Is This an Age of Collective Madness or a Precipice of Growth?

If you've been felling like your news feed is more full of irrationality and outrageousness than before, you're not alone. Is the world going stark mad or can we write a bigger story?

I have been writing this article in my mind for many weeks now. I finished last year with a profound feeling of exhaustion, bordering burnout. Alongside it came a sense of deep sadness at the incessant worrying news from around the world and the tsunami of hatred, greed, cruelty, polarisation and intolerance that seems to be sweeping the West, spurred by its very leaders. I felt helplessness and something that my incessantly optimistic self very rarely experiences: hopelessness and meaninglessness. I stared into that void and for the first time in ages, I’ve asked myself if any of the work I do even matters.

Perhaps my hopes that human beings can indeed be helped to grow into wiser, more mature versions of themselves regardless of age are unfounded and all the research supporting this possibility is flawed. Perhaps my dreams of contributing, in my small way, to a more just, kinder, more tolerant, more discerning, more generous world are a total waste of time and energy. Perhaps we are forever doomed to forget the harshest lessons of history and repeat our worst mistakes as a species over and over again until we cross that point of no return where our civilisation is destroyed not by some external calamity, but by our very own stupidity. And if that is the case, why bother trying to turn the tide since any effort you make will amount to a drop in an ocean?

But then I remembered a line from one of my favourite movies - Cloud Atlas. In this scene, a patriarch and slave owner spits his rage at his daughter and son-in-law who have decided to leave the safety and comfort of their privileged lives to join abolitionist efforts in the North.

"No matter what you do it will never amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean.”

“What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?”

The son-in-law’s reply is not the mark of naive, pampered, rich youth simply rebelling against their elders. It’s the conscious choice of a man who had almost died at the hands of those paid to protect him and had been saved by a slave who had chosen to help instead of crush his oppressor. He knows his efforts are a drop in the ocean. And he chooses to try anyway.

But how can you keep on adding your drops to the ocean without losing yourself in the process? How do you face exhaustion and hopelessness while still making room for joy and ease in your life? How to keep on caring about the world without breaking down under the weight of injustice and pain? How do you keep contributing without worrying that the problems to solve are way bigger than you?

Last week my wonderful friend and fellow coach, facilitator and researcher, Dr. Hayley Linthwaite gifted me a night with one of my favourite authors (and wise women) - Elizabeth Gilbert. I’ve loved and followed Liz Gilbert for almost two decades. Her books and words of wisdom have accompanied me through highs and lows - breakdowns and breakthroughs, grief, getting lost in life (and finding myself again), facing inner demons and peeking into the darker corners of my being, only to find new meaning and paths forward when it all seemed to make little sense - just like it all does now.

I was beyond excited to see and listen to her and had no idea what she would talk about, only that I’d likely find solace and a new perspective in her words. And I did, but not in the way I’d expected. She started by challenging the idea of the ‘purposeful life’ - understood as the idea that each person has to have some higher purpose, a unique talent or calling that they must discover, hone to perfection, turn into a lucrative profession and use to build a legacy for themselves. This way of thinking, she suggested, leads to “purpose anxiety” - a huge pressure we put on ourselves to be something/someone, to always chase some future outcome, to feel responsible for changing the world in some way and in turn robs us of the ability to be fully present in our lives, driven by curiosity (versus ‘passion’) and able to enjoy what is right in front of us every given day.

If your mind works like mine, you might wonder if giving up the pursuit of purpose might mean resigning ourselves to accepting all that goes wrong with the world and giving up hope of ever helping make anything better. I don’t think that is what Gilbert advocated for. What she did seem to hint at is that we are constantly surrounded with small opportunities to make a difference for ourselves or others, which we miss in pursuit of some ‘big impact’ or overlook because we are rarely fully present and attuned to our surroundings. What she advocates for is curiosity as a pathway to presence and meaningful action.

All of this made me go back to the foundation of my own and so many others’ research in the space of adult development - a principle we’ve seen emerge, over and over again, from our studies of human psychological growth. There’s so much we still don’t know about how humans grow and endure, but this, I believe, we do know for sure:

Wisdom is born out of hardship. Always.

While we seem to be living in some of the most chaotic and unwise times in recent history, this chaos might just be - for you or me - the forge in which more of our wisdom is honed.

The starkest example of that, for me, has been reaching a point of overwhelm, where my anxiety, anger, sadness, outrage at the way current world leaders seem to be steering our global boat boiled over. Only when I could not take that pain anymore was I able to stop, breathe and remember the biggest lesson from my own research - that vertical development happens when we allow ourselves to feel our most painful feelings, then get curious about them and then, in the stillness that ensues, find a new perspective.

I sat down, in silence, with the pain of all those feelings. I felt it in my heart, my muscles, my bones. I felt the weight of anxiety pushing down, like a slab of concete on my chest, suffocating me. I felt the churn of anger in my gut. The restlessness and impulse to do something. The fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. The impulse to hide away. The shame for even feeling that impulse in the first place. I felt the bone-deep exhaustion and the deep desire to just quit doing what I’ve done for 18 years. The terror that all my work with leaders has been for nothing. And again more shame for allowing that feeling to take me over. The fear of what shirking my responsibilities would mean for the people I love. The fear of letting them down. The fear that I might just not have anything left to give. The grief of possibly losing all I have worked for. Even deeper than that, the pain that all my belief in the goodness of humans and their potential for growth and all the years invested in understanding how to foster that potential might have been for nothing.

I noticed the feelings arising in me when my darkest thoughts took over: What if humans are irredeemable? What if we are designed for greed and self-serving impulses and what if, at the very core, that is all we are? What if we’ll always choose leaders that reflect our worst impulses because we are simply incapable of more? What if that is indeed the true nature of the world I live in - then who am I to even hope for more? A misfit? A naive dreamer? An idealistic fool?

Each of those thoughts came with a jolt of pain in my body and, unlike countless other times when I had avoided going so deep into my fear and grief and distracted myself through busyness, this time I let all of that mess of feeling go through me. I allowed myself to feel it all, noticing the almost physical pain and the layers and layers of sensations and ever deeper, ever harder-to-face feelings emerging.

And then I noticed something fascinating. My body started to settle. I started to breathe a bit more easily. Nothing had changed. My circumstances were the same. My beliefs/worries were still there. And yet, simply by allowing myself to feel all of it, those emotions no longer held me. I held them. Moreover, I could notice I was not them. I had feelings. And my body had the capacity to experience them all. Nothing broke down. There was more space in me than I believed possible.

And then I got curious. What is this rage, grief and fear trying to teach me? What is there that I’m not seeing? What kind of growth lies in wait for me, beyond this pit of hopelessness and outrage?

Curiosity is both a feeling and a choice. It only arises when we, in Liz Gilbert’s words, “choose the most interesting path”. We have to choose to be intrigued for curiosity to emerge. And once we do that, the feeling itself is like a balm - like some sort of magical liquid we can pour into the container of our bodies, on top of all the other painful feelings. It’s the catalyst of an alchemical reaction, one that doesn’t take away the pain, but turns it into an object of wonder. And to wonder about anything is to make that thing interesting, even beautiful in its own way.

In my own experience of that inner alchemy, I realised that my outrage at the greed and senseless cruelty around me was a reflection of my own negated shadow. That in me lives the very darkness I abhor. I started thinking of my own moments of greed, of wanting more, of needing to prove myself, to show I’m better, smarter. I remembered the dark pleasure of showing I was right by proving someone else wrong. The sense of power that comes with doing it my way, disregarding others’ needs or wishes. The sickly sweet (but sweet nonetheless) feeling of being in control. The ease that comes with oversimplifying things and splitting reality into good and bad, right and wrong - always believing myself to be on the ‘right’ side. The feeling of superiority that arises with looking down on those who ‘don’t get it’. The feral aggression that comes when I think of anybody I love getting hurt.

I was poignantly reminded that I hold a lot of darkness in me. I am subject, as all humans, to a host of base needs and impulses. I am not inherently good, nor in a position to be outraged at the bad guys. I cannot say “I don’t understand how these people can think/act like that!” because I can, in fact, understand, while that doesn’t mean I condone those behaviours.

I was also reminded of a fundamental fact: I am free to choose if and how I act on my impulses.

Do I notice my craving for power and control and choose to let it go, empowering others instead? Am I choosing collaboration over competition, even when competing comes easier? Do I notice my harsh judgements and instead choose to ask questions, staying curious to understand another’s perspective, even when I don’t like it or agree with it? Do I choose to hunker down, be outraged and do nothing or step up and take some small action, in line with my highest values? Do I choose to show up with compassion while still humbly acknowledging I am perfectly capable of its opposite?

Sitting in the mess inside of me felt like walking on hot coals - something I’ve done more than once in my life and every time it felt transformative. It felt like hitting a precipice and then jumping, trusting I’d grow wings before hitting the bottom. It felt like a new space in me was being opened and from that space more became possible. But to find that space, I first needed to let myself fall apart.

To break through we first need to break down. Over and over again. There is no shortcut.

I’ve gone through this process at the end of last year and allowed myself weeks to recover. It took a while and I’m not out of the woods yet. I still find it hard to lean into my work with the same abandon as I did when the world seemed less threatening. I still have days when my cynicism takes over. I do, however, feel capable of holding all of that and still moving forward - doing my best to live consciously and act wisely, continuing to pour my drop of goodness into that vast ocean every day, whatever the outcome may be. I feel hopeful seeing I’m far from alone in making that choice. Like me, so many others are now striving, through their words and actions, to stand up for positive values and do good around them, even when that kind of mindset seems to be out of pace with the times.

One of my Coaching Diploma participants has shared a beautiful name for those who make this kind of choice - showing up with presence, compassion, gentle determination and positive action to a world in turmoil: Shambala Warriors. As I explored the concept a bit more I came across this list of principles from The Buddhist Centre. I leave them below, with gratitude for the author, as they don’t need any further explanation or interpretation.

Perhaps what the world does need right now is that each of us, from our own roles and positions - professional and personal - chose to embody some of that Shambala Warrior mindset. Recognise the dark forces churning in the world. Humbly acknowledge those dark forces within ourselves. Choose to show up with humanity every day - especially on the hardest days. Seek to understand that which we most fiercely oppose and, from that place of understanding, stand up for what we believe in. From that place, positive action can emerge. And from myriad small positive actions, change becomes possible. A new story can be written. For what is an ocean, but a multitude of drops?

The Shambhala warrior mind-training

By Akuppa, 2005
with gratitude to Joanna Macy

Firmly establish your intention to live your life for the healing of the world. Be conscious of it, honour it, nurture it every day.

Be fully present in our time. Find the courage to breathe in the suffering of the world. Allow peace and healing to breathe out through you in return.

Do not meet power on its own terms.
See through to its real nature - mind- and heart-made. Lead your response from that level.

Simplify. Clear away the dead wood in your life.
Look for the heartwood and give it the first call on your time; the best of your energy.

Put down the leaden burden of saving the world alone.
Join with others of like mind.Align yourself with the forces of resolution.

Hold in a single vision, in the same thought, the transformation of yourself and the transformation of the world. Live your life around that edge, always keeping it in sight.

As a bird flies on two wings, balance outer activity with inner sustenance.

Following your heart, realise your gifts.
Cultivate them with diligence to offer knowledge and skill to the world.

Train in non-violence of body, speech and mind.
With great patience with yourself, learn to make beautiful each action, word and thought.

In the crucible of meditation, bring forth day by day into your own heart the treasury of compassion, wisdom and courage for which the world longs.

Sit with hatred until you feel the fear beneath it.
Sit with fear until you feel the compassion beneath that.

Do not set your heart on particular results.
Enjoy positive action for its own sake and rest confident that it will bear fruit.

When you see violence, greed and narrow-mindedness in the fullness of its power, walk straight into the heart of it, remaining open to the sky and in touch with the earth.

Staying open, staying grounded, remember that you are the inheritor of the strengths of thousands of generations of life.

Staying open, staying grounded, recall that the thankful prayers of future generations are silently with you.

Staying open, staying grounded, be confident in the magic and power that arise when people come together in a great cause.

Staying open, staying grounded, know that the deep forces of Nature will emerge to the aid of those who defend the Earth.

Staying open, staying grounded, have faith that the higher forces of wisdom and compassion will manifest through our actions for the healing of the world.

When you see weapons of hate, disarm them with love.
When you see armies of greed, meet them in the spirit of sharing.
When you see fortresses of narrow-mindedness, breach them with truth.
When you find yourself enshrouded in dark clouds of dread, dispel them with fearlessness. When forces of power seek to isolate us from each other, reach out with joy.

In it all and through it all, holding to your intention, let go into the music of life. Dance!

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