Emerson, Session 1, Part 2: A Practical Faith

This recognition is not insulting, instead, it reveals a greater agency—that we participate in something infinite, something beyond the tedious ramblings of our mind.

Emerson, Session 1: Ordinary Moments: Lessons from The Over-Soul

In a 1935 issue of the magazine Vanity Fair, this was published:

And so the doctor groaned and cursed as he awoke to the persistent ringing of the telephone beside his bed. He looked at his watch and noted that it was three a.m., before he picked up the receiver. “What fresh hell is this, George?” said Dr. Bonnard to the night clerk.

To our ego, we are the victims of fresh hell most days.

Consider these “large” problems: “I feel unfulfilled at work.” “I’m not tall enough to be successful.” “My spouse doesn’t appreciate me.” Or, if you were Leonard Read, you might have asked, “How can I grow the Foundation for Economic Education so that more people will consider my freedom philosophy?”

Or consider these “small” problems: “Why didn’t the service person show up when promised?” “The traffic is terrible.” “No matter how many times I show them, my partner doesn’t load the dishwasher correctly.” “It’s time for a new car.” “Why don’t I ever get to go on vacation?”

If we don’t question our interpretation of the problem, we will continually bring our analytical mind to bear on it. That thinking will only get us so far.

Have you ever noticed that no matter how many problems you solve, a new one always pops up to take its place? If recently you have been thinking about any variation of the issues mentioned above, notice how quickly you defend your interpretation of the issue. Yet, if you watch your thinking, you can notice that the more your interpretation of the problem plays in your head, the more you suffer.

We can so vigorously defend our interpretation of the problem that dealing with it becomes a big part of our ego identity —what Ann Linthorst calls our MeNess. MeNess is the real problem, as Ann Linthorst succinctly explains in this quotation I have shared before:

Me-ness is a mental sense, a state of claiming identity with certain mental contents and the forms which that mental content takes ...ME-sense, then, tries to make things not go against ME, tries to make other people confirm and support and gratify ME, so that ME won’t suffer ... Because ME is the sufferer, and the more room we give ME to operate in, the greater the suffering.

If you become a careful observer of your MeNess, you might notice that your thinking tells you how to feel. “I can’t stand this anymore.” “The pressure is too great.” “Who did they think they’re talking to?” Notice that when anxiety or anger builds, we do not attribute the anxiety or anger to the thoughts we’re having. Instead, we use our anger and anxiety to confirm our interpretation of the problem.

We may play imaginary scenarios in our heads. We imagine future situations we want to avoid. To resolve a problem to our satisfaction, we imagine conversations we will have with colleagues or family members. We may even find ourselves looking toward our problem to make sure it is still there, standing as a pillar of our identity.

We can all smile as we look at our laundry list of problems. Smile at what? We can see that nowhere on our list of problems do we itemize this problem: Our mind clings to its interpretation of the problem, and that interpretation may not be accurate. Emerson would say that we don’t understand our problem, and that is the mother of all problems.

Our ego has few answers to life’s “problems;” it leaves us feeling like a victim. We assume that with enough effort, we can control life, but what if that assumption is wrong? In “The Over-Soul,” Emerson explains we are not the first cause:

When I watch that flowing river, which, out of regions I see not, pours for a season its streams into me, I see that I am a pensioner; not a cause, but a surprised spectator of this ethereal water; that I desire and look up, and put myself in the attitude of reception, but from some alien energy the visions come.

We experience ourselves as autonomous actors. Yet Emerson acknowledges, “I am constrained every moment to acknowledge a higher origin for events than the will I call mine”. At this point, you might recall our work on David Hume and free will.

This recognition is not insulting and does not diminish a person’s agency; instead, it reveals a greater agency—that we participate in something infinite, something beyond the tedious ramblings of our mind.