Tuesday, August 12, 2014

But Doctor, I am Pagliacci- A tribute to Robin Williams


A man goes to a doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. The Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." The man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor...I am Pagliacci.”

There’s some sad things known to man, there ain’t too much sadder than, the tears of a clown.
Smokey Robinson

The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long
Lao Tzu


One of the great feel good moments for me as a kid was watching Happy Days.  Although I was never around for the 50’s, the show captured a kind of nostalgia for a time and place that I was always kind of fascinated by. I remember “Mork’s” first appearance quite well. It was the first time I met Robin Williams. I was intrigued.

Later me and my brothers and sister would totally get into ‘Mork and Mindy.’ You knew you were seeing something  unique when you watched Robin Williams. Even as a young kid watching this, I had an intuitive sense that a star was born. He had it. He had that thing.  I loved him as Mork, laughed a lot at his standup over the years, and cried a manly tear at ‘O Captain my Captain’ in Dead Poet’s Society. Later I felt a sense of pride watching him create one of the only great depictions of a psychologist in 'Good Will Hunting.’ Someone finally got it right.

Cut to a LONG time later, and I found my myself with a unique niche in the world. I was someone people wanted to talk to about the intersection of comedy, tragedy, and psychology. How it all happened doesn’t matter. The point is it’s a subject I know something about because I’ve lived it. I know a lot of the reasons people use humor. Most of them are good, some of them are bad, and a lot of them are to push something else way. Humor often pushes something else away. It’s a defense. A very sophisticated one.

In thinking about how Robin Williams lost his hope, it is this thought that lingers in my mind. Where does the comedian go when it’s HIS turn to feel understood? It’s a complicated question. Much of humor, the best kind of humor, taps into a uniquely shared sense of perspective that makes people think about the world in a new way. The best kinds of humor leads us to a deeper understanding about the world, ourselves, and our shared absurdity.. The most enduring comedians tap into this. Robin Williams tapped into this.

And yet there was something more to him as well.  When he chose to do something serious we were completely captivated. Watching ‘Good Will Hunting’ you knew he was the kind of person that knew about the light AND the dark. You don’t turn in that kind of performance without knowing about what it’s like to feel real pain. It’s what made him so interesting. Sure he could be manic and crazy, but he could also be introspective and vulnerable. There were a lot of emotions rattling around inside that man.

And yet in the end, it wasn’t enough. Those who have experienced mania know there is an equal and opposite side of the coin called depression, and there’s not a much lower place a person can go. What goes up must come down. Robin Williams knew this. He was with his old friend John Belushi on his last day on earth. He knew about using drugs and alcohol to try and beat back the emptiness. Knew it was a temporary fix that in the end just made the echo chamber a little more vast and empty. He did it anyway, as many people who struggle with addictions do.



And in the end he lost his way. Does it detract from all the laughter he brought to the world? Somehow subtract from the aggregate boost in human happiness his comedy brought to this mortal coil? No. No it doesn’t.  It just reminds us that all of us are human, and at our most vulnerable moments, we all want a lot of the same things, despite any appearances of money, fame, or whatever. We all want to be understood. Some of us


don’t make it easy for others. A lot of comedians fall in this group. Where does Pagliacci go when HE needs a boost?


Hug a funny person in your life today.


They may be fighting a battle you know nothing about…

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Lost (My own kind of paradise)


Lost

Mind on a permanent vacation
The ocean is my only medication
Wishing my condition ain't ever gonna go away

Cause now I'm knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze blowing wind through my hair
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky

Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise 
Zac Brown band- Knee Deep   

Not until we are lost do we truly begin to find ourselves
Henry David Thoreau

There's always a choice brother
Desmond- Lost



Writing this from the beach in New Zealand.  It sounds nice I know. And it is! When I send people pictures or post them online, I often get remarks like, ‘that looks like paradise' or some variation on that theme. And in a way, it is. From the perspective of physical beauty it’s really hard to find places like this, and this entire country is full of them.




But.. There’s always a but. (I like big buts and I cannot lie)



There’s a thing about living in paradise that nobody tells you. I speak from some experience here having worked in five national parks as a young man in some of the most beautiful places in my own country. And this secret?


You get used to living in paradise after a while. The oceans become less spectacular, the mountains a little less majestic, and the trees a little more mundane. It’s happened to me over and over again in my life. I fall in love with a place, live there for a while, then get adjusted to it. Eventually I leave and go somewhere else.


Then I spend a lot of time dying to go back...



Before you think I’m crazy, I can assure you there is actually a term for such a process called the 'hedonic treadmill'. It describes how people have a kind of set point when it comes to happiness, and how most of us regress back to this set point eventually regardless of a change in place or circumstance. It’s interesting stuff.





In thinking about this idea, I found myself reflecting on the characters from the TV show “Lost” who also woke up to find themselves in paradise. The problem is they couldn’t wait to get out of there, and I think the show highlights a powerful kind of lesson. Damaged people in paradise are still damaged people, and waking up in a new place does little to the deeper circuitry of our wiring. We still are who we are, and although a change in geography can certainly be a wonderful and transformational thing, we are who we are.


Thinking about this as it relates to my own life has been important. Two months here and I’m still at the beach every day, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Little irritations have begun to creep back though as the newness of this world begins to wear off a little. I honk in traffic, get irritated by long lines, and snap at people on the phone sometimes. I forget my newfound sense of awareness and lose my way. Soon enough I'm back spinning on that treadmill like most of us do.



And yet in these moments, I TRY and remember there is an antidote to this problem. Mindfulness. To be aware of life as it’s happening and stay in the moment. Being in a beautiful place is very helpful in this regard. It reminds us that we’re not so important. That there are powerful and mystical places in the world where our litany of silly complaints mean very little. That’s where living in paradise can be nice. It’s a constant reminder to slow down, take stock, and center yourself into the moment. It’s why most people have such powerful moments of awareness and comprehension when they travel.


So for me, I am once again reminded that most of the power to live a happy life is my own, and that I can slip backwards into indulging life’s little irritations, or I can stop and smell the ocean. The battle never ends, regardless of where you are on the map.


Now if you’ll pardon me I’m going to stop whining, slow down, pour another glass of wine and contemplate the ocean.




Nice to be off the treadmill for a while...
   

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Follow your bliss

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”   
-Joseph Campbell

Some day you will find me,
caught beneath the landslide
In a Champagne Supernova in the sky
-Oasis




It occurred to me recently that I’ve been writing these little essays for a number of years now. Sometimes they’re about travel, or holidays, and sometimes they are just about drinking beer or something. Oddly, others start with some fixation on a song I’ve heard, and how the meaning of this has clarified itself to me later.


This is one of those essays.


The year was 2005 and I was working as a waiter on Mackinac Island. I had just finished up a Master’s Degree in Psychology, but was a long way from doing anything productive. I decided to return to my roots, and go back to the national parks and work for the summer. It was something I’d done quite a bit of in my twenties with great success and, although I was in now in my 30’s, I wanted to try and recapture the magic.


It never really happened.


Oh I still had a fun summer, but it wasn’t quite the same. I wondered if I was just too old, or that perhaps I was just chasing something from my past that I could never reclaim. It was kind of a sad feeling actually.


But all hope was not lost.


That summer I became oddly fascinated by the song “Chamapagne Supernova” by Oasis. A lot of the musicians around town played it as part of their sets, and somehow the lyrics of the song became strangely intertwined with how I was feeling. It conveyed a kind of longing to me. A man in search of a champagne supernova. It sounded so mysterious and interesting. Perhaps the singer was simply hopped up on psychedelics, but in any case, it stuck with me. I wanted to find MY version of this again someday, and strangely I knew I would. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when, but I instinctively knew that the feeling wasn’t gone. It was just lying dormant for a while, and one day I would find it again.


So on to the following your bliss part. As many know, I’m a huge Joseph Campbell fan, and readily subscribe to the idea of “following your bliss.” Of listening to your intuition at all costs, even when it takes you in radical directions sometimes. I somehow ended up in New Zealand with this philosophy, despite a firmly established career as a psychologist and professor. It doesn’t get much more radical then that.


And yet, two weeks into my stay in my new country, that old feeling of longing started to creep back again. Was I missing something? Were my best days simply behind me? What was I doing wrong? Why wasn’t I “feeling” very different, despite a radical shift in geography? I reminded myself to be patient. These things take time, and the universe answers these kinds of questions at odd times and in strange ways.



But today I finally got it. The past recaptured. That crazy, radical, energy of exploration and discovery that I had been thinking about and trying to recapture for so long.



My champagne supernova…



It’s hard to define these things exactly with words, but it’s just kind of that FEELING when you truly discover a new world for the first time. There’s nothing else like it really. It’s why people love to travel I guess. It’s more than that though. It’s a feeling that you are somehow being guided by something, and that the fates have aligned to put you EXACTLY in this place at this time to understand it. It’s a moment of pure mindfulness, and it is a tantalizing fleeting.



You know it when you feel it though..


I hope someone reads this and understands. I hope even one person reads this and decides to take some kind of risk with their life. I’ve been struggling with leaving all of my patients behind, but ultimately I hope they will take my life as more of an example than my words. We find these moments by DOING something. Through action. Through risk. Through daring to venture out of our comfort zones.


Although the hourglass has been flipped, you’re not too old, you’re not too fat, and you’re not too broke. You can find a way if you want something bad enough.



You still have time…





You still have time…

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Say Hello and Wave Goodbye


“I think if I've learned anything about friendship, it's to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don't walk away, don't be distracted, don't be too busy or tired, don't take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.
Jon Katz


"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Mark Twain


Getting ready and making my final preparations to leave America and head to New Zealand. It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’ve been quite busy packing, repacking, sitting on suitcases to make them close, and worrying way too much about what I might be forgetting. I need to get over it.


Pretty sure they have toilet brushes over there. I probably don’t need to bring that.


It’s occurred to me that what’s infinitely more important is to remember to take some time to say goodbye to the people in my life. It’s amazing how quickly these things move to the back burner if you let them, and I’m pretty good at letting them.



While reflecting on this idea, I’ve picked up an earworm. I keep listening to the song “Say Hello and Wave Goodbye” by David Gray. It’s my experience that songs get stuck in our heads for a reason, and this one isn’t hard to figure out. Say hello and wave goodbye. Meaning for me at least, where did the time go with all these people in my life? Time is such a funny thing. Sometimes an individual day, or even an individual HOUR can feel like they last an eternity. Yet years can slip away. Even decades…



I’ve kept these feelings at bay by staying busy. Really busy. I’ve also been using beer. And yet they continue to creep back. Leaving America is saying goodbye to so many things. Goodbye baseball, the 4th of July, and the red white and blue. Goodbye to all the patients, friends, family, and familiarity that provide a sense of security that can’t be completely quantified. It’s a lot to give up, and a number of people have asked me why I would even want to.



In answering this question, I found myself thinking about a scene from the movie “Rounders.” In this particular scene, the lead character has broken even playing poker and started to walk away from the game. He says, “You can’t lose what you don’t put in the middle.”



Then he pauses, and thinks,




“But you sure can’t win very much either.”



That’s what risk is all about. Sure you can lose something; Safety, security, money, a feeling of comfort. If there was nothing at stake it wouldn't scare us. And if we never do anything that scares us?



We sure can’t win very much…



So as I wind down my last days in America, I remember to appreciate all of the things I love, including the people who all contributed so much to all these different chapters of my life. You will be missed. A lot. But for me it’s time to turn the page. You get one chance at this, and I don’t want to have any regrets.



It’s time to play another hand.




So hello again to everyone I've been catching up with over the last month or so. It's been wonderful seeing you again and remembering all the good times.


And goodbye..



Until we meet again..