Last Rites For a Used-Up American Dream
As we listen to reports about climate change or the rising prices of food, oil, and water, my friends and I often ask each other, “When will we make the fundamental changes that will make our lives less destructive and less fearful?” Some suggest that our addiction is so strong that we won’t change until we absolutely have to, when global catastrophe strikes and resource prices spiral out of most peoples’ reach. My own comments usually go in two directions: first, if we perceive that life can be better without the detours and dysfunction, we may decide to change our priorities in this decade, and become historical superheroes! (This is the good news). Second, (the bad news) we are in fact already experiencing catastrophe, most easily perceived regionally. For example, some eastern cities ran out of landfill space years ago and are now begging neighboring states to take their waste. (New York City alone ships 600 tractor-trailers out of state every single day.) Cities from Sacramento, California to Sydney, Australia are running out of potable water supplies and a new industry is emerging: the tug-boating of huge plastic bags containing up to 5 million gallons of “bottled” water from water-rich countries like Turkey to arid ones like Cyprus. Already, insurance companies refuse to provide coverage to residents of coastal, hurricane-prone areas; meanwhile, many inland areas are experiencing record-setting, regional catastrophes like flashfloods, forest fires, drought, and plummeting water tables – all related to our lifestyle and its side effects.
In the U.S., Venezuela, the U.K., Norway and about eight other major oil-producing countries, oil production has already reached maximum output and begun to decline, forever. Even in nations where production is still on the upswing, major fields are declining. Back in the 1940s, the United States was the Saudi Arabia of the world, producing about two-thirds of the world’s oil; brashly, we built our economy around the idea of limitless supplies. Today, U.S. output contributes less than one-tenth of global production from roughly 3 percent of the world’s reserves. Our fields are played out.
We already see what regional catastrophe looks like in places like New Orleans, with its one million environmental refugees; in famine-stricken Africa, where millions have died from civil war and lack of clean water; and the great plains of China, where chronic dust storms turn day into night and farmland into desert. But it’s also true that we can prevent the holocaust of planetary catastrophe if we read the persistent warning signs, stay calm, and take strategic steps to create a more efficient, less consumptive world. Consider this book to be last rites for an era dying of affluenza, as well as a birth announcement for a brilliant new economy that historians may refer to as a just-in-time Renaissance. Long live our emerging, moderate lifestyle, rich in green technologies, relevant information, human relationships, great health, and magnificent art!
In her work on the process of dying, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identified denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance as the five stages that precede death. Regarding the passing of our excessive way of life, I’d guess that we Americans are collectively in the bargaining phase, though of course some individuals are still in denial and others are quite angry — about the price of gasoline, for example. Many others are moving through depression about the scope of the problem. Fortunately, many have come to accept that changes are not only necessary but can be quite positive. Why carry the heavy baggage of over-consumption? These front-runners have already rolled up their sleeves and are ready to do whatever it takes to change the world for the better. Indeed, our future may rest on their good energies and sense of hope.
It’s not that money itself is a bad thing. A person’s skills, talents, and good energies often result in monetary as well as other types of rewards. That’s great. But the real value lies beneath the money – in those things we crave instinctually. What money is worth ultimately depends on how it is earned, and how it is spent. When it becomes the central focus in a person’s life, the resulting imbalance may well create poverty in other areas, reducing our odds of being truly happy. For example, a person may be poor in available time, or else have lots of time but not know what to do with it. He may lack meaningful connections with people, be culturally clueless, or lack vitality and playfulness. Natural systems may be less abundant as a result of that individual’s business decisions and excessive purchases; or the community he lives in may lose the benefit of his creative, civic energy – all because the individual is off-balance – like most of us.
One executive who owns a global company with 300,000 employees confided that people “at the top” are often extremely lonely because they are suspicious of others. They think anyone who approaches them in friendship does so because of their power and only wants to take advantage of them. (4) Another businessman reported that right after closing a big deal, it felt like his life might improve, forever. But, alas, the next deal hovered over his desk, and he calculated that he had “about seven minutes” of elation.
On the other hand, intrinsic goals like personal growth/self-acceptance, community involvement, and a sense of vitality deliver continuing satisfaction. Psychologists like Kasser, Ryan and Deci aren’t suggesting that we live like monks. Kasser, for example, lives on a small, lush farm in central Illinois and has a great quality of life (without a TV!) He told me that what makes him happy are things like teaching his son how to swim, and spending quality time with his wife after the kids are in bed. Tim Kasser reminds us that it’s not stuff, stocks and bonds, or the horsepower of one’s vehicle that provides true satisfaction, but how well we meet our psychological and physical needs.
One day back in my college years, I noticed I’d been working for a few hours on a poem and thought it was only a few minutes. As opposed to the schoolwork I was required to do, the writing was something I did because I loved it. It was a fascinating puzzle, and the more I focused, the faster the time flew by. I suspected back then that writing could be something I might do for a “living.” I think my instincts were guiding me towards something that might be of use. (I’ll leave that up to you.)
I’ve had many similar experiences before and since then, and a few years ago, I found an explanation for what I often experience in writing, gardening, playing music, or hiking. Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (try saying that name three times backwards) calls it “flow.” He describes this phenomenon as “being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.”
Csikszentmihalyi’s research indicates that the process of an activity can be more important than the end product. When we are fully in the process, fully focused on a task, we feel alive. The activity becomes its own reward. After a flow experience, we are not only refreshed, but we’ve increased our skills, sensitivity, and self-confidence. We are more “complex,” to use Csikszentmihalyi’s term. (It seems we are hard-wired to improve ourselves!) He’s been researching “optimal experience” at the University of Chicago since the 1970s, and has compiled a large data set involving people from all walks of life. Basically his technique, the “experience sampling method,” (ESM) catches people in the middle of their daily activities and asks them to record what they are doing and how much they enjoy it. When they are signaled at random a certain number of times during the day, participants record in a workbook if they are in a condition of flow, or something far less.
To be genuinely happy, observes Csikszentmihalyi, we need to actively create our experiences and our lives, rather than passively letting media and marketers create it for us. The pathway to greatest happiness goes beyond mindless consuming to the heightened, enlightened realm of mindful challenge, where we are engaged, connected, and alive. Csikszentmihalyi’s distinction between pleasure and enjoyment suggests that many of us are settling for Grade B happiness – a package of mind dulling pleasures – rather than reaching for more intrinsic flow experiences. His ESM research indicates that when we challenge ourselves to experience or produce something new; to see things in a different light; and in general, to become actively engaged in what we’re doing, true enjoyment transforms moments of our lives from the routine to the extraordinary. The great news is that anyone can do it, with activities that are self-determined.
