Rumination

Our noun comes from a Latin verb meaning "to chew." In the life of the mind, rumination is chewing over some idea or problem thoroughly. And that can be a very good thing to do.

But as with nearly all good things, rumination is subject to the Double Power Principle. The power it has for good is matched by the power it has for ill. I recently read a short article about the downside that's manifested in the mental activity of going over and over and over something that's negative in your life—mulling it, stewing over it, pondering it, trying to figure it out, repeatedly sensing anew how wrong it is, and endlessly asking, "Why has this happened to me?" Here's the problem. When the situation is something you can't control or even act on productively, rumination can become a very unhealthy habit. A better approach is to act on what you can control and walk away from what you can't control. Sure, seek to understand it. But then: Drop it. Forget about it. Move along.

Sometimes, we break out of the chains of rumination best when we find other things to do, creative projects, fun activities, any alternative things to keep our minds busy. Rumination has its place. But out of place, it can turn into a destructive loop of obsessive thoughts. The good news is that our thoughts are ultimately up to us. It make take effort, but with enough work, we can keep ourselves on a healthier track.

Emergency Wisdom

A car in front of me on a major street today caught my attention. It was a white Ford Explorer tricked out with orange stripes like an emergency vehicle. And it also had round reflectors built into the tail gate. Or were they flashing lights? Above the license plate, there was a very official looking sign, where EMT or POLICE might otherwise be. It said CHAPLAIN.

I couldn't help but be jealous. If I could just have one like that but with the sign instead saying PHILOSOPHER. Can you imagine? I sure could. I'd be driving down the road and the radio would squawk. "Logic Emergency on Front Street. All Philosophers Respond." I'd hit the lights, and of course the siren, and the gas. Out of the way, everybody. Sage coming through. I'd screech up to the address and dash out of the car. City police would be holding the door open for me. I'd run up the stairs two at a time, and there it would be: a guy splayed out across his desk, with his computer flashing some sort of error message. A detective would be standing there, and he'd look up at me and say, "It's a conceptual catastrophe."

I'd say, "What have we got?"

The gumshoe would reply. "I think we need some Aristotle."

I'd look more closely and say, "No! It's too late for that! Only Kierkegaard will do!" And, with a Leap of Faith, I'd use just the right aphorism and summon the guy back to life, and conceptual clarity. A gasp would go through the room, and I'd suddenly notice all the other people huddled over at the side. They'd start cheering and clapping. Someone would run up to me and gush appreciation and words of praise for what I had just accomplished.

"No Ma'am. No need to thank me. Just another day for a hard working philosopher."

As I came out of my stoplight reverie, I realized why things don't work like this. Oddly, most people go in search of wisdom only when they confront a catastrophe, or disaster that has arisen from unwise decisions. Wanting to avoid the flames of irrational self immolation, they desperately look for insight. And they might find a piece of wisdom here or there that can save them. But philosophy is much better as a powerful preventative medicine than as last minute emergency treatment. It's better applied in small doses throughout our days and decisions. Then, we can most likely avoid cataclysmic personal disasters, at least of the existential sort.

So: Don't wait for trouble. Seek wisdom now. Remember, I don't really have the flashing lights and siren. It was just in my imagination. Then again, the chaplain in town apparently does.

Difficulty, Struggle, Hardship, and Beauty

The greater the difficulty, the greater the glory.

 Cicero

Hardly anything worth doing is easy. But that’s ok. The harder we’ve had to work for something, the more we appreciate it once it happens. The great essaist Montaigne once made a related point when he said: “The honor of the conquest is rated by the difficulty.”

If you’re working toward a noble goal, something truly worth your time and effort, then don’t let it get you down when the process of realizing your dream takes a lot more time and work than you had imagined. Think about the sense of satisfaction that ultimately awaits you. And hang in there now. Satisfying success will justify your struggle.

"But what if I don't succeed after all the struggle?"

I'd be disappointed if you didn't ask. And yet, the answer is simple. If you succeed through struggle, you can grow. If you fail through struggle, you can grow. To grow is not to fail, but to succeed in one of our most important tasks in this life. So, if you struggle well, you can't completely fail. One way or the other, you succeed by growing.

Let me quote Elizabeth Kubler Ross:

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people don't just happen.

Difficulty, struggle, and hardship can create beauty, if we let it - beautiful results, beautiful growth, and a beautiful strength within. So, when you struggle, struggle with your head up, and your hope afloat. Something good can happen from this. Beauty can result.

The Treasure Within Trials

The gem cannot be polished without friction,

nor man perfected without trials.

Confucius

Life is sometimes a strange proposition. The things we enjoy the least are often the very things that we benefit from the most. Suffering can deepen us. Difficulties can help us grow.

The philosophical individual doesn’t go looking for trouble, but has this consolation when it comes knocking. Wisdom is never to be found except through the door of experience, and it tends to greet us most often after trouble. So take this attitude toward any trial:  It can be a friend in disguise. Ask yourself “What can I learn from this?” And don’t let any difficulty or temporary defeat stop your pilgrimage toward what really matters.