OBSTACLES TO SELF-REALIZATION, PREDICTORS OF SELF-DEFEAT!

THE OBSTACLES TO SELF-REALIZATION,PREDICTORS OF SELF-DEFEAT---from the pages of CONFIDENT THINKING

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
© October 16, 2009

REFERENCE:

My computer developed multiple viruses. For more than two weeks, I was unable to transcribe my thoughts generated during my daily walks. A strange thing happened. Nothing came to me as I walked. My computer is now healthy. Wondering has returned.

We use the word “virus” with our computer when it goes on the blink as if a computer is a living thing, while we use engineering terms to describe our mechanistic society. This unconscious process gives psychological identity to the inanimate, and then leads to our entrapment in its confinement. Notice how we talk about thinking outside the box, when it is the metaphore of the box that is the structure of our thought.

* * *

Those who read me know I process the past in terms of a personal narrative. In so doing, I leave out many things that don’t readily fit into the story telling. By focusing on ordinary events within the parameters of my experience, I note things we usually take for granted or leave out being overwhelmed by the problem solving.

Stories have a way of getting inside such obstacles to reveal truths buried in the perturbations. A wonderer exploits this advantage, leaving it up to the reader to assess its relevance or the quality of the wondering.

* * *


WHO DO YOU TRUST?

A person was telling me the other day about a set of boy twins, age four, who appeared much slower than a set of girl twins of the same age of another family. She picked to pieces the differences between the twins in quite knowing terms, implying something was wrong with the boys. But is there? How can we be sure?

Boys are typically slower than girls out of the starting blocks of life. Yet medical science on slim evidence has placed many parents near panic with the idea that autism is a pervasive condition.

Psychiatrist Dr. Bruno Bettelheim some forty years ago got it all wrong when he headed the prestigious Orthogenic School of the University of Chicago. He treated autism as a behavioral and psychological condition when understood today to be a brain disorder, a disorder nonetheless that is not clearly understood.

Autism has become the catchall phrase to mask developmental concerns. Neurological brain dysfunction is difficult to identify, yet often diagnosed by physicians and psychologists arbitrarily on behavioral evidence, alone. A series of qualifying autistic related indices are subjective at best and imprecise at worse, and can be misleading. It is therefore wise for parents to seek a second and third prognosis before they go into a panic.

We are an explanatory culture good at describing our problems but not necessarily good at defining or resolving them. Currently, autism is on the front burner. It is a condition the medical profession is reporting with increasing frequency, especially with regard to its appearance in boys, but is this reporting reliable?

Parents trust the authority of medicine, and well that they should, when medicine is on solid ground. In the case of autism, however, it remains something of a medical mystery. The AMA has not been too candid about this fact. Pharmaceuticals are being used with autism as with Alzheimer’s, and we know how little is known about that disease.

What is known is that some children are late or circuitous bloomers. This is but one example.


DIRK DEVLIN, A STORY OF LATE OR AMBIGUOUS DEVELOPMENT

Buried in all these statistics and the anguish caused by them is a basic cultural phenomenon that has no limitations. It is the tendency to compare and compete, to view one child against another child as to how those respective children embrace and deal with life.

There is a real danger of self-fulfilling prophecy by designating and treating some children as fast and other children as slow learners. I am not at all certain these boys are slow. It reminds me of the case of Dirk Devlin.

* * *

Dirk was considered slow as a boy coming from a dysfunctional situation. Out of the trauma of his early existence, he turned out to be a loner, which he remained during his developmental years.

For the first five years of his life, he lived with foster parents or relatives but not with his birth parents. His father was wild and mainly unemployed, and his mother was in a sanitarium having suffered a mental breakdown after having three children in four years, and weighing only eighty pounds on a five-one frame.

Dirk lived with his great aunt and great uncle during part of this period, and found himself with many of his cousins, as several of the parents of these children were in various states of divorce, separation or family abandonment.

His great aunt owned and ran a tenement house with ample space for all these relatives, but not sufficient energy for the parenting. His great uncle ran a successful commercial roofing business.

The aunt had a special affection for Dirk as she had also reared his father, who was left parentless when his mother died in childbirth and his father took off never to be seen again. She could see Dirk was a child who preferred to be alone finding no reason to force him to play with the other children.

Not only was he a loner, but once he started to school he refused to talk. The nuns designated him as slow and put him in the slow section of the class. He found this strange as he identified with the more alert students, and loved listening to them recite in class. He loved school. He found it safe, secure, orderly, and controlled. It had structure something he had not experienced before.

Written work delighted him but he still refused to participate in class. Was this shyness? Could it be insecurity? Did he fear being embarrassed? That is what the nuns concluded, so they left him alone.

* * *

Years later, looking back, Dirk decided it wasn’t any of these things. He had a hunger to learn and felt no advantage when he was talking. Even in that tenement house he would watch the other children, study the way they behaved and marvel at some of the things they would do and say, but he had no desire to join them in the doing.

A big child for his age, he was always thought to be older than he was as he was taller and huskier than most others of his generation being six foot by the age of fourteen and still growing despite having a mother of five-one and a father of five-seven. When you are tall as a boy, people tend to think you are more mature than you are. He suffered for that perception, as he was quite immature.

Perhaps Dirk's greatest blessing was that his great aunt and mother never attempted to change him but accepted him as he was. The result was that he changed as his interior dial or center developed, which would become the key to his idiosyncrtic character.

* * *

Dirk never became competitive, never cared to be anyone else, never looked for a hero with whom to identify, and for this skewed orientation away from the norm he became an unusually strong personality, a conundrum and frustration to many.

The good nuns taught him he was not on earth to punish other with his talents or bother them with his problems, but to develop his talents and use them to the benefit of others. It was their job as educators to identify these talents, give them life and expression, and define their usefulness.

Nuns, he discovered, were not without venial subjectivity.

Dirk might receive the highest grade on a test, but was apt to hear, “Nice job, Seamus,“ as the nuns (and his mother) preferred his given name, "but what a surprise!" Even his most supportive nun, his eighth grade teacher, who applauded his skills as a basketball player and budding scholar of Catholic doctrine, drew the line when it came to special competitions.

The sixth, seventh and eighth grade students participated in a spelling bee elimination competition to see who would represent the school in the County Spelling Bee Contest. Dirk won the competition. Expected to win was John, a genuine prodigy, a gifted student, and a classical pianist of the first rank.

Dirk's teacher and the school principal took Dirk aside and sat him down and said, “You won the contest, Seamus, but we think we will have a better chance of winning the county contest if John represents the school.”

A puzzled expression crossed Dirk’s face as he attempted to process this information. “Stir, I don’t understand. I thought I won the contest?”

“Well, let us put it this way,” his teacher told him, “it seems all the easy words came your way, and all the hard words came to John.”

Anger welled up in him; anger was a dominant humor to his personality. He wanted to say, but Sister, I knew all the words, every one of them. He didn’t say anything out of respect for this special nun whom he loved.

He was discovering that he had a good memory; that he could see in his mind a page reference in a book, or find a quote without much trouble.

It was a gift his mother had, but a talent that had gotten him into trouble when he was at university. Professors thought he was cheating when clearly he was not. It wasn’t confined to printed words. He could remember lectures nearly verbatim, and what people had said months ago, but now denied. It amazed him how often people lied, how easily they would forget what they had said before, as if they had never said it.

* * *

Disconcerted by the nuns' put down, but also relieved, he now recalled what his mother had said: “You are high strung, Seamus. You don’t handle stress well. You must be better prepared than anyone else because if you’re not the floodgates will open and all hell will break lose reducing you to a blabbering idiot.”

This proved true years later in an organic chemistry test at university. Dirk went into the test with an “A” average, looked at the test, and panicked, getting a 52 percent on an “F.” He was shocked and dismayed but had the temerity to visit his professor. “I think I lost it,” he confessed.

“Yes, I think you did,” his professor agreed, taking out his grade book. “Your lowest grade before was a 92, and a 52 on this test. What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you’re here to see what we can do about it, is that right?”

Dirk remained silent.

“Well, sir,” the professor continued, “I’ll put it this way. You no longer have an ‘A’ average, which is 90 percent, averaging this grade into your previous tests, but you’re close. That said if you average 90 percent or more on the rest of your tests this semester I’ll omit this grade from your average, fair enough?”

That surprising concession added motivation. The next test was quite different than any of the previous tests. There were only three problems, but the problems involved equations that took up more than a page each with the requirement of not only the correct sequence of reactions but also the suitable catalysts to produce the ultimate product in the end.

It was a conceptual framework rather than a regurgitation of formulae as had been the case before. A light went on in Dirk’s head from the beginning with him breezing through the test to finish before anyone else. He got a 100 percent with the next closest score 72 percent and the class average 39 percent.

He made an appointment to see the professor trying to understand the departure from the professor's previous format.

“I gave that type of test,” he conceded, “because I could see where you panicked. Then I wondered if my students were getting a grasp of organic chemistry as it applied to the real world of industry. Your performance on the previous test suggested I had my work cut out for me. How do you explain your turnaround?”

“I studied especially hard.”

“No, I don’t think that’s the reason.”

“Then I don’t know.”

“There is a lot to remember in an organic chemistry course and both the professor and student have only limited time. Straight memory was difficult for me as a student. I think it is for you as well.” Dirk nodded but had no idea where this was going.

“That is because we have to see the relationship of the equations to the process. We find with straight memory it is difficult to recall the connection of isolated equations, am I right?” Dirk nodded again out of politeness, but not conviction. Sensing this, the professor added, “There is something I want you to take forward in your life.”

“What is that?”

“Conceptual thinking is the building blocks to understanding of anything, and fundamental to thinking in chemistry." He laughed. "A long time ago when I was a student a professor had this kind of discussion with me. It made sense to me then. I hope it makes sense to you now. It is probably why you have a good memory."


Surprise cross Dirk's face. "You showed off some on this test." This caused Dirk to squirm. "I'm speaking of the listing of alternative catalysts and their concomitant diversions from the desired product. That little conceit reflected your exhilaration, as if to say, 'I get it!' I smiled when I saw it."

The professor continued. "The test you failed didn't show this premise." He studied Dirk. "Why do you think that test threw you off? Do you know?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want to share that with me?”

“Not really. It’s so stupid. When I get upset my mind seems to leave me. If you want to know the truth, I was surprised with my 52 because I finished the test in a fog. I thought I had gotten a zero.”

* * *

Dirk thanked his professor and then went back to his dormitory room. He sat there and thought about what the professor had said. He wondered if it were true. Then he remembered something that had happened in high school.

In a class in advanced mathematics covering analytical and solid geometry and spherical trigonometry, his math teacher, whom he thought was the best teacher he ever had, gave the class a national test at midterm of the first semester of that year. His teacher had such a gift at explaining mathematical concepts that Dirk looked forward to each session.

When the results came back, the math teacher congratulated the students on how well they had done finding the majority in the class of only twelve students far exceeded the national average. Dirk, however, did poorly on the test, and was thoroughly flummoxed.

He went to see his math teacher who assured him that the test would not be averaged into his grade. “I wanted to see how we stacked up with advanced students across the country,” the math teacher said, “and I was generally pleased with the results.” This burned into Dirk’s psyche as if he were branded, which he thought he had been.

“What happened, Dirk?”

“The only thing I can say is that I was premed for the test but after I got to the third or fourth problem my mind went blank. I didn’t even finished.”

“I noticed that.” Dirk just sat there still as a mouse. “Don’t worry about it.”

As he left the room, he repeated to himself, don’t worry about it! Easy for him to say. He couldn't wait for football practice where he could hit somebody. He wondered, am I a learner or a knower, a pretender or for real? I thought I was learning mathematics. Was I kidding myself?

* * *

Towards the end of that year Dirk’s math class had another national test. Dirk finished in the 97 percentile, tied with the highest score in the class. He felt good about himself and shared it with his best friend who was also in the class.

His friend said, “You should have done well.”

“Why?”

“It was the same test we took last semester.”

“It was?”

“You didn’t recognize it?”

“No.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I mean it. I didn’t recognize the test.”

“Okay, okay.”

* * *

Dirk went back to his math teacher who was beaming as he approached. “How do you feel about yourself now?”

Incredulously, Dirk said, “Did you give us the same test again?”

“As a matter-of-fact, I did.”

“Why?”

“Well, I could say it was an accident, but it wasn’t. I did it because I wanted to see what you would do with a second chance.”

“You did it for me?”

“No, not only for you, but you have done the best of the lot. You set the curve, young man. What did you learn from this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I've had you as a student for two years. I think it tells us something about you.”

“What is that?”

“You’re extremely intense, extremely serious. I’ve never once seen you relaxed or joking around in or out of class. I know you’re an athlete. I also know you hate that tag.”

“How do you know that?”

“Believe me it shows. You want others to respect you not only for playing with some kind of a ball but as a student, as a scholar.”

“That shows, too?”

“Oh, yes. You want to be taken seriously and have strong opinions. This can be frightening to some. They see your strenghts and not your weaknesses, making matters worse, they exaggerate your strengths.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh, I imagine it’s a matter of power. You’re a tall good-looking boy, a good athlete, active in extra curricular activities, honor student, and seem to have everything. Others notice that. It can be quite intimidating creating envy, jealousy and even fear. When people fear you, watch out.”

“But why? I don't see myself that way.”

“Because they don’t see the weaknesses in you that I do, because they only see your strengths and your advantages.”

“Well, I don’t plan on changing.”

“That is obvious, but because of this and your intensity I’m afraid you’re going to walk into walls. Most of us compare and compete with others, and you simply won’t, worse yet, you won’t apologize for not. It makes you look arrogant as well as confident.”

“But I’m not that confident, and I don't see myself as arrogant.”

“Others would differ with you on that. They take a bead on others as to how they measure up, but you don't. You only compete with yourself. You demonstrated that last fall after doing poorly on the national test. You were the only one that came to me for an explanation, not in false humility, but to find out what was wrong and to correct it. Some others did poorly. Not one of them had the contretemps to come and discuss the problem with me, but you did. You are your own laboratory. That is unique.”

“But is it right?”

“It is not a question of being right or not, but it’s you.”

“What advice do you give me?”

“I’m not like you, Dirk, but I do admire your integrity. I will tell you this despite the difficulties I think you will encounter, go for it! We need more people like you and less people like the rest of us. You’re the genuine article. I suspect that will be your cross as well as your blessing.”

“Because I’m not going to change, is that it?”

Dirk’s math teacher didn’t answer. He put his papers in his briefcase signaling the session was over.

* * *
A person has the life that he has mainly because of his mentors along the way. These people introduce him to him or herself. They are especially effective when they don’t try to change the individual but attempt instead to identify the person to his or her uniqueness and then to harness it in some way.

There are also people in positions of authority because of their own failures or stymied careers that might attempt to suppress this uniqueness, and so the person must be always alert to such possibility. By a peculiar accident of being, we are likely to only appreciate our true gifts when pointed out to us by others. How sad it is when this never happens.

Remember this. If the central thrust of your life is feeding off the accomplishments of others, you will never be better than a poor imitation of them. Psychiatrists Willard and Marguerite Beecher state it this way in “Beyond Success and Failure: Ways to Self-Reliance and Maturity” (1966):

“Competition enslaves and degrades the mind. It is on of the most prevalent and certainly the most destructive of all the many forms of psychological dependence. Eventually, if not overcome, it produces a dull, imitative, insensitive, mediocre, burned-out, stereotyped individual who is devoid of originality and spontaneity. He is humanly dead. Competition produces zombies! Nonentities!” (p. 56)

On the other hand, if someone recognizes your uniqueness, or you help someone else recognize their uniqueness and you breathe life into that uniqueness, you will climb with them to unimagined heights. We are teachers as well as students, and always students in our quest for self-realization.

The air is not rarefied at the top of the mountain nor is the individual at such a height separated from the squalor below. But rather, it is a vantage point to see more clearly what is wrong in the valley below with an urge to do something about it.

Whatever you are, whatever you have accomplished, if you’re talking to me, please look me in the eye. Don’t mount a ladder and peer down on me as if I were a malfunctioning machine that needed repair. Don’t wear your kudos or awards like medals on your person, but let me sense your essence from the insight I gain from my connection with you.

* * *

The greatest reward in life is to help others help themselves, to help them to realize and harness their unique gifts. It is the purpose of these missives on this website (www.fisherofideas.com) to encourage that process.

In no way is this an attempt to have others follow in my footsteps. That said the greatest opportunity to self-realization is to compare and compete only with oneself irrespective of anyone else. Unfortunately, the greatest difficulty in this regard is temptation to measure oneself in terms of others and what others have accomplished. This is a predictor of remorse and self-defeat as the irony of life is you can never be better than a poor imitation of someone else no matter what you have achieved as measured by what they have realized.

Your lot in life is to find out what makes you tick, what gets you to rise off your bottom and to do something, to be someone, to have some purpose, to effectively utilize your inherent ability.

* * *

One reason we don’t know the outcome of children that are three, four and five-years-of-age today is not autism, per se, but rather the nurturing aspect of development is problematic. What has made this so is divorce, lifestyle excesses of adults, one parent or no parent families with children in foster homes or with grandparents or other relatives. Even a child can sense he or she is a burden. The most affluent society on earth has left its children largely in the lurch. Added to this complexity is that most parents have failed to cross that mantle into mature adulthood. My sense is that children, despite the statistics to the contrary, are not victims of raging autism but rather lifestyle diseases of their parents.

Given this predicament, many dysfunctional marriages have children to hold the marriage together, and implode the marriage instead. You cannot correct a lifestyle disease with such an intervention. In a compare and compete society, the most important job of breadwinners is believed to be that of making a good living with it assumed that nurturing of children is a given and will materialize as if by osmosis in the lap of affluence. Not so. When parents are on the ever-increasing spiral of economic progression, never satisfied with the status quo, acquiring more and more things, something has to suffer, and it is usually time and attention to the needs of the children.

Adding to this turmoil is that of a marriage where one parent compares and competes with the other parent, finding ways to nullify his or her gain or advantage, even sabotaging the mate’s effort to the confusion of the children who are witness to the drama. The obstacles to self-realization are these and every reader knows someone engaged with them at the moment. I hope it is not the reader.

* * *