Seven Deadly Landlord Sins

I’ve been sick lately, and have tried not to push myself in the meantime. Or is it that I haven’t tried to push myself? Perhaps we should ask dtcwee, whose latest post invokes Thomas Aquinas on Gluttony to address the temptation to over-landlord:

It’s the dead of night. I get an email from the agent. It’s a problem, nothing urgent. Yet, I draft and re-draft a reply. I call them to try and work through it, and get agitated when I hit voice mail. I’m getting worked up. I can’t sleep. What if it was something I did? What will be the impact?

That’s not me being diligent. That’s me indulging.

Not in food, but in landlording; another activity that, while in moderation provides sustenance, In excess is simply imprudent.

http://dtcwee.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/landlord-sins-gluttony.html

I’m pretty impressed with this application of gluttony to the temptation to excessive diligence. It’s an excellent moral metaphor, and while I feel there ought to be something in Aquinas that addresses the question directly, trying to find something in the Summa without knowing already what it is in Thomistic terms is a recipe for frustration and a temptation to….excessive diligence.

Melancholic with Type A Personality

I’d heard of Type A and Type B personalities before, but I didn’t seem to fit into either category. Type A are supposedly harder-working, competitive, ambitious, organised, intense, hostile, and stressful. Type B are laid-back, relaxed, disorganised, friendly, and so on.

The problem with a lot of these descriptions is that they seem to be dealing with Type A personalities of a Choleric temperament. But in the pursuit of a cure for my auto-immune condition, I’ve come across more general descriptions of Type A which suggest that a person could be Type A regardless of their temperament.

I don’t think I’d ever be mistaken for being an over-achiever, but that’s because most people think of specific, socially esteemed and easily recognisable achievements like winning sporting competitions, getting promotions at work, hosting big parties, winning awards, and so on.

What about someone who feels bad if they aren’t working toward some kind of goal, however humble or eccentric? Or what about someone who pushes themselves towards goals that they find more difficult than others because of their temperament? Or what about the temperament type that ruminates and analyses everything in exhaustive detail, and treats those silent efforts as a kind of progress to be made?

As I understand it, a Type A personality is about being driven, and it doesn’t matter where you happen to be driving to. I have a med-student friend who is also melancholic and Type A, and  all the study she has to do in addition to family, work, music, and other commitments makes me feel sick just thinking about it. I’m not achieving anything so exalted as a medical degree (or so I tell myself in false humility) yet I greet each moment of potential rest with the question “what could I be getting done instead?”

I’m acutely aware, for example, of not having made any cheese since my blue brie finished over a week ago! Not only that, but my beer reserves are getting perilously low, and I’ll have to make time for another brew soon.

I jumped at the chance to turn this reflection into a blog post, because I haven’t written any for a while and I’m feeling genuinely bad about it, because I’m measuring my self-worth in large part by how productive I am. It doesn’t matter that my idea of productivity isn’t typical: those sardines aren’t going to salt-cure themselves! (Actually, they pretty much do once they get going).

Several months ago, in the midst of severe back pain I tried something a little unusual at the behest of an acquaintance with an interest in hypnotism: I asked my subconscious mind to tell me what the real cause of my pain was.

The answer I received was a mental image of myself lying face down in the driveway of our home, pinned by the front wheel of my car which happened to be driven by another me.  Apparently my subconscious mind loves puns and metaphors as much as I do. The message was clear: I am crushing myself with my own drive.

Still, it’s taken months and additional resources from people with expertise in this field for me to recognise the greater extent of this “drive” that is making me sick, stressed, and sad, when really I have so much to be grateful for in my life.

I’m so accustomed to it, I’ve embraced it so wholeheartedly that this drive feels like “me”. The thought of not accomplishing anything today, or this hour, or this minute makes me feel anxious and nauseated. On some level I’ve decided that I’m running out of time, I need to get things done at any cost. I’ve come to believe in the inherent goodness of purposive activity, and I feel empty and inept without it.

Something is terribly wrong when you feel like you can’t go to the park with your wife and son because it’s too good an opportunity to “get things done”. Something is terribly wrong when the act of getting out of bed to “get things done” is hampered by severe pain despite feeling inwardly fine.  There’s something wrong when the high of analysing, pursuing, and seeking to solve problems and understand mysteries drowns out love, happiness, and the experience of peace.

Part of me enjoys the pressure, the power, the sense of control. But like any addiction, it’s a mask, a distraction and a false sense of self.

We are all rich men now

My latest piece on MercatorNet examines how our consumer culture has fostered our love-hate relationship with money.

Most of us do not consider ourselves rich – we still have to work, after all – but consumerism has made us similar to the rich in our dependence on money, on wealth, for meeting our own needs. We may not be rich relative to the billionaires and multi-millionaires, but we are just as dependent on money as they are. Consumerism has given us the rich man’s dependence on wealth without his corresponding freedom from work.

Dtcwee’s working holiday

Dtcwee has posted an intriguing piece in which he wonders:

Could you treat work as a travel destination?

What if I have been subconsciously treating work as a travel destination instead? That quite fits. I holiday widely, and consistently gravitate towards maximising novelty, autonomy, and budget. I go to great lengths to avoid commitment or expense. Although I have made a few life-long friends, I generally don’t keep in touch with colleagues and fellow travelers. I like what I like and I go apeshit on TripAdvisor when it is refused.

And here’s the important part: I have little inclination to re-visit places, and even less inclination to re-visit crowded tourist traps.

http://dtcwee.blogspot.jp/2015/10/working-holiday.html

My only concern is that the conflation of work and travel might encourage people to use the term “career journey”. Otherwise, I think this is an excellent example of thinking through and around mindless social conventions. Has anyone ever before thought that work is like a travel destination? Perhaps unconsciously, as they murmur over and over “I want to go home!”

A painful attitude

Last week I mentioned Dr Sarno’s work in the context of my auto-immune disease and the intermittent flare-ups of pain and stiffness it brings.

My experience matches others’ accounts of the link between their pain and their broader psychological state: my pain seems to be associated with a self-imposed pressure to perform, to go faster, to get more done, or to be more responsible, more in control.

Sarno’s theory is that such expectations enrage us on a subconscious level, and we create the pain to distract us from what we consider to be inappropriate emotional responses. I’m not sure if this mechanism applies fully to my circumstances, but the expectations definitely play a role.

For example, when I lost my job a year ago I decided to see how far I could push my freelance writing. Things were going well for a few weeks, I felt confident and had dramatically increased my output. Then the pain set in. I ignored it for as long as I could, and in hindsight it’s remarkable that I managed – or wanted to – ignore it at all.

Eventually I realised what the problem was: at some point I had quietly decided that the solution to my employment problems was to write prodigiously and without ceasing. “Decided” is perhaps a bit of an understatement; it’s more like I subconsciously committed myself to that path, with a determined disregard for the consequences. It felt like a gut-level conviction that “This is what I have to do.”

Altogether it took a few weeks from the onset of the flare-up for me to stop ignoring the pain, remember the general psychological theory, work out the specific cause, and reverse it.  In this instance, fully reversing it meant recognising that the amount of work I was doing was not sustainable in the long-term, that the amount of money we needed to survive was much less than I had expected, and that imposing such pressure on myself was simply counter-productive.

I’ve found that this method neutralises the acute lateral pain of a flare-up so long as I genuinely reverse the underlying attitude. However, the long-term medial stiffness and occasional pain has not been responsive to these efforts. I’m working on a resolution for these chronic symptoms, but will have to save it for a later post.

Will robots take your job?

My latest piece at MercatorNet looks at the controversial and far-reaching issue of automation and the future of employment:

Until recently, our collective narrative around automation and employment has been quite comforting: we see automation taking away intrinsically undesirable industrial, repetitive, and unskilled jobs, while we are encouraged to pursue more skilled, more creative, and more fulfilling forms of employment. Our current understanding of automation complements our long-standing expectations around self-advancement and the evolution of employment, where the children of blue-collar workers have the opportunity to become tradesmen, white-collar workers, to join the professions, or otherwise reap the benefits of higher education through more highly skilled forms of employment.

But these higher echelons of employment – the kinds of jobs to which we or others are supposed to aspire – are as vulnerable to computerisation as the factory line.

What’s work for you?

My latest article on MercatorNet laments the narrowing of our concept of ‘work’ and the conflation of work with career:

For people who are interested not only in genuine work as opposed to careerism, but meaningful work above all, the current employment system and job market may have very little to offer. Part of the problem is that, regardless of the work involved, a career or a particular job typically represents an overly rigid narrowing of the full range of work – of actual doing – of which we are individually and collectively capable. In other words, to look for meaningful work only in the confines of established careers and job opportunities risks reinforcing a very narrow, very unfulfilling sense of what work is.

What do you live for?

mountain view

View from a mountain in Fuzhou, South East China.

I was thinking this would be my 101st blog post, but apparently that was the previous one…

Nevertheless, I’d like to take the opportunity presented by this 102nd blog post to thank everyone who has read, followed, or commented in the past three months.  Having a blog has changed my approach to writing, and it’s been gratifying to have such a positive response from readers internationally.

Like everything in my life at present the blog remains in a state of development with its ultimate end still unclear.  Like parenting, writing, studying, kung fu, music, and no doubt every long-term human endeavour, there are always new levels of challenge, refinement, and skill.  Sometimes it seems like we’re going in circles, or back to the start, and I’m pretty sure at times I’m just repeating mistakes I was too stupid to learn from the first few dozen times.

At other times I think the mistakes are there to keep us humble, to remind us how good it is to be able to enjoy a night’s sleep without your child waking up screaming and crying, or how nice it is to be able to speak without the pain from a sore throat you got after leaving the fan on all night when it wasn’t really that hot.  Or how refreshing it can be to just sit quietly in your living room without obsessively checking your email or compulsively refreshing your favourite websites; listen instead to the traffic go by and readjust to the subtler pace of non-virtual reality.

I think I might be a Quietist at heart; not the Christian heresy, but the philosophical approach:

Quietist philosophers believe that philosophy has no positive thesis to contribute, but rather that its value is in defusing confusions in the linguistic and conceptual frameworks of other subjects, including non-quietist philosophy. By re-formulating supposed problems in a way that makes the misguided reasoning from which they arise apparent, the quietist hopes to put an end to man’s confusion, and help return to a state of intellectual quietude.

In chapter 48 of the Dao De Jing (Legge translation):

He who devotes himself to learning (seeks) from day to day to increase (his knowledge); he who devotes himself to the Dao (seeks) from day to day to diminish (his doing). He diminishes it and again diminishes it, till he arrives at doing nothing (on purpose). Having arrived at this point of non-action, there is nothing which he does not do.

The way I see it, we are all either adding to our troubles or subtracting from them.  Everything I’ve done since losing my job has aimed at letting that loss be a real benefit, the final step towards a freedom that I could not have justified under the financial imperative that drove me at that time.  Yet there is a risk of letting these new activities – especially blogging and writing – become a new form of enslavement, a mere continuation of the dysfunctional dynamic of employment albeit with no one to blame but myself.

Being free from a ‘bullshit job’ is a worthy goal when you are in the job.  But once you are free you need a new goal, one even more inspiring and worthwhile now that you have the freedom to pursue it.  As much as I’ve enjoyed writing about my freedom from employment, it’s not enough to keep me motivated.  And as a philosophically-minded person, a superficial goal will not suffice.  I may wish to one day buy a piece of land in the hills and build a house on it one day, but that’s not really a desire, that’s an eventuality.

You know that old line: do you live to work or work to live? I think the answer to that question is obvious. The next question is: what do you live for?  Taking my Quietist impulses seriously suggests that the answer to this question is, paradoxically, not an answer, but the state of quiet we arrive at only when we are utterly diminished; a freedom from disturbance or conflict, a stillness, a calm that is beyond our understanding.

The greatness of a goal is reflected in how insignificant all other worries and cares seem in comparison, just as the view from a mountain top makes everything else look small. In this state of quiet everything else does indeed seem small, and the question of ‘what to live for’ is put into perspective.  Whatever this quiet is, it has the feel of being ‘right’ and ‘real’ in a way that the ordinary messiness of daily life does not.  It transcends the more limited perspective of struggle and strive.  From it, we can enjoy a higher view of life.

 

Serving two masters

Having a smaller, less stable income these days has left me newly appreciative of certain biblical passages:

No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

Money too is more than food and clothing, and as such I think it gives us a sense of security and sufficiency that inhibits our sensitivity to providence.  Why should we ‘trust in God’ when we have permanent employment and a guaranteed income?

This balance between material security and spiritual dependence is complex, as demonstrated by the contending interpretations of the beatitude of the ‘poor in spirit’, and the story of the rich young man who went away sad.

It’s not wealth per se that is the problem, but our devotion to it over and above higher things; allowing it to dominate our lives and our minds.  At times it can be hard to tell whether we are the masters of wealth or the slaves, driven by financial imperatives with nothing higher to intervene or change our minds.

I think this is the significance of my decision not to follow the financial imperative back into mediocre employment for the sake of a reliable income and the sense of security and sufficiency it affords.  The decision to cease compromising my integrity for the sake of money means acknowledging something higher than my income in a society where a high income is more often than not the summum bonum.

Your money, or your life?

My latest article at Mercatornet.com looks at the distinction between artificial wealth and natural wealth, and how our increasing dependence on money may be distorting our enjoyment of life.

In our minds only the very rich love money, since only the very rich have enough of it to relax, sit back, and think happy thoughts about their bank balances and net worth. We do not think of ourselves as lovers of money, but we are nonetheless, nearly to a man, devoted to the getting, the storing, and the increasing of our share. We may not feel that we love money, but we are, like respectable men of a past era, intent on doing the right thing by it. And for nearly all of us the right thing is to chase money, accumulate money, loyally devote ourselves to the earning and the increasing of our monetary wealth.