Butterflying

In the 'Further Reading' section of Meditations for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman "unequivocally" endorsed reading James P. Hollis. So I did. I read Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life.

The book's message is clear. Every chapter inculcates: As long as we bend to fit the desires of our parents, our friends, our culture, our egos, we will suffer a life devoid of meaning. To discover meaning, listen for your soul's calling, and act accordingly – Jung's idea of individuation.

Woo woo to you, apposite advice to me.

Most of the self-help I've imbibed emphasizes the quantitative over the qualitative: Breathing, Journaling, Affirmations, Eliminations, Really Hot Air, Really Cold Water. All of these trackable tasks construct a database of deluded self-transcendence. But, Hollis reminds us that implicit in this list of actions is a belief in a contract that does not exist. He writes [emphasis mine]:

There are many modern versions of this presumptive contract we have with the universe. For some, the presumption begins in a compliant interaction with parents, and later their surrogates in social institutions, who have explicitly imposed a code that promises reward when one behaves according to the rules... For others, it appears in the assumption that if one acts with goodwill, always, one will be met by goodwill, always. For others, the presumption takes form in the expectation that right practices, right spirituality, right diet, right analysis will spare one from cancer. Yet, sooner or later, life brings each of us not only disappointment, but something worse, a deep disillusionment regarding the “contract” that we tacitly presumed and served to the best of our ability. Who does not occasionally feel betrayed by the universe, though it is hard to identify a source of the “betrayal”? Who has not felt disoriented, when the plan which they presumed was in place, the map of reality, the directions on how to live, the expectations of productive outcomes—all seemed abrogated? As deep as the suffering may prove in our outer world, this other, spiritual suffering, this loss of one’s fundamental understanding of the world and how it works shakes the foundations of beliefs even more.

So yes, as the self-help gurus extoll, we should maintain healthy diets and work out routines, we should make our good habits unbreakable, but on their own, these means do not facilitate soul-satisfying ends.

I will admit, Hollis serves generous portions of Jungian jargon throughout the book, much of which I got the gist of, yet likely missed many more nuanced points. But, overall, I view his guidance as targeting the interoceptive gut than intellectual mind–it is precisely when we feel uncomfortable, feel lost and in unfamiliar terrain, feel intimidated by the fog of uncertainty that the world offers us opportunities to move toward enlargement/wholeness/whatever spiritually-tinged language you prefer that describes an overarching life-narrative of meaning. Present-tense moments of suffering yield to future-tense feelings of satisfaction for having discovered meaningfulness.

Note: While writing this post, the voice in my head told me, "You sound no different than the recently converted proselyte who tries to convince the world of his religious metamorphosis when really he wants to convince himself he's found 'Belief'. The real lesson of this book should be to take the soul-stirring questions it asks of you, and go about trying to quietly answer them day after day."
That voice is probably correct.

But I also had a voice that said, just write about it.