the hormones, yes. But I wasn't irrational. I wasn't hysterical. I just needed a box of tissues. 

Randi Hutter Epstein in "Stop Calling Women Hormonal" explains the purpose of hormones, and that blaming them is not really fair to women or to the hormones. 

I recall an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" when Ray is about to enter the house but sees through the window Debra crying on the couch. He believes she's miserable, but she calmly explains that sometimes she just needs a good cry. 

 

Then there was another episode when he believes she has PMS, and she attacks him "like a monkey tearing into a cupcake" for blaming the hormones. When Marie walks in on their argument, she actually slaps her beloved son in defense of her not-so-beloved daughter-in-law.  

So, yeah, just because I'm crying doesn't mean I don't have a point.

Unfinished

In Srugim, a plot line for a number of episodes was the character Hodaya's becoming enraptured with a project, and by the time the credits roll, she's already abandoned it. 

 

It's not like I am the master of efficiency. When I was younger, I would constantly become excited about a new project (much to Ma's frustration) and then after going on an eBay spree, gradually lose steam. I've become very cautious now when I buy any arts and craps (Ma's term) materials. 

My current obsession (in case you haven't noticed) are recipes. I bookmark them, I save them, I occasionally make them. I'm drowning in recipes, and although I do experiment with new dishes, it's not as often as my stockpile would dictate. 

Tim Herrera addresses this annoying tendency in "Why You Start Things You'll Never Finish."  It's new and exciting to start something new; however, we tend to underestimate the time and effort required. Also, perfectionism can stall a project further—but if you insist upon perfection, it will never be complete. 

A realistic checklist is recommended, to prevent us from multitasking (which is impossible, whatever they say) and getting distracted. 

But Hodaya? I'm just finding that wishy-washiness irritating.   

Fearfully Blessed

I have always feared the worst. Even before Ma died, I was constantly aware that all that I cherish could be lost. 

"What are you worried about?" Han asks me from time to time. 

"I'm always worried," I reply. 

Logically, this is no way to live. Will "foreboding joy" (Brené reference) mean that tragedy will be kept at bay? No, obviously. 

Religiously, this is no way to live. Worry means a lack of bitachon. My worrying is not effective action. My job is to do the mitzvos, and place my energies into that, not fretting. 

Additionally, why do I have anything I cherish in the first place? He gave it to me; it is up to Him whether it remains or not. 

Physically, this is no way to live. Jacking up cortisol levels isn't good for health. 

Frank Bruni wrote of his deteriorating vision: 

Joseph Lovett, 72, a filmmaker whose 2010 documentary, “Going Blind,” chronicles the slow worsening of his vision from glaucoma, told me that his best counsel was that “you cannot spend your life preparing for future losses.” It disrespects the blessings of the here and now. Besides, everyone lives in a state of uncertainty. Mine just has funky initials and fancy medical jargon attached to it.

The irony is that there is a million ways to die. Ma's death was caused by a freakishly rare illness that no one saw coming (my go-to fantasy was always a car crash. No particular reason. She was a good driver). 

After her passing, I did experience gratitude that I had the best mother for a pretty good run. I think I was appreciative while she lived, too. I hope I was. 

But I haven't stopped fretting. Now I have Han-related anxiety. "If you die, I'll kill you," I say, much to his amusement. Yet of course I know it's not in his control, nor mine. 

I must breathe, learn to rewire my faulty programming, and simply . . . cherish. Without fear of loss. 

How to Stay Sane While Dating: XVI

When I was single, I got a lot of flack for my makeup. Which I donned under my mother's supervision, mind you. 

Women (it was very rarely men, they seemed to enjoy it) would make constant comments. Too much. Too strong. 

Which, of course, was the reason why I was single. 

I will not deny that there were a number of dates that were horrified by my cosmetic choices. (They were also the guys who didn't believe in ironing.) Or there were some dates who liked my face paint, but were disappointed to learn that I had brains, too. 

Oh, that was a reason why I was single, too. "Don't act so smart on a date," I was told, once even by a non-Jewish client. 

Luckily, it wasn't an option for me to "tone myself down." I yam what I yam. And how am I to know what man likes what?

So I continued in my pink-lipped and big-vocabularied glory, poo-pooing the naysayers (with my parents' support) until the merry day that I met Han, who adores my Face and enjoys the brains that goes with them. 

Since people like to blame, they will zero on in a quality that they happen to find personally objectionable and claim, "Hey, that's why you're single!"  

In my case, my Sephora obsession was my crime. Even though these women simply chose other options for their Faces (that didn't suit them one bit, shudder), they needed to make their lives more orderly by pinpointing an obvious error and believe that "if only" the poor dear saw the horror of her ways, she would be wed by now.

A faulty presumption, indeed. 

But I wasn't in the dating game just to get married. I was in that stupid, chaotic, exhausting world to find a life partner. Someone who would see me. Someone I could see. Someone I could be my natural self with, feeling safe and accepted.  

Han's best friend's wife was told "she would never get married" if she continued in her quirky ways. Well, she did, obviously. 

It doesn't say anywhere in the Gemara how we have to suppress our personalities in order to marry. It says Hashem has it all taken care of.  

So be yourself. 

The Place for Mindfulness

My niece is always looking toward the next thing. She could be in middle of a really fun activity, but then begins to badger me with, "What are we doing next?" 

I get annoyed (reasonably, don't you think?) as she is pushing aside the pleasantness of the present by fretting about the future. She would benefit from some "mindfulness" training. 

Yet what if someone is in middle of a really unfun activity, like vacuuming or scrubbing the bathroom? Is "mindfulness" really to her advantage? Is "being in the moment" going to make her happier while pre-treating laundry? Wouldn't day-dreaming be more beneficial, if not more likely to provide a "Eureka!" moment? 

Ruth Whippman attacks the "mindfulness" movement by pointing out that it is a uniquely human ability to think outside the present. She is also irritated by the self-help movement that promotes it, as they seem to claim that there is no problem that cannot be rethought in a more glowing light, rather than finding a solution that problem. 

 

However, I think "being in the moment" has its place. Like instructing my niece that she should flipping enjoy what she's doing now, or else we'll never do anything fun together ever again, got it, sweetie? *Cough*

Also, there is beauty in everyday life that can be overlooked when we don't pay attention. When doing a neutral activity, like taking a walk. There are interesting scenes to witness, as long as we aren't busy texting. 

Whereas, there are difficult times in life when floating through unreality is a lifesaver. 

The Theory of Relativity

"That's the thing about unhappiness. All it takes is for something worse to come along, and you realize it was happiness after all." —The Crown, "Dear Mrs. Kennedy"

Whilst single, I had attempted to keep the crabbiness at bay. I had my health. I had my income. I had my family. I had my shoes. But unhappiness would still encroach, the despair following each mis-redt suitor, every disappointing date. 

Then Ma got sick. That angst vanished as something worse came along, making me realize it was happiness after all. 

As I had mentioned, we did not advertise her condition; only when directly asked as to our current circumstances did we divulge the crappy state of things. Then I would be deluged with miserable tales of loved ones' torturous illnesses, and even Ma's situation was seen as a comparably preferable one. 

Sometimes I see these "inspiring" memes that if you woke up with two working eyes and two working hands and two working feet, then you should be overwhelmed with constant gratitude. However, that's not much help when one is in pain. I'd like to feel miserable without being made to feel guilty, thank you very much. 

Perhaps it's easier to think, "I'm where I'm supposed to be. I'm experiencing what I'm supposed to be experiencing." 

That is a form of gratitude too, I think. 

Here, Aliza Bulow poignantly describes the intertwining of bitachon and gratitude in the face of illness and death. 

Advantages vs. Challenges

The human mind is an ungrateful one. It tends to focus on when things go wrong, as opposed to when they go right. 

How often do we thank the Eibishter? We tend to ask for assistance or complain more often. 

Today's society likes to say that everything is terrible. But the experts point out, in exasperation, that compared to, say, all of history, we are doing quite, quite well. 

Sendhil Mullainathan notes this quirk of psychology in terms of economic advantages. When successful businesspeople are asked how they made their achievements, chances are they will elaborate on the many challenges they had to overcome, as opposed to all the resources they were gifted, whether by birth or other circumstances. 

We tend to remember the obstacles we have overcome more vividly than the advantages we have been given. . . both Democrats and Republicans believe that electoral maps are not apportioned to their advantage. The scholars also find that, within families, people tend to think their parents were tougher on them than their siblings recognize.

Those sneaky, crafty voices can create a completely different narrative in one's mind. But it really all depends how we choose to see our world. Happy people aren't happy because they have better lives than others. They are happy because they want to be. 

How to Stay Sane While Dating, II

Why do you want to marry?

When I went on my first date at 19, I didn't necessarily want to get married. I was 19. Someone called. I went out. It's the next stage in life, like graduation or a driver's license or a checking account. It was exciting and new, but did I want it? Nah.

Over eleven years, I slowly developed a motivation for marriage. In that time, I changed as a person and as a Jew; my perspective of spouse-hunting altered significantly. I saw other happy couples and my heart would clench in my chest, envying their bond. It was no longer a box to be ticked off; it was a hunger for a satisfying, fulfilling relationship.   

Knowing your motivation: If one is single, and miserable—why? Are you hankering for the parties and celebrations? Is it because your friends are married, and you feel left out? Or are you yearning for a deep connection with a significant other? 

Maybe, once you know your motivation, you can treat the symptoms accordingly. Missing out on parties? Throw yourself a birthday bash, or don't bother waiting for your birthday to have a ball. Feeling left out? There are other singles out there who would love to hang out with you, especially when their BFF vanishes after wedlock. 

If your mindset is more spiritually soul-like, that can be addressed with the first post regarding emunah/bitachon; Hashem has your other half ready and waiting. But it may take some time. 

The Space Between Breaths

I'm not sure when I got into it. Was it when I began to dabble in yoga? Was it a recommendation from Dr. Oz? Whatever it was, now I am on automatic pilot: When tense, I exhale slowly, in order to inhale slowly. In so doing, I'm calming my nervous system. 

I've gotten gold stars from my acupuncturist for breathing correctly: inhaling deep into the abdomen, so it expands. I try to teach Eewok how to breathe, but she only so far has managed to hold her breath, or to forcefully shove her belly out. 

Breathing "properly" seems like a subtle change. Yet it has helped me tremendously.  

When gripped by a crisis, the lungs feel it. There is an elephant that inconsiderately parks itself on the chest. 

When Olivia Gagan entered therapy to deal with post-breakup trauma, her therapist insisted she focus on breathing first. She was skeptical. Wasn't she supposed to talk about it? Nope. He recommended an app to help her breathing.

In the space of breath, she became aware of her mind, body, and surroundings. By breathing, she was present. Not only did she deal with the lack of sleep, she soon discovered her own voice.  

"What Is Your Genius?"

Esther Wein explained it: chochma + bina = daas. 

One could erroneously think that all three are the same. But they are not. 

"I don't understand," Ta cannot comprehend. "She is so smart! How could she say something like that?" 

"She's smart, sure," I reply. "But Ta, you are the one who always talks about E.Q.! That's not the same as I.Q." 

There are even more facets to the mind, like rationality and intelligence. Again, do they sound the same? Kinda. But they aren't. David Hambrick and Alexander Burgoyne explain how in "The Difference Between Rationality and Intelligence."  

The work of Kahneman and Tversky showed how humans are, for the most part, irrational (is there any concrete reason why I should be scared of the dark?). Then Stanovich showed there is no correlation between high I.Q. and R.Q.—the Rationality Quotient. 

Based on this evidence, Professor Stanovich and colleagues have introduced the concept of the rationality quotient, or R.Q. If an I.Q. test measures something like raw intellectual horsepower (abstract reasoning and verbal ability), a test of R.Q. would measure the propensity for reflective thought — stepping back from your own thinking and correcting its faulty tendencies.

To my mind, this shows how certain admirable qualities are overlooked while others are overhyped—like so-called "brilliance." 

I saw this quote the other day: 

Albert Einstein wrote, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” The question I have for you at this point of our journey together is, “What is your genius?”

We all have something to contribute. The problem is when we don't realize that our "something" won't be the same as another's. 

TGIF

• "Mr. Darcy, You're No Colin Firth";

•  This sounds disturbingly similar to my typical thought process; and

 

TGIF

Some Poems Don't Rhyme linked this TED talk by Guy Winch, and I've already listened twice to his soothing, comforting voice twice.

Don't Judge For Me

Tznius. How I hate the term, and what it has come to mean. 

I'm a prude. I favor my maternal Zeidy, a European gentleman for whom my Babi considerately cut back on her salty speech. I do raise an intolerant eyebrow or two when faced with excess skin or uncouth tongues—but I still cringe at the term "tznius." 

Vanessa Friedman, a fashion reporter, wrote "Don't Ban Photos of Skinny Models." She does concur that standard advertisements feature women of only one body type, which is not good if people accept that as the norm. However: 

It’s not just because, as Mr. Khan or any other parent well knows, banning something simply makes it much more intriguing. . . 

It’s also because to judge a body healthy or unhealthy is still to judge it. . .

Just because a judgment is supposedly coming from a good place does not obviate the fact that it's a personal judgment, handed down from afar by a third party, bringing another set of prejudices and preconceptions to bear. The message in this case is that women, and young people, are not able to make such distinctions on their own. Yet that power — the ability of each individual to decide on her body for herself — is one we should be cultivating, not relinquishing.

We are surrounded by a lot of information and a lot of messages. I would rather be the one making the choice of deciding what is right or wrong for me than having strangers claim to know my triggers. 

Eating disorders have been around for centuries, in times when plump women were considered attractive. I grew up fanatically playing Barbies, but it never occurred to me that her plastic body was something to aspire to. She was stuck in heels all the time, for goodness sake. 

If I have a brain, it can be assumed that I can figure some things out without being "protected."  

To ban an ad depicting a specific body type is to demonize that type, labeling it publicly as bad. It also suggests that it is even possible to look at a woman, or a photo of a woman, and know whether she is healthy or unhealthy. That’s a misguided idea, as Claire Mysko, chief executive of the National Eating Disorders Association, acknowledges: One individual can have a seemingly normal body mass index and still have a tortured relationship with food and her physical self; another can look almost bony, and be fine. You can’t tell from the outside.

Body types, metabolisms, and lifestyles differ as much as personalities. My niece is skinny, and eats bountifully. Others may think she doesn't.

So with tznius. "What is tznius" are arbitrary parameters that are based on personal opinions that are usually biased. It encourages judging, and officially, again, people, Jews ain't supposed to judge, for that's the Eibishter's job. His alone.  

“The solution to body-shaming isn’t to limit the number and kinds of bodies we are exposed to,’’ said Peggy Drexler, assistant professor of psychology at Cornell University, and the author of “Our Fathers, Ourselves: Daughters, Fathers and the Changing American Family.” “The more sorts of bodies young women see — fat, thin, short, tall — the better they understand that bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and that theirs fits in somewhere.”

Barbie came out with dolls of various body types, and the line, I believe, is doing well. There isn't only curvy—there's also tall and petite, along with the original. We come in so many types of packaging. 

What is or isn't tznius isn't up to me, or you, or her, and I hope not him. But we can agree on what it means to be nice. I think we can.  

One at a Time

On the his first episode on M*A*S*H, Major Charles Emerson Winchester III pompously intones, "I do one thing at a time, I do it very well, and then I move on." 

 

It turns out, the fathead was right. If I supposedly "multi-task," incompetency reigns. 

I can't listen to a shiur and surf Facebook. I can't text and maintain a conversation. Preparing too many dishes at one time rarely ends well. 

There are many who claim they can multi-task. Note that they claim. Try reading this story without distraction. Can you? Will you recall what you have read? Will you have processed it?

Earlier research out of Stanford revealed that self-identified “high media multitaskers” are actually more easily distracted than those who limit their time toggling.

So, in layman’s terms, by doing more you’re getting less done.

Perhaps you are familiar with the person who is always busy, yet doesn't seem to accomplish anything? 

But monotasking, also referred to as single-tasking or unitasking, isn’t just about getting things done.

Not the same as mindfulness, which focuses on emotional awareness, monotasking is a 21st-century term for what your high school English teacher probably just called “paying attention.”

I have learned, at my work, to complete each task one by one. Then I don't come back, spend a minute remembering where I left off, then forget that one vital action necessary to prevent my having to start it all over again. 

As much as people would like to believe otherwise, humans have finite neural resources that are depleted every time we switch between tasks, which, especially for those who work online, Ms. Zomorodi said, can happen upward of 400 times a day, according to a 2016 University of California, Irvine study. “That’s why you feel tired at the end of the day,” she said. “You’ve used them all up.”

The term “brain dead” suddenly takes on a whole new meaning.

Multi-tasking is not productive at all, because not only are the jobs not done right, one is rendered unproductive in the process. 

There is pleasant satisfaction in a job well done and complete, von Pfetten writes. That reminded me of the "debt snowball method," paying off the smallest debt first even though that seems contradictory to financial savvy. When those in hock are able to cross off an item from their list, they tend to be so galvanized by that signal of progress that they throw themselves wholeheartedly into further headway. 

Kids, of course, tend to interrupt mono-tasking. In cases where tackling one job at a time is difficult, just try to do it whenever possible, like reading offspring a book while the phone is elsewhere, the article recommends. 

“Practice how you listen to people,” Ms. McGonigal said. “Put down anything that’s in your hands and turn all of your attentional channels to the person who is talking. You should be looking at them, listening to them, and your body should be turned to them. If you want to see a benefit from monotasking, if you want to have any kind of social rapport or influence on someone, that’s the place to start. That’s where you’ll see the biggest payoff.” 

Books on Change, II

The next informative text was Willpower: Rediscovering The Greatest Human Strength by Roy Baumeister and John Tierney. 

These two delve into the science of self-control: Why it is important, how much we have of it, how it is fueled. 

They posit a theory that humans are social for survival purposes, and in order to get along, one needs TONS of self-control. We can't all do whatever we want and expect to have pleasant familial/neighborly interactions.

They say, up front, that it is impossible to alter more than one behavior at a time, so don't go there (as our mussar seforim insist). This New Year should not begin with more than one item that requires fixing. Whether it is an unhealthy behavior like smoking or a toxic behavior like impatience/screaming, only one can apply at a time. 

The brain does not have separate categories for willpower; there is only one well to draw from, no matter the application. If one exhausts the supply by not killing a co-worker, for instance, h/she may come home that evening and fight with the spouse over a mildly annoying quirk. 

Additionally, one must we well-nourished and well-rested in order to have self-control since—get this—it feeds on glucose. Many who commit criminal acts have been found to be hypoglycemic (ergo the "Twinkie Defense"). That's why implementing self-control can often be exhausting; it sucks the life out of you by plowing through your physical energy supply. (Before you get excited, the best sources of glucose are from sensible proteins and vegetables, not Oreos.)

Deliciously, a lot of their scientific conclusions are echoed by our rabbanim, as heard in this shiur (cheat sheet: instead of telling oneself, "I will not eat that kakosh," say instead, "I'll have kakosh later." That fools the brain into a form of satiety, and, when the opportunity to kakosh arises, one won't necessarily even want it anymore. For reals). 

Cool, huh?

The book is jammed with more awesome revelations, like self-control leads to good self-esteem, not participation trophies.  

Books on Change, I

To get you in the fasting spirit, here's Rabbi Daniel Glatstein. 

Ah, New Years Resolutions. How they suck. 

Most of us would like to change for the better. But it's so darn hard. So I shall share books I have read recently that I found rather illuminating on the subject. I believe that if we know how our brains and bodies work, we can work with them. 

The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business by Charles Duhigg examines the science of habits, how they operate, and how they can be changed. 

He brings a number of examples from businesses to personal addictions (he was not very sympathetic to gamblers and the like), and how bad habits were overcome by altering one minor detail which resulted in a chain reaction. 

Habits work like so: 

1) Cue. 

2) Routine. 

3) Reward. 

To change a habit, one has to pinpoint what the cue is; then the mindless routine can be replaced. REPLACED. Not ignored, not overcome, but REPLACED. (Sur mei'ra v'asei tov. It's not enough to stop a behavior; one must be active in doing better as well.)

I was hoping he would provide a simple cause and effect when it came to, say, overeating (cough cough), but no such luck. I had to figure it out myself. And I did. 

Since most days of the week I arrive home at dinnertime, my routine is usually

1) Walk through door. 

2) Eat. 

3) Be nourished and satisfied. 

However, that cue is the same on Friday afternoons when I come home early, or following Sunday outings, or even applied to siblings' front doors. 

So I consciously attempted to replace the routine: Drink a glass of water. Most of the time I'm thirsty anyway, and I feel that same pleasant nourishment and satisfaction when I get hydrated. 

The whole book is quite fascinating, even though I provided the cheat sheet. 

Got the Thinks

"I feel like" vs. "I think that." Molly Worthen wants to bring the latter back ("Stop Saying 'I Feel Like'"). 

A couple of weeks ago, the parsha dealt with the Egla Erufa, a seemingly odd ritual when a dead body was discovered. Part of the ritual is when the elders and kohanim of a city would both argue for the right of responsibility for the man's death. 

Obviously, neither the elders nor kohanim were guilty for his murder. Yet, all these individuals insisted on taking the rap for it. 

This past Shabbos I was explaining to Eewok (who, like any soul, is fast with the "Not my fault") that Yehuda was worthy of melucha because he took responsibility of mechiras Yosef, the safety of Binyomin, and the incident with Tamar. 

"I feel like" is another way we abdicate responsibility. 

When we say "I feel like," there is nothing to argue. One cannot argue with a feeling, after all. "Well, that's just what I feel. I dunno why." 

Natasha Pangarkar, a senior at Williams College, hears “I feel like” “in the classroom on a daily basis,” she said. “When you use the phrase ‘I feel like,’ it gives you an out. You’re not stating a fact so much as giving an opinion,” she told me. “It’s an effort to make our ideas more palatable to the other person.”

I understand the need to "make our ideas more palatable to the other person"; I'm a non-confrontationalist. But when it comes to opinion, I'm usually not frightened to voice it. It's what I think, after all, based on personal experience, information, and my own hopefully logical conclusions.  

Yet here is the paradox: “I feel like” masquerades as a humble conversational offering, an invitation to share your feelings, too — but the phrase is an absolutist trump card. It halts argument in its tracks.

When people cite feelings or personal experience, “you can’t really refute them with logic, because that would imply they didn’t have that experience, or their experience is less valid,” Ms. Chai told me.

“It’s a way of deflecting, avoiding full engagement with another person or group,” Elisabeth Lasch-Quinn, a historian at Syracuse University, said, “because it puts a shield up immediately. You cannot disagree.”

Providing the other person isn't refuting my argument with meaningless "Well, that's stupid" retorts, I should be fine. 

It's "I think, therefore I am," not "I feel, therefore I am." Heck, animals feel (yes, some are capable of logic, but we are not discussing elephants right now).  

Is it so terrifying to take responsibility for an opinion? It's not even bearing the onus for a random corpse. 

Plus, having opinions makes one interesting. Be interesting. 

It's OK to be a Critic

I seriously read movie reviews. I can probably tell you if a move was well-received or not, claim I plan on seeing it, forget to, then find in on cable three years later and scramble to catch up. Without actually viewing them myself, I can recommend a film.

A.O. Scott is my reviewer of preference. My sister-in-law likes him too, her reasoning that since he is a father he knows what children will enjoy. If he doesn't gush about a film, I usually end up agreeing with him. 

He came out with a book recently about being a critic, and this piece ("Everybody's a Critic. That's How It Should Be.") was compiled from it. He admits having the title "critic" is akin to something of the insect family. 

The article made me think about personal versus public opinion. We all have preferences that we are ashamed of voicing (the sci-fi geeks understand). Sometimes we are loudly profess adoration of a highly contentious belief or person or book just because we know it'll get on our audience's nerves. The latter is not any more authentic expression than the former. 

What do we like? What do we believe? What do we despise? What is merely meh? Every first date is a minefield. Sometimes the other is so befuddled by the other's atypical outlook that the calendar is double-checked to make sure it's not April 1. 

I think we should all stand for something. It won't be the same something, obviously. But we can only stand for something once we know and like ourselves, and feel no embarrassment as the individuals that compose the many. 

It’s the mission of art to free our minds, and the task of criticism to figure out what to do with that freedom. That everyone is a critic means that we are each capable of thinking against our own prejudices, of balancing skepticism with open-mindedness, of sharpening our dulled and glutted senses and battling the intellectual inertia that surrounds us. We need to put our remarkable minds to use and to pay our own experience the honor of taking it seriously.

We can still be friends. Really.   

Shame We Believe In

"I can't do that," she said. 

I had been telling her about some of my healthy eating practices (she asked; I did not volunteer), but she was shaking her head in the negative. 

I already know from my own experience that when I have decided I "can't" do something, then I don't even bother to try. It's called "limiting beliefs," a term I heard from Esti Hamilton (she's got a series on the topic, check 'em all out). 

Many moons later I see this gal. "By the way," she grins happily, "I've been doing what you told me about." She looks great, if I may say so myself. 

According to scientists, addiction is not an illness like schizophrenia and cancer. There IS choice involved. I have just finished reading Charles Duhigg's fascinating The Power of Habit, and one chapter deals with addiction, specifically gambling. In "Can Shame Be Useful?", the authors address gambling addictions, but use the same term: habit. 

Whenever I read stories of addicts who turned their lives around, it was usually kick-started by a light bulb moment: I can't go one like this. I can be better. I'm letting my family down. I can't believe I did THAT to feed this addiction. 

 

It's rarely from a place of back-patting. 

So under what conditions does shame end up prodding people into correcting their course? Alternatively, when does intense self-criticism make matters worse by further fueling an addiction (for example, drinking even more to mute the pain of those shameful feelings)?

An important influence appears to be whether people buy into the notion that a habit is under or out of their control. . . 

They found that study participants who were vulnerable to experiencing shame were less inclined to engage in corrective actions when they believed their mistakes were not fixable, such as when they had no opportunity to apologize to someone they’d offended. In contrast, participants were more inclined to engage in positive behaviors when they thought their errors could be repaired.

The lesson is that shame can act as a spur to amend self-inflicted damage when people perceive that damage is fixable and manageable. In light of this finding, comparing addiction to a purely biological disorder, like cancer, might backfire, leading people to see their habits as unalterable.

I have said "I can't do that" plenty of times. Then years later, waddya know, I AM doing it. Not with effort and thought, but mindlessly and automatically. A good habit.  

Can I alter the Earth's axis? No. Can I insist that someone like me? No. Can I prevent the haze of humidity that is supposed to hit this week? No. 

Can I be more thoughtful? Act deliberately, not instinctively? Can I change my bad habits? 

 

With some elbow grease and "can"s, yup.