C. S. Lewis on mortal threats (1946)
In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. “How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.”
In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors—anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.
This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.
Some corrective measures in interesting times:
Media exposure: a single daily briefing suffices. This is not a drill, but it’s not a show either.
Adopt reasonable precautions. But don’t go crazy. Trust other people to do their jobs. Get on with yours.
Don’t panic. And don’t panic about people who are panicking. Look around. People are basically resilient, resourceful, and calmly cheerful.
Take a long view. This will not turn out how you think it will, but that is true for everything. What is certain is that humanity, society, and communities always bounce back.
Happiness is a choice. History is replete with people that were poised, joyful, and useful in appalling circumstances. Make a decision to be like that. Don’t whine.
Material existence can be rotten, but that needn’t have any effect on life. Less existence: more life. Connect. Assist. Celebrate.
What is letting go? Trusting God, stopping thinking about 'it', and getting on with something else. The temptation will keep arising. Redirect the moment temptation arises. This is a matter only of willingness. Page 84. Page 63.
Five outcomes of a systematic analysis in Step Eight:
An amend, where I caused serious harm or damaged the relationship.
An apology, where I broke a moral or social rule but no one was actually harmed.
An expression of gratitude, acknowledgement, recognition, etc.,, which was due but never given.
A tactical or strategic learning: no one was harmed, but I would act differently in future.
Off the hook: turns out I acted right.
Spending time in the field is great. But don't forget the head office.
Spending time at the head office is great. But don't forget the fieldwork.
Connecting to God is not self-indulgent: it is what enables everything else.
Only connecting to God misses the point of connecting to God.
There's light hidden in the world.
It must be revealed.
Don't think about what others think about you.
Don't look in mirrors except to adjust your make-up and hair.
And even then, only occasionally.
Assume people are doing their absolute best and treat them accordingly.
But without losing sight of the ideal God has for all of us.
And without being a patsy, a doormat, or a martyr.
The Removable Self, by Yanki Tauber
A wandering Jew wanders into a small flophouse late one cold and stormy night.
"All full up," says the innkeeper. "Two, three to a bed. Let’s see . . . We’ve got a seven-foot Cossack in one of the cots up on the top floor. You’re kinda small—you can try climbing in beside him."
Thankfully accepting the gracious offer, the wandering Jew climbs the stairs to the garret, but not before asking the innkeeper to wake him well before dawn. "Got a train to catch," he says importantly.
Before he knows it, there’s a hand shaking him awake. "It’s well before dawn," says a voice. "Your train."
He dresses hurriedly in the dark and rushes to the train station. On the way to the platform he passes a large mirror in an ornate frame. A Cossack in uniform looks back at him.
"That idiot innkeeper!" he exclaims in dismay. "He woke up the Cossack instead of the wandering Jew. I’ll never make it back in time to wake myself up in time to catch my train!"
Whoever it was that referred to the human being as "the naked ape" got it all wrong. Man is the only truly clothed creature—a creature who attires him—or herself not only for warmth and protection, but to alter, enhance, even transform, his very identity.
Indeed, the identities we tailor for ourselves have several notable advantages over the inborn variety. They can improve upon our natural self by accentuating our good features, and by de-emphasizing—or even employing to advantage—our less desirable ones. What’s even better is that they’re completely removable: if they don’t wear well, or if they turn out to have been a mistake in the first place, we can replace them with a different set.
Chassidic teaching refers to our faculties of thought, speech and action as the three "garments" of the soul. The areas in which we choose to direct our thoughts, the things we say and the manner in which we say them, and the way that we act towards others and towards ourselves—these are the "clothes" we fashion for our souls.
With these garments, we can project our character and personality in ways that amplify its positive features, subdue its negative ones, and even express a negative trait in a positive way. We dress an abstract feeling in the words "I love you." We cover up animosity with civil behavior. We bundle an overblown ego into the urge to become the biggest donor to charity in the community. And if we find ourselves wearing threadbare ideas or ugly behavior patterns, we remind ourselves that these are just garments: dump them in the hamper and get yourself a more tasteful wardrobe.
Of course, a more basic approach to self-improvement is to improve the "body" of our soul—its character and personality. But it’s a lot easier to buy a nice suit than to go on a diet. Besides, who knows—the sight of your soul in a nice suit might be just the thing to motivate you to get its body in shape.
Hypocrisy? Certainly. Imagine a world in which everyone acted better, holier and more compassionately than they really are. Perhaps what our world needs is some more hypocrisy.
Rabbi Manis Friedman: Existing vs living