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Sentiments and Emotional Intelligence (II)
(New Woman, 2003-04-09)
Know
yourself
More than twenty-five centuries ago, Thales of
Mileto affirmed that the most difficult thing in the world
is to know oneself. And on the temple of
Delphi, one could read that famous Socratic inscription – gnosei
seauton: know thyself—which recalled a similar idea.
To know oneself well
is a primary and important step in order to learn
how to direct one’s own life, and perhaps that is
why it has been posed as such a great challenge
for man through the centuries.
The observation of oneself allows us
to separate oneself a bit from our own subjectivity, in
order to see ourselves from a certain distance, as the
painter does now and then when he steps back to
see how his work is going.
To observe oneself is like
rising above what is happening to us in the moment,
in order to have a better awareness of how we
are and what is happening to us. For example,
it is a very different thing to be very angry
and nothing more… or to be very angry but also
aware that one is annoyed; that is, to have the
reflexive awareness that tells us, “Watch what you’re doing, because
you’re very angry.”
To be aware of our own emotional state
is the first step towards the control of our own
sentiments.
A good understanding of what is happening to us can
have a powerful effect on upset feelings that can invade
us, and offers us the opportunity to strive to overcome
ourselves and not to abandon ourselves at the mercy of
the feeling.
—But there are many people who are aware
that they are going through a negative emotional state, and
nevertheless, they are not able to get out of it.
Yes, there are, without a doubt. They are people
who often feel hijacked by their own feelings, and they
realize that they are pessimistic, bad-humoured, susceptible, or depressed, but
they consider themselves incapable of coming out of that state.
They are aware of their situation, but in a
vague way, and it is precisely their lack of perspective
on those sentiments that makes them feel overwhelmed and lost.
They think that they can’t govern their emotional life
and that is why they do nothing effective to get
out of the hole they find themselves in.
There are other
people who are somewhat more aware of what happens to
them, but their problem is that they tend to passively
accept those sentiments. They are inclined towards negative moods,
and they limit themselves to accept them with resignation, with
an attitude of giving up, of letting themselves be carried
along by them, and they don’t try to change them
in spite of how much it bothers them to bear
it.
—And do you think then that in reality they are
not so aware of what is happening to them?
Exactly.
The people who perceive their sentiments with true clarity achieve
a more developed emotional life. They are more autonomous
people, more secure, more positive; and when they fall into
a negative mood, they don’t go over it obsessively, nor
do they accept it in a passive way, but they
are able to confront it and thanks to that, they
don’t take long to get out of it. Their
equanimity in their self-knowledge helps them to address their problems
incisively, and to govern their affective life efficaciously.
Observe your own
behavior and the behavior of others
Self-knowledge is
a key point for the formation and educatoin of character
and of the sentiments of a given person. Besides,
that ability to know what really happens to us and
why it happens is very related to our capacity to
understand others well. In this sense, it is very
useful to develop the capacity of observing the behavior of
others and of oneself. Literature, or the movies, for
example, can teach a great deal about ourselves and others,
especially when the authors have a deep understanding of the
human spirit and know how to reflect well about what
happens in the interior of people.
—But to foster so much
interest in self-knowledge seems dangerous. Couldn’t it lead to
individualism and introversion?
Naturally, we are not talking about developing
a desire for morbid psychological introspection, but of trying to
know ourselves, to avoid living with oneself as with a
stranger.
Knowing oneself well doesn’t lead one to close up
in one’s own subjectivity, but to see oneself with as
much objectivity as possible.
And this helps, among other things, to
combat the instability of spirit that is produced when a
person lets himself be carried away by his imagination: sometimes
digressing into dreams and fantasies, at other times, tending to
overestimate one’s own possibilities, and at other times, staying at
the mercy of pessimism or indecision, underestimating one’s capacities when
the circumstances seem unfavorable.
Emotional awareness is very intense in some
people, while in others it is much more moderated.
There are people, for example, who react to dangerous situations
with amazing serenity. Others, on the other hand, can
be very affected for a few days simply because someone
took their pen or because their favorite team lost a
game in the football playoffs.
—It seems as if you are
saying that it’s a negative thing to experience intense emotions.
There is no reason why it should be that way.
The excess of emotional sensitivity can lead us to
affective storms (positive or negative, of exaltation or depression), and
that has many risks. But neither can one say
that coldness and detachment are any sort of ideal state.
In
order to facilitate self-knowledge, it is useful to analyze the
multiple elements that interact in our life. It is
logical that, through the years, some of those facets can
go through moments of greater or lesser conflict. There
are painful situations that can have their origin in professional
questions (difficulties in obtaining or maintaining a particular professional level,
problems of understanding between managers and colleagues, failures due to
one’s own fault or to the superiority of the competition,
situations of work stoppage or of labor unrest, etc.).
There can also be difficulties of health that limit our
capacity in a short-term or long-term way, and that can
be accompanied by serious physical or psychological suffering. There
are affective problems that daily life with others brings about
(differences of criteria between a married couple, or between parents
and children, etc.). And then there are all the
specific problems that can arise from life at school, from
beginning a new career, from the loss of health, or
the arrival of old age, etc.
And just as, for example,
a concrete health problem, even if it is localized in
a specific part of the body, can end up producing
a generalized feeling of illness in the whole person, so
too, a grave problem in any facet of life—for example,
in one’s professional life or in the family—can produce an
effect that transcends that facet and provokes other problems in
a chain reaction: character disorders, shyness or aggressivity in relation
with others, or even—when the problems are important—a tendency towards
specific illnesses.
This is why, if the necessary maturity and self-knowledge
are lacking, some problems of one facet of life end
up blamed on another area of life, which in reality
has nothing to do with it, or at least, has
very little to do with it. In this way,
a person can blame her husband or her children or
her parents for the frustration that she feels, when in
reality, that feeling is caused primarily by a problem at
work, or by a simple affective immaturity. Or, she
might think that her professional situation is the reason why
she feels unsatisfied, when in reality it’s because she is
not accepting the natural loss of her abilities or of
her health, which might be getting worse because of age
or because of the mood cycles that she goes through.
Or, she can blame everything on certain faults of
the people she lives with, when the real problem is
actually that her own character is becoming more rarefied with
time.
People—or at least, the majority—tend to project outside of
ourselves the solutions to the problems we experience. We
often put the blame on others for almost all of
the bad things that happen to us. An important
part of self-knowledge is to be forewarned about the presence
of this subtle deception. It is certain that outside
situations can always help us to resolve and overcome our
problems, but we should not dismiss—neither totally nor partially—the extremely
wide margin of responsibility that we have for the majority
of the things that happen to us in life.
Neither should
it be forgotten that laziness—with all the interior burden it
can come to have in our life—tries to lead us
by the law of minimum effort. For that reason,
when we feel a sense of reluctance and apathy about
facing a task that we know will be costly, we
have to clearly identify its origin and recognize it for
what it is: a reasonable tiredness that calls for rest,
or perhaps a form of laziness that we have to
overcome. But we should not mistakenly interpret the reluctance
as a lack of aptitude, nor the ordinary difficulties as
an accumulation of misfortunes or of malicious schemes engineered against
us, because that would be a sad way of fooling
oneself.
—But sometimes one faces problems that have no easy solution.
Then it is precisely a matter of seeking reasonable ways
to solve those problems, at least as far as we
are able. There will be occasions in which we
can only try to decrease the negative consequences and learn
to overcome them: for example, in the case of chronic
illnesses, or big economic or professional failures whose solution lies
outside our reach, or serious problems relating to people that
we have to deal with, etc.
—And how does one distinguish
between what ought to be overcome and what we should
try to change?
A profound and accurate knowledge of oneself,
confirmed by the attentive observation of one’s external behavior and
internal reactions, enriched by the advice of those who know
and appreciate us, will allow us to identify the true
origin of the disturbances that we inevitably experience throughout our
lives.
That’s how we will make good progress towards emotional maturity,
which is a world away from those arrogant affirmations of
some people (“I still think exactly the same as I
have always thought,” as if the best proof of lucidity
was never to change one’s way of thinking), and equally
far from that variability of those who constantly change their
ideals and forget their convictions as if they were a
small virus that came and went, or as if the
passing of the years gave them no stable lessons that
they could return to.
Discern your own sentiments
Self-knowledge
is an open process that never ends, because life is
like an incomplete symphony which is constantly being created, which
can always be surpassed, and which therefore demands constant attention.
Self-knowledge
is the door of truth.
When it is lacking, one cannot
be sincere with oneself, as much as one wants to
be. To want to see what happens to us—and
to want it in truth, with full sincerity—is the decisive
point. If that is lacking, we can live like
we are surrounded by a cloud, and perhaps our own
imagination can hide the realities that are really bothering us.
Because to look for escapes when one doesn’t want to
look inside oneself is the easiest thing in the world.
There are always exterior causes to blame, and that’s
why it requires a certain courage to accept that the
guilt, or the responsibility, is perhaps our own, or at
least a good part of it. That personal courage
is essential to make progress on the path of truth,
although at times it can be a path that can
be very costly to climb.
Not to perceive one’s own sentiments
with equanimity is easily to remain at their mercy. There
are sentiments that flow in an almost unconscious way, but
which are not any less important. For example, a
person who has had a disagreeable meeting can afterwards remain
irritable for hours, feeling bothered by the smallest trifles and
responding in a sharp way to the slightest insinuation.
That person can be very little aware of her susceptibility,
and even surprised—and newly bothered—if someone makes her aware of
it, although for the other people around her it is
quite obvious that her behavior is due to those sentiments
that are boiling in her interior as a consequence of
that disagreeable meeting she had earlier on in the day.
A
good part of our emotional life takes a while to
emerge to the surface.
There are sentiments that do not always
cross the threshold of consciousness. Recognize them allows us
to push back the frontier of our fully conscious sentiments,
and that always presupposes a powerful means to allow us
to improve.
Once we become aware of which are the true
sentiments that are fighting to get to the surface of
our consciousness, we can evaluate them with greater accuracy, decide
to leave some to one side and encourage others, and
in this way, act on our vision of things and
on our mood. In this we show, among other
things, that we are intelligent beings.
Whoever knows himself well can
rely on his strong points in order to work on
his weak points, and in this way, correct them and
improve them.
It’s like an intense light that illuminates their lives
and lets them make the right choices in the crucial
moments, from the simplest decisions of daily life to the
truly important ones.
—You mentioned something earlier about “not wanting to
see”. In what sense?
There are many ways of evading
reality, and they are almost always produced in a semi-unconscious
way by the protagonist.
Some people, for example, talk themselves into
things by rationalizing their actions. “Let me enjoy that, and
later I’ll see what I’m doing” (where “that” can be
some form of egoism, laziness, or escape from reality).
They don’t seem to realize up to what point that
error can start gaining ground in their lives and obscuring
the slight relief that it temporarily produces.
There are others who
deceive themselves with the reasonings of a spoiled child who
prefers to stay locked in her room, bored and alone,
counting her grievances and the reasons why she is anger,
even though she knows it would be better to overcome
her anger and come out. She prefers to remain
sad in her disgrace so as not to confront her
own obstinacy.
Others are like that type of person who
anxiously pursues pleasure, and who experiences the gradual lessening of
his relief. He knows that that path will not
bring him a high degree of satisfaction, but he prefers
to follow after that insatiable need, because it frightens him
to see himself deprived of it.
“Our heart,” Susanna Tamaro has
written, “is like the earth, which is partly in sunlight
and partly in shadow. To go down in order
to know it well is very difficult, very painful, for
it is always arduous for us to accept that one
part of ourselves is in shadow. Besides, against that
painful discovery, many defenses set themselves against it in our
interior: pride, the presumption of being the indisputable masters of
our own life, the conviction that reason is enough to
fix everything. Pride is perhaps the greatest obstacle: that
is why we need so much courage and humility in
order to examine ourselves in depth.”
Knowing how to express what
we feel
“The tears were gathering in
my eyes,” thought Ida, the protagonist of the at novel
by Mercedes Salisachs, “and it was difficult to avoid them.”
“I
reproached myself afterwards for my lack of vision, that cursed
silence that always dominated our after-dinner conversations, that obsession of
always keeping our thoughts and worries for ourselves.”
“If at least
my daughter would have let show even a little of
what was happening to her… If she had only come
to me so that I could help her… But no.
Keep silence; that was what we all did.
To cover the most pustulent boils with healthy skin.
It is horrible. Now I understand that I did
not know my daughter.”
Some people have been educated in such
a way that they often hide their feelings in a
habitual way. They feel an excessive modesty to express
what they really think or what really worries them, and
they resist showing emotion or affection. Perhaps they desire
to speak, but they are stopped by a barrier of
shyness, of embarrassment, of false respect, of pride. Of
course, some sentiments and feelings are only exteriorized within a
certain degree of intimacy, and require a certain reserve, but
to silence them always, or to cover them with apparent
indifference hinders affective development and leads, among other things, to
an important loss in the capacity to recognize and express
one’s own sentiments.
Many emotional imbalances have their origin in the
fact that those persons do not know how to show
their own sentiments, and that has led them to educate
them in a deficient way. When they speak of
themselves, they find it very difficult to say something specific
about whether they feel good, bad, or very bad.
It is difficult for them to speak of those questions,
and they have recourse to a highly reduced emotional vocabulary.
It is not that they don’t feel; it is
that they do not know how to discern well what
is stirring in their interior, nor how to translate it
into words. They ignore the deeper cause at the
bottom of their problems. They perceive their emotions as
a disconcerting bunch of tensions that make them feel good
or bad, but they are not able to explain what
type of good or bad it is that they feel.
That
emotional confusion makes us catch an inkling of the greatness
of the power of language, and understand that when we
manage to express what we feel in words, we are
taking a big step towards the control of our sentiments.
Reflecting
on sentiments
It has always been said
that if we don’t understand something well, the best thing
we can do is try to start explaining it.
For example, a professor often experiences the difficulty of making
his students understand the most complex parts of a subject.
Nevertheless, in the measure that the class advances in
its development, and those concepts are faced over and over
again from different perspectives, the ideas start to become more
clear, and small and great illuminations come out, as much
for the students as for the professor himself.
So, a
good way to advance in the education of sentiments is
to think, read, and speak about sentiments. As we
do so, our ideas become more clear, and they will
grow ever more precise and accurate. And we will
gain an ever improving knowledge of what happens in our
interior, in order to, in order later to try to
explain it, to seek its causes, its laws, its regularities,
and finally, to try to pull out some overall idea
in order to improve our affective education.
The themes can be
quite varied. Before, we have spoken, for example, of
how we tend to cast the blame on others for
all the bad things that happen to us, and of
that other tendency to project our own defects onto others.
In
both cases, we’re dealing with phenomena that, as often happens
with everything related to the knowledge of people, can be
seen more easily in others than in oneself. It
is not difficult, for example, to see a very selfish
person who complains about the selfishness of other people and
says that nobody helps her. One might also see
another person who is always complaining, but who always protests
that the others are complaining; or an exhausting talker who
accuses another person of talking too much; or an irascible
man who denounces the ill humor of others.
Just by forewarning
ourselves against these two errors—and at bottom, they are very
similar—we can make great progress in this important task of
self-knowledge. It is a matter of trying to see
the good things in others, which there always are, and
to learn from them. And when we see their
defects (or something that seems like a defect to us),
to stop and think whether those same defects are not
also present in our own lives.
We will improve ourselves by
trying to know what are our dominant defects.
In order to
make it more concrete, we can consider some defects related
to the education of sentiments:
- Shyness, fear of
social relations, timidity;
- Irascibility, susceptibility, exaggerated tendency to feel offended;
- Tendency to dwell excessively on worries, to take refuge
in solitude or in an excessive reserve;
- Perfectionism, rigidity, dissatisfaction;
- Lack of capacity to give and receive affection;
- Nervousness, impulsiveness, mistrustfulness;
- Pessimism,
sadness, bad moods;
- Paying recourse to simulation, faking it, lies, or
deception;
- Tendency to create discord, to be fastidious, to take the
opposite point of view; stubborness;
- Excessive self-indulgence before one’s own mistakes;
difficulties controlling onself in eating, drinking, use of tobacco, etc.;
- Tendency
to take refuge in fantasy and daydreams; difficulty fixing one’s
attention or concentrating;
- Excessive tendency to require the attention of
others; emotional dependence;
- Speaking too much, presuming, exaggerating, bragging, not
listening to others;
- Resistance to accepting the ordinary demands of
authority;
- Tendency to whims, manias, or extravagance;
- Tendency to resist
accepting one’s own guilt, or obsessive feelings of guilt;
- Not
being able to handle the normal ups and downs of
daily life; not knowing how to lose or how to
win;
- Difficulty understanding others or making oneself understood by them;
- Difficulty
with teamwork and with getting along with others, etc.
Continued in Sentiments and Emotional Intelligence (III) |
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