The Courage to be Normal
Why is it necessary to be special? Probably because one cannot accept one’s normal self.
-I. Kishimi, F. Koga in …
What’s your goal? Beyond a vague conception of an everlasting happiness, what is it you are aiming for? What do you aspire to? Does anyone aspire to normalcy?
In The Courage to be Disliked two Japanese authors (Koga was already a best-selling writer of non-fiction before this book became a phenomenon in Japan; Kishimi is the psychologist-expert) espouse the beliefs and wisdom of Alfred Adler, who apparently ranks third amongst famous 20th century psychologists behind only Freud and Jung, and whose theories are in a way the polar opposite of his more famous colleagues (Freud’s in particular). For Freud it was all about trauma and causation, that what happened to you as a child, what your parent did to you when you were seven, is at root why you are dealing with what you are dealing with now. It is this that must be uncovered and then dealt with to make you a better, happier person. Adler’s take on how best to help us in our struggles is to almost suggest there is no trauma at all. That you are only defined by the choices you make in the present.
The irony in reading this slim and fascinating book, written as a dialogue between student and mentor by two Japanese men, is that the philosophy uncovered -- that of the Austrian so-called “founder of the Individual School of Psychology” -- sounded so very Zen Buddhist to me. In other words, they appropriated from us what we appropriated from them which they of course took from those others who themselves took it from somewhere because there’s nothing new under the sun. But I digress.
The courage to be normal. It sounds so dull, so disappointing. But then, given a little time, it can come to be downright liberating. Give me a sec. As the book’s title suggests, the goal ultimately is to stop seeking the approval of others. Only when we stop living for that will we begin to actually live for ourselves. These last sentences were dictated to me by my wife. She gets this stuff in ways I don’t. I still find it hard to fully grasp, but I’ll take Ai’s advice and use myself as an example.
Take this blog. Why write it in the first place? I ask myself that often, and more often still consider giving up. Because to what end. It makes me no money and certainly has found me no fame. As a trusted friend and fellow writer said: it’s not as if my writing goal is to write a great blog anyway. I spend much of my time trying to craft short stories, novels even that might be worth reading some day. And yet this little side project of course matters to me and I hope I’m not just writing for myself. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to do something like a blog, a podcast, hell even a social media post you put time and effort into, but the whole endeavour can often be extremely humbling. You put yourself out there. You try your best. And as often as not you get no response at all. People are busy, people are tired. You’re not quite as important as all that. Hard though not to bristle at the seeming indifference that comes with the sound that crickets make.
After a while you wonder if even you should promote, send out the emails, post on facebook where most people never engage at all. When, however, I can slow it down, ignore the likes (or general lack thereof) and remember why I came here in the first place I start to make the approval of others far less of a priority and remember to do it for myself, to communicate, to share. In this way it’s a lot like teaching. Or parenting for that matter. Endeavours that require a whole hell of a lot of giving and don’t necessarily boomerang it all back. Of course this is isn’t why we do any of these things. You don’t give expecting a return. You don’t. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be hard. The goal then is to keep the head down as much as you can, to trust in it, and remember why you got caught up with the thing in the first place. Instead of aiming for something great and grand and all the accolades you dream will follow, to instead just try and do your very best and make that good enough, if only for today.
I see a great movie, I want to share it. I read a great book and have a deep chat with my wife, I want to share it. So what if I’m not nearly as witty as Sarah Silverman, or as erudite as a hundred thousand others writing words online or in print. So what if the “influencers”, whoever they may be, don’t retweet. The approval actually just gets in the way anyway. Pat yourself on the back too hard it’s just as troublesome as coming down on yourself too much - either way you’ve taken your eye off the ball.
Trust in the process. That the more you do it the better you get. That regardless it is in the doing that you feel your best.
All of which is to say: trust in the now. Adler’s theory at heart, as this layperson understands it, is that ultimately whatever happened to you in the past is actually of little consequence to the choices you make in the present. Your life is lived in the now and your satisfaction is thus only affected by what you are doing right now. This is where trust in the process comes in. That though what you give may not bear much fruit, though you might prove far less than great in whatever it is you do, to put your head down and give it a shot - this is the very essence of being in the now, also known as being in the zone. What happens after really isn’t up to you anyway. Besides, that’s the future. Adler’s not very interested in that.
The Hague, Netherlands
Happiness is elusive but I’m fairly sure that unhappiness can be better avoided when we stop looking at others so much. If holding onto anger, as the saying goes, is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die, then perhaps envy is like drinking poison while watching others thrive.
What all this may mean for you I’m not sure, but I know in the case of my writing and for this blog, as my website’s mainpage says, it comes down to a simple idea that may not be so very special, it may in fact be quite normal but just to do it: One word at a time.