Why Religion Exists

I have fretted over writing this blog for some time. I want to first be clear that I think most people need religion in their lives.

Humans are unique in the animal world in their ability to ponder the past as much as they want and for no particular reason that is clearly adaptive. Some have suggested that reminiscence is a way for us to correct mistakes and be reminded of what to avoid.

We can also worry about the future and generate numerous possible fates. This brain function can serve clearly beneficial goals, but often becomes a burden, especially for those with high levels of free-floating anxiety.

We need safety, like all animals. We need social connection, like all mammals and many other animals. What better solution than to invent a god? A Church? A belief system? We can conveniently be assured in our minds that we are never alone, that we will never actually die, as we  cluster and cloister with others in a tight, mutually supportive social system. It's a perfect solution, in fact. We are no more or less alone than any other animal, but we are aware of our isolation and create a great deal of anxiety becasue of this; we generate all sorts of mecahnisms to quell it.

Of course, as man first evolved, all of nature was a mystery, and in the face of the unexplained, we almost always decide that there must be some supernatural, all-knowing something calling the shots. Although this is intellectually lazy, it is emotionally natural. At every turn in our history, we have seen firmly held supernatural beliefs about our world shattered after science or simple discovery provides more concrete explanations for the phenomena in question. What is strange is that even now many cling to mystical explanations despite us having used scientific inquiry to explain most things in clear and naturalistic terms. Why? Because to give up the supernatural increases ones initial anxiety, shakes the foundation, causes change which is inherently stressful, and calls into question the entire spiritual history one has treasured and used to justify almost everything done and all that is desired.

The other issue here is the unsupported notion that morality and good behavior emanates from god. Religious people often say that without a belief in god, people would have no moral compass and would therefore travel in hellish directions. I hasten to add that most murderers and thieves believe in god, and that Buddhists are nonviolent, reverential people. I also would point out that there is nothing socially useful a religion does that cannot, and is not, done by secular entities. Another blog is coming to mind here.

It is no wonder to me why religion exists, and why it would be improbable that many would give it up. Can't we just have better social clubs that do good things for people? I suspect not. Not as long as there exists intellectual laziness, a lack of curiosity, poor educational systems, and governments composed of such people. 

The Smartest, Quickest Way to Get a (Legitimate) College Degree

So we keep hearing about how expensive a college degree has become: it has. The school I went to back in the 60s and 70s cost then about $3500 per year for tuition and fees. Now it is about ten times that amount. If you live on campus there, it's more like $52,000!

I teach at a community college, and I can tell you this is the first, best place to go to school. Not only does a 2-year school cost less, it is often geared for the busy adult. Community colleges typically offer a full range of night classes, weekend classes, and online classes. Online courses are a great way to get official credit for courses that do not require a lab section, such as in a biology course, because you get to arrange when you will do the work: there is no class period you must attend. Of course, this means you will need to be self-motivated.

Second, community colleges are not substantially different from 4-year universities in the quality of courses they offer: they are using the same texts, they require the same level of work, and so on. An exception to this might be in comparison to ultra-high end schools such as Harvard or Cal Tech, where the amount and quality of work required to perform well is higher. But my community college isn't any more or less difficult that any identical courses at any of the regional universities.

If you are interested in a health field - getting a job is your goal - then community colleges are the place to go. You can make $60,000 a year starting as a Respiratory Therapist, $40,000 as a nurse, and $40,000 as a cyber security provider. The list goes on and on. The 2-year degree is quicker and therefore more lucrative than taking courses for the extra two years at a university.

Yet another advantage is generally small class sizes. I have taught a lecture course at a large state school that had 300+ students. At my community college,my classes run less than 30 students. That's very typical. It allows you to learn in a less impersonal, more informal environment.

If you are a high school student who wants to get a jump of college courses, then community colleges are a great start. They usually have special pathways for high school students to take advantage of their system and take courses.

Always check to see which courses will directly transfer to the 4-year school you may be planning to attend later. This information is readily available to you at the 2-year school. If you get a 2-year degree, generally all the courses will transfer, at least in terms of hours and as electives.

Oh well, I've made my point. Community colleges are a great way to get your higher education needs fulfilled. A final point: don't ever take any courses from strictly online schools that are not fully accredited! You will be spending money for nothing. I look first when part of a hiring committee if the applicant is degreed from these types of schools; I suspect most other employers do the same.



 

The Folly of Giving Advice

I teach a counseling course to students of Psychology, Social Work, and a variety of other majors. One of the concepts that I emphasize is that giving advice is at best ill-advised and at worst destructive to autonomy. What people do when asked for advice is usually to freely give it, thinking they are doing a good thing. You wanted an answer didn't you? Here's what I tell them:

1.   Ask one thousand people how to hammer a nail and you might get only a few variations of "pound the nail with the round end of the hammer." But ask those same people what you should do to stop being depressed, or how to decide whether to leave a marriage, and you'll get close to one thousand different answers. That's because they are answering from the perspective of "that's what I would do if I were you." Of course, they aren't you. So anything they recommend is particularly useless, and may be the exactly wrong thing to do.

2.   What happens if they take your advice, follow it to the letter, and it doesn't work out well? Folks with damaged self-esteem will blame themselves, thinking they didn't "do it right," or that fate interceded and they have no real power. Either way, they have learned nothing. They didn't come up with the answer, so by definition they won't get the self-satisfaction. They might also blame you for screwing things up!

3.   What happens if they take your advice and it works out perfectly? They will again have learned nothing. When yet another situation arises in the future, they will again seek advice, not knowing how to think through to a solution that best suits them. They may credit you, or falsely credit themselves.

4.  I am not talking about young children here. Kiddos need advice on a host of mundane issues as they learn the basics of behavior and applying solutions to problems. But even with children, the primary goal is for us to teach them how to think and decide, not what to think and decide. As children age, they should be given ever-widening levels of choices, decision-making and freedom, based on their maturity and readiness.

5.  I am not talking about advice on mechanical, concrete things like how to build a dog house or what immunizations one should receive.

Just remember that your undivided attention, your demonstration that you care, is the gift above all others: it means you value them, that they matter, that they are worthy.  Sure you can help them explore options,  consider alternatives, estimate the consequences of this versus that path. Just avoid telling people what to do! 

Empathy Deficit Disorder -- do you suffer from it?

 

By Amanda Robb

-- I swear on the "Thelma & Louise" video we watched into a scratchy oblivion: I didn't mean to be the worst friend ever. When Lisa -- my roommate and boon companion of three years --stepped into our apartment, sank to the floor, and clutched our cocker spaniel, I asked, "What's wrong?" with sympathy.

"I got fired," Lisa told me.

"Wow." I pulled her to her feet. "You'll have an amazing story for Jim's party tonight!"

Lisa's eyes went round and wet as the dog's when we left her at the vet. She said, "Come on, Maya" (who gave me a reproachful glance before obeying), disappeared into her bedroom (for three days), and never discussed career matters with me again.

Boy, was I annoyed. At age 26, I was a sublime friend. Lisa, also 26, was blessed to have an ally so honest about dates and hairstyles, so fiercely supportive of her dreams, and willing to defend her choices (the dates, hairstyles, and dreams) to her habitually nettling mom and dad. Never once in our relationship, I was proud to think, had I ever even been tempted to commit a single mortal friendship sin: being competitive, gossiping, or backstabbing.

To me, Lisa's job loss was no big deal. She had complained about the position. Her parents were rich and gave her money. She had nothing to worry about. I thought that reminding her we had something fun to do that night was an appropriate and kind response.

Psychologist Douglas LaBier, Ph.D., director and founder of the Center for Adult Development in Washington, D.C., disagrees. He explained to me that my dearest friend was humiliated by receiving a pink slip, feared she might be incompetent at everything she tried, and, because of me, felt utterly alone. I was, LaBier tells me, "catastrophically unempathetic" to Lisa.

At the heart of many problems

Today, 15 years later, I know why my attempt at consoling my friend was so ham-fisted. As LaBier explains, virtually everyone learns the basics of empathy in childhood (from our parents comforting us when we're in distress), but my father died when I was 4, and afterward my mother had to be very can-do, juggling three jobs, graduate school, and two kids. When I was upset, she never said, "Oh, I'm sorry. It must be hard to have me away so much after losing your dad."

Instead, on good days, she'd say, "Why are you crying? Nothing is wrong." And on bad days: "You'd better toughen up because life can get a lot worse." Looking back at my 20-something self, I realize that if, as LaBier says, empathy is "the ability or the willingness to experience the world from someone else's point of view," I wasn't brought up to be able to do that.

At least my lack of empathy was not unusual. Having practiced as a psychotherapist for 35 years, LaBier believes that what he calls empathy deficit disorder (EDD) is rampant among Americans.

LaBier says we unlearn whatever empathy skills we've picked up while coming of age in a culture that focuses on acquisition and status more than cooperation and values "moving on" over thoughtful reflection. LaBier is convinced that EDD is at the heart of modernity's most common problems.

When Lisa crept into her bedroom, I couldn't have articulated any of this. She might have felt abandoned, but all I knew was that I felt alone. My roommate had her dog, and they were both shunning me, and my boyfriend of four years wouldn't rescue me from the loneliness I increasingly felt by agreeing to get married. I went into psychotherapy.

Faking it a step to becoming empathetic

I thought my therapist would help me break up with my commitment-phobic lover, figure out how to choose less sensitive friends, and, of course, let me rant about my mother's shortcomings. I did get to rant -- about my mom, Lisa, and my boyfriend.

What surprised me was my therapist's response to these tirades. She never said, "Leave that rotten bastard." Or "Your roommate is a big baby." Instead she said, "Gosh, that sounds really hard." And, "That must have felt terrible." And, "How did you feel after that happened?" My reaction to those spectacularly bland comments was even more astonishing. I loved them.

"These very simple responses make you feel understood," says New York psychologist Frank M. Lachmann, Ph.D., author of "Transforming Narcissism: Reflections on Empathy, Humor, and Expectations."

He points out that many of the common responses -- "It could be worse"; "You should do X"; "Let's talk about something else" -- appear to be kind and aimed at soothing. But no matter how well intentioned, Lachmann says, these remarks are a rejection, a denial, of what the other person is going through. "They are code for 'Don't confront me with things that are unpleasant,'" he says. "Or 'Don't bother me with your pain.'"

About six months into psychotherapy, I started using what I thought of as my therapist's "lines."

When Lisa was offered a job at an organization she did not want to work at, I said, "Oh, that's a tough spot to be in." When my boyfriend was invited to study abroad, I said, "How do you feel about that?" What I really felt was: "Lisa, that job pays a ton of money, but I guess you can turn it down because your parents are loaded." And, "You selfish bastard, I'll kill you if you go to Europe without me."

Still, Lachmann says, I had taken the first step to becoming empathetic -- which is faking it. If you want to act more empathetic, you follow certain steps: Instead of telling people what they ought to do or becoming tyrannically optimistic, you offer sympathy, inquire about feelings, and validate those feelings. You'll be giving comfort to the other person, even if you yourself can't feel what they're going through.

It's true that for a long time, while I could say the appropriate thing, I could not relate to their struggles. Still, I took satisfaction in the fact that my relationships were improving. Then a year after starting therapy, I began feeling something intensely when comforting friends: terror.

This turned out to be a signal, Lachmann says, that I was actually feeling empathy.

Final insult

I didn't recognize it because I'd always run from emotional discomfort -- and, at least in the beginning, I found trying to be empathetic profoundly uncomfortable. Most of the time, I managed to avoid the impulse to blurt out unhelpful suggestions to my friends -- "Happy hour, anyone?" Or, "Here's the number for a credit consolidator!" -- and instead say the appropriate thing. But for years and years, I could stand genuine empathy only five minutes at a time.

For those five minutes, though, I was not alone. And once I had experienced the wonder of that, I was willing to stumble out of my comfort zone to try to be not alone again.

Virtually everything I have ever tried to improve about myself -- my weight, my sleep habits, my housecleaning -- has resulted in an endless seesaw of improvement. But empathy, I've learned, is not like dieting. (Or, at least, how I diet, which involves ending up back at square one.) Cultivating empathy has its own rewards: The more you do it, the better your relationships are and the more you want to continue.

Feeling understood in that therapist's office taught me that human beings are not doomed to be alone -- and empathy is life's connective tissue. If you have a romantic partner, he or she will someday believe that you are entirely wrong about something, and if you can see the problem from your partner's point of view, you'll be able to get through that conflict without smoldering in the corner or splitting up.

If you work with someone you despise (and who despises you back), and you try to understand why that person dislikes you, then you stand a chance of not hating every minute with her at the office. If you live in a world that you would like to see less divided by ethnic, economic, and religious strife, you'll find that attempting to comprehend the needs of your sworn enemies is a prerequisite to any meaningful action you can take.

Empathy will also require you to get past rationalizations and admit wrongdoing.

For about a decade after I started working to be more empathetic, I told myself that I hadn't hurt Lisa too badly because she never told me I had. But Lachmann points out that the final insult of being treated with a lack of empathy is that the hurt person usually can't complain. "If you say, 'That was such an unempathetic thing to say,' it can easily be heard as, 'Feel sorry for me.' And no one wants to be pathetic." So most people don't say anything, Lachmann says, and relationships "are often ruptured and ruined."

Lisa and I are no longer close. We live on opposite coasts. We have very different lives. But still, I couldn't bear the idea of us being "ruptured and ruined." I recently called her and said I was sorry for being selfish when she lost her job. I said I had eventually learned that it must have been a terrible time for her and that I had made it worse by leaving her so alone with all her confusion. Lisa was gracious ("You did your best"), forgiving ("Really, you were a wonderful friend to me overall"), and honest ("It was 15 years ago, and I'm over it now"). She changed the subject, and we caught up on our summer plans.

Her family -- along with the cocker spaniel, Maya, who was still alive and giving reproachful looks -- was planning a camping trip. Packing up, Lisa realized none of her jeans fit. Her pregnancies had stripped every curve from her body. She was skinny as a post. I began to wail,

"Oh my God, you lucky rat! I gained 10 pounds ... "

But then I stopped myself. "Um. So how does it feel to have to buy new jeans?" I asked.

There was a silence on the line. Then Lisa started laughing. "Wonderful," she said. "Absolutely wonderful."

By Amanda Robb from "O, The Oprah Magazine," April 2008

 

Lessons From My Dog

Will Rogers said, "If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."
I awoke at 3 a.m. the other night, fear gripping my brow, dread crammed down my throat. Had I petted her and stroked her enough before the assistant took her from my arms? How frightened and abandoned she must feel.
My dog, a Chihuahua-dachshund round mound of lovin' pounds, recently underwent very serious surgery. I don't know how much longer I will have her in my life. This is serious stuff. I nearly lost her. Thanks to the skill of two surgeons working for hours, she will be here a while longer. She's a bit different though. The couch and bed now have shower curtains on them because, well, she leaks. And I will suffer any resulting social ostracizing to have her with me as long as possible, as long as she is not in pain.
Annie is more than a dog; she is family. She is as much a part of my daily living and daily learning as any human could be. What is she really like? Well...
She never once suggested I needed to rethink my wardrobe. When I feel bad, she applies her ever salubrious soul-saving saliva salve. She has never wavered in her commitment to be my best friend. She has heard more truth from me than any person has and has seen even more. Yes, she is fat (she has Cushings). But she is happy. Really happy. She is a very effective therapist, utilizing love implosion techniques. She can see in a single gesture what I am thinking. She knows only four emotional states: happy, sad, fearful and mad. Come to think of it, she's just like people that way. She is not my whole life, but has made my life whole.
There's a purity about dogs that is difficult to describe. If you have ever cared for a dog, you know. I say cared for, because we don't really own other living things, do we? Anyway, I think the wisdom of the dog is underrated. Let me explain. Annie has taught me some good stuff, like:

When thirsty, drink water.

When hungry, eat a snack.

When tired, sleep awhile.

A long walk can cure social deprivation and may even curb the blahs.

 If you are happy, let it out. Dance a jig.

Show family you are glad they have returned home.

Forgive quickly.

Be wary of strangers.

Greet friends with gusto.

Always be yourself.

Sleep in any position that works.

 Let others show you love.

Welcome affection at every moment.

Warn others quickly and loudly when there is danger.

Be loyal to those who treat you well.

Love can be pure, with no strings attached.

Wag your tail, not your tongue.

If someone feels bad, cuddle with them. No words are necessary./

 External appearances are irrelevant.

If you want love, show love.

It is no great mystery why dogs are man's best friends--they offer unadulterated expressions of what is good in people. I envy their loyalty, their courage, their joy.

I wrote this piece about seven years ago. Annie didn't survive much longer than the appearance of that column. I miss her, and think for her often.

Men, Gadgets, and Surfing

The biological heritage of men is that we are, and always will be, hunters. Once upon a time we served our species best when we used our superior physical speed and strength to hunt food, protect our family or clan, and exhibited these skills to make us more attractive to potential mates, which we also hunted. Now? We surf TV channels and the web with our spears.

The remote control is at its core the metaphorical spear, and surfing is being on a big hunt. We are constantly scanning the landscape, the digital horizon, for any tasty game worth killing or any female worth mating with. We pause on channels that depict these two most favorite things: fertile females and heroic violence.

Don't take away our weapons! We want to show you how protective and skillful we are at these so we want to be in charge of the spear. Gadgets are all basically stone tools and weapons that harken to a time when those meant life or death. We are that shaped by our collective unconscious. As the world shrinks in the face of population explosion and dwindling resources, this heritage will become increasingly influential.  The inhibitions that society places on our behavior will be less influential.

Why do we love sports? For the same reasons: we are visually and mentally imagining the competitions to see who will have the most food and who will mate with the fertile females.

So don't take away or devalue the few remaining symbols of what you wanted us for in the first place!

The Functions of Anger

Few would deny that anger is an unpleasant emotion. It stinks to feel it, and it feels particularly brutal when others direct it towards us. It is so undesirable that some people do everything in their power to not have it or to hear it. I know you've seen this: someone smiles even wider when they're angry, flatly denies that they're angry (even when it's obvious they are), or displaces their anger onto those they claim to love. But everything we do, feel, and think serves multiple purposes. We aren't just random assemblages of biological processes and behaviors, after all. So what are the purposes of anger?

1.   To create distance. Anger is the emotion that tells us one or more boundaries have been stepped on. Physical, emotional, spiritual, or cognitive boundaries are all monitored by us to insure safety, and when someone violates them, we get pissed. The ensuing distance allows us to evaluate the damage and decide whether and how to re approach the offending person.

2.   To energize. Ever wonder why teams, states, or nations seem to feel not just competition, but sometimes sheer hatred towards each other? Anger gives us the energy to "fight," to compete. Most all modern competitions are vestiges of biological competitions for food, shelter, and families.

3.   To be heard. Folks who have poor communications skills, or who are meek and mild (passive) may believe they need to get angry in order to get others to listen to them. It is this same group that typically doesn't enforce their boundaries well enough so that their anger builds over time, until it spills out in great volume, often at the slightest event.

4.  To get what we want at the expense of others. Some folks are just assholes who like to overpower others to get what they want. These individuals don't care about you or me. They are the aggressors of our species.

Well anger is normal; it's common. It can tell us much. But it doesn't have to hurt.