WE’RE THE CONTROL, ALL ELSE ARE VARIABLES…
0200 by Jeff Hess
In experimental science, you have controls and you have variables. The control is that which doesn’t change, remains constant. The variables, well, vary. Ideally you want to have as few variable as possible so that you can identify what is making the difference in what we are observing. In the experiment that is our life, we are the control. We are the constant.
All the other people in our lives, all the events, are the variables. If we suffer, using James Hollis’ term, we can choose to change ourselves or continue to suffer. There are no other options.
In the eleventh desideratum—See the Old-Self-Destructive Patterns—of his Living An Examined Life Hollis begins:
Don’t you have to ask from time to time, “Why does my life keep working out this way?” or “Why are my relationships always ending?” or “Why don’t I feel good about my life when I am trying so hard?” If a person hasn’t asked these or similar questions, then they remain blissfully unconscious and my deserve what keeps happening. Jung once observed the only unforgivable sin is to choose to remain unconscious.
When we finally admit the obvious to ourselves, namely, that we are the only consistent player in that long-running soap opera we call our life, we begin to become conscious and possibly accountable. One of the best ways to get a sense of what is happening to us, through us, what is occurring in the unconscious, it to identify our patterns. We don’t rise every day expecting that we will do the same dumb things, the same self-destructive things we have been doing for a long time, but chances are if we are still conscious at all at the end of the day, we will have done precisely that, repeated self-destructive patterns. But why? p. 57
The great masses—in which I include myself—enjoy blissful unconsciousness, whether in a videogame, a bingeworthy television series, or our abused substance of choice. But this is what Hollis rails about; that the unexamined life is a poor life. He answers that last question with:
…we become servants to, even prisoners of, our maps, our instructions, our marching orders. p. 58
We think we know what’s going on, but we don’t and we never will because the moment we think we understand the present moment, the moment becomes the past and the world changes. Yet, we have to make choices, even when we choose to not choose. Hollis continues:
…without “choosing,” we choose, as we all tend to choose on any given day. We choose the safer path, the lesser journey, until finally our psyche registers its autonomous dismay and weighs in with its perspective. In doing “the right thing,” we do the wrong thing. We choose the strongly ingrained, we follow the paradigms, we stick to the known, even when the known leads only to ennui, boredom, depression, anesthetizing treatments or chronic divertissement. p. 59
We fear that the suffering we might select will be worse that the suffering we know. Known suffering is still suffering, however. That doesn’t mean we only have a choice between two evils. Hollis, and Jung, argue that suffering in of itself is constant, but the source of the suffering is important.
Jung observed that a neurosis is always found in the flight from authentic suffering . Naturally, no one wants to suffer, but Jung’s observation suggests that there is a distinction between authentic and inauthentic suffering. p. 61
Hollis details the difference elsewhere in his book, but my take away is pretty basic. Generally hard work is, well, hard. If we choose the type of work, then the suffering, the hard work, results in some outcome that we desire. Simply put, no pain, no gain. Hollis concludes:
Recognizing the patterns, especially the self-destructive patterns, is the first step. Then comes taking them on, for the rest of one’s life. Taking them on requires risk, courage, perseverance and showing up more days than not. Some days the possibility of a larger life wins; other days the ghosts win. One has to know that every day is a war between the constrictive colloquies of history and the invitation to the high seas of the soul. But such a venture is what our life is about, what real adulthood is about, and what the journey of the soul demands. p. 62
Journeys are never ended, we only stop to rest a bit before continuing on. At some point, of course, we end, but that is end we can never judge because, we’re ended.
And so it goes.




















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