From patterns to conceptions

My patterns—my emotional, behavioral, and thought patterns—express my attitude to myself and to others, my way of interpreting life and understanding it. My patterns express, in other words, my conception of the world. This conception is part of what defines the boundaries of my world, or more accurately my perimeter. And my perimeter is what I, as a philosophical counselor, aim to transcend.

More specifically, we are constantly interpreting ourselves and our world, not just in our thoughts but mainly through our emotions and behaviors. For example, when I feel ashamed of something I did, this feeling is like the statement: ‘This kind of action is dishonorable.’ Or, if I am anxious about failing whenever I face a task, then this anxiety probably says (among other things): ‘Success is very important in life.’ And if I constantly try to control my wife or husband, then this behavior may express the idea: ‘Loving means possessing.’

In this sense, through our everyday attitudes we express our conception of life, often without being aware of it. Our attitude to our friends expresses our understanding of the meaning of friendship. Our behavior in a neighbors’ dispute speaks of our conception of justice. Our everyday choices and fears and hopes and responses address the basic issues of life.

Thus we are all philosophers, though not always good or deep ones. But most of our philosophical ‘theories’ are something we live in everyday life, not something we think about. They are our ‘lived conceptions’.

Lived conceptions have an important role. We cannot live in our world without interpreting it. But often they are also our prison, because they give us a one-sided, rigid, superficial perspective of life. They limit the vast horizons of human existence to a narrow interpretation, to a constricted range of possibilities. This is our perimeter —the world as defined by our patterns and conceptions.

In philosophical practice

If the goal of philosophical practice is to transcend the walls of our narrow perimeter, then the first step should be exploring these walls. It is easier to transcend what you see and understand. This is why we usually start the process of philosophical practice by exploring the person’s perimeter—our patterns, the conceptions expressed in those patterns, and the powers that animate them.

In the philosophical companionship, the companions share their personal experiences and observations in order to investigate them together. The group is not concerned with opinions or abstract theories, but mainly with lived conceptions. At the same time, its purpose is not to analyze individual members, but rather to listen together to the variety of voices of life. By examining personal life-experiences they seek to understand the languages that life speaks in us, the conceptions which it expresses.

Example

Daniel is a member of a philosophical companionship group, which meets once a week. In the meetings he is very active and helpful. His thoughtful comments help his companions examine themselves, and his empathic attitude encourages them to open themselves and recount their private experiences.

In their fifth meeting Irena tells him, “You know, Daniel, you have encouraged everybody to speak about themselves. But we still don’t know anything about you.”

Daniel smiles. “Well, does this make you feel uncomfortable?”

And the conversation now turns to Irena’s feelings.

Roger interrupts. “You’ve just done it again, Daniel! You have changed the topic and avoided talking about yourself.”

“Oh, did I?” Daniel asks surprised. He thinks a little, and then realizes that Irena and Roger are right. “Yes, thanks for pointing this out. I definitely avoid exposing myself. An interesting pattern, isn’t it? Maybe it’s some kind of defense mechanism…”

“Remember,” Bruce interrupts him, “we are not doing psychology here. We are doing philosophical practice. The question is what your pattern says, not the psychological mechanism behind it.”

“Would you like the group to discuss this, Daniel?” Jessica asks.

Daniel frowns. “I don’t know, I don’t want to be the topic of your conversation.”

“Don’t worry, Daniel, you will not be the topic. The main topic will be self-exposure. This is, after all, a philosophical companionship, not group-counseling. We need your experiences in order to investigate together what it means to expose oneself.”

“Alright, I agree. Let’s make self-exposure the topic of this meeting.”

Daniel now tries to explain himself. “When I talk about myself and you all listen to me, I feel that I am like a baby, and you are the adults taking care of me.” He also tells them about a few related experiences.

Other companions share their own experiences of self-exposure, and through this comparison they gain insight about what these experiences say—i.e., the conceptions expressed in them.

To sharpen their observations they also discuss various theories of exposure. Sartre is mentioned (to be ashamed is to be objectified by another person’s look), as well as Nietzsche (with friends “you must not want to see everything”[1]). Thus the companionship develops a network of conceptions of self-exposure, which sheds light on their personal cases. They find out that life speaks in their lives in a variety of voices that are interrelated in complex ways.

“I’m starting to understand my attitude,” Daniel says. “I don’t like being at the center of attention. But it’s not because I am shy. It’s because I don’t like it when others do things for me, or to me. I hate being a receiver, I hate being passive. The assumption is: If I am a passive receiver, then I disappear, I am nothing. I exist only if I give, help, act.”

“An interesting philosophical conception,” Bruce says. “To exist means to act on others. To receive actions means not to exist.”

“Exactly. Maybe it’s a questionable theory from a logical point of view, but that’s who I am. And now I can see how this conception is connected to many other things in my life.”

Exercise

Read the cases of Miriam and of George in Lesson 4. Note the patterns found in Miriam’s and in George’s attitudes. What conceptions do these patterns express? (In order to answer this question you may have to add imaginary details to the two stories.)

[1]. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Book 1, section 16.

Lesson 6

ON FORCES

We often don’t realize how rigid our perimeter is and how resistant it is to change. We don’t realize, in other words, how powerful our emotional and behavioral patterns are. The reason is that we normally don’t resist them, but simply follow them automatically, as if it is the most natural thing to do. Following them requires very little effort. For example, an argumentative person doesn’t need to make any special effort to become argumentative—it comes to him naturally. Likewise, the workaholic doesn’t have to force herself to work hard—it is her spontaneous inclination.

This is especially true in the case of universal human patterns that are common to most human beings. For example, most of us act—without any special thought or effort—so as to be understood by others, to appear consistent and reasonable, to follow society’s rules of politeness, to make a good impression on our friends. Psychology textbooks are full of descriptions of such automatic patterns.

The result is that we feel as if we are free, although in truth we follow our personal or universal patterns and conceptions. In other words, we are confined to our little perimeter, but we don’t experience ourselves confined because this is where we feel natural and comfortable. Thus, when a normal person responds politely, or when an argumentative person argues, they don’t feel the walls of their prison if they have never tried to get out. Like a river that flows between two banks, they flow along a narrow path that is easy yet limited.

It is only when the river tries to climb over its banks—or when the prisoner tries to leave his prison—that they realize that they are really confined. In other words, when we try to break away from our patterns and conceptions, we find that this is extremely hard, and often impossible.

Many kinds of feelings pressure us to maintain our old familiar pattern: When I act unreasonably, for example, I feel anxious to correct or explain myself. Similarly, the shy person feels nervous when she decides to speak in public; the self-centered man feels bored in a conversation about others; the insecure woman feels embarrassed when asked to show her paintings; the smoker feels unbearable temptation when attempting to stop smoking; the suspicious man feels awkward when trying to express trust; the compulsive talker feels a tremendous urge to speak when asked to listen.

Such feelings and urges pressure us to return to our old familiar patterns and to their corresponding conceptions. And even if we overcome them once, we are likely to continue to feel the difficulty and sooner or later slide back to our usual patterns.

This means that the walls of our perimeter are real prison-walls. They act as forces that pressure us into our patterns and conceptions.

Psychologists and sociologists investigate the causes of these forces—inborn human tendencies, defense mechanisms, childhood traumas, social pressures, etc. But as philosophical practitioners we are interested in how these forces are manifested in the individual’s perimeter, not in the mechanisms behind them.

Example

Shortly after Nancy’s marriage, she discovers that she never says ‘no’ to her husband. If, for example, he suggests: “How about going to a Chinese restaurant, Nancy?” then she finds it almost impossible to refuse. After some reflection she realizes that this is also her attitude towards her parents, and towards her two best friends.

Strange, she thinks, her husband is so kind and sweet, and her parents never get angry, so why is she so afraid to say ‘no’? Besides, she is not afraid to contradict other people—the neighbors, her colleagues at work, even her boss.

After thinking about her behavioral pattern, she starts to understand the conception that stands behind it. It is as though something inside her says: “Love means total agreement.” Something inside her is afraid that disagreement would contradict her love relationships.

For several days she continues to think about this, as well as about other behaviors and emotions, and then she realizes that they all fall under one general conception: “To love means to merge. If you love somebody, the two of you become one person: one opinion, one behavior, one everything.” Now she understands why she always needs to know what her husband is doing and thinking, why she finds herself going into his office to clean it, why she is restless when he is out with his friends, and many other things.

Nancy decides to break her conception and the patterns that they create. The next day, when her husband suggests taking a walk in the park, she looks into his eyes and hesitates. She wants to say no, but his smiling face melts her decision. She feels she can’t disappoint him, that she doesn’t have the courage.

“I must try harder,” she decides when they return together from the park.

The next day, when her husband suggests going to visit their friend Tony in the evening, she manages to block her natural tendency to agree. Instead, she forces herself to reply: “No, not tonight, Kenny. Why don’t you go without me?”

Immediately anxiety fills her heart. She holds her breath, and finds herself searching his face again and again to see if he is angry or offended. For the rest of the day she is super-nice to him, trying to appease him.

At night, after he goes to Tony’s, she feels nervous. “This nervousness is stupid,” she says to herself. “Why shouldn’t I let him be by himself one evening?” But her reasoning does not calm her, and her emotions continue to speak in the language of her old conception. She can’t conquer her anxiety.

For months she struggles against her emotional and behavioral patterns. But although she becomes better at forcing herself to leave her husband alone from time to time, nevertheless it continues to be difficult. She keeps feeling the urge to merge with him, and only through conscious decision and effort can she resist it. Deep in her heart her conception of love remains unchanged.