How I beat "meh" and found my mojo
I've never been a great believer in altruism. Carrying out a selfless act makes me feel good - so there is always something in it for me.
Action for Happiness's Altruistic August reminded me of the power of small acts of kindness.
I pinned up the AFH calendar in the kitchen, and enjoyed the daily process of being prompted to take different actions. Some were things I tend to do anyway - such as smiling and engaging with people I encounter, and supporting the natural world. Others were unexpected - such as forgiving someone who hurt me in the past. This took a different sort of altruism, an act of a compassion towards myself. I learnt that I do more than I think I do - not to be self-congratulatory, but in broader recognition that all of us are drawn to help each other in small ways, as part of the basic human contract.
Thinking about leaders that I coach, some are motivated more innately by altruism than others. Using Hogan's psychometric assessment techniques, I have had the chance to look into leaders' brains. One of the parameters in this assessment concerns values and drivers, giving insights into how well individuals fit in certain organisations and industries. There are ten options including power, hedonism and commerce. In every assessment I did for civil service leaders, the driver of altruism featured at or near the top. I am not suggesting that civil servants are innately kinder or more capable of small, daily acts of altruism. But I am interested in the relative ease for some over others of thinking outside of one's self as their default position.
Turning to workplace behaviours, I've learnt from my neuroscience training that it's hard to be altruistic when you're highly stressed. Growth happens under a good level of stress, but too much creates a high level of activity in the amygdala (which scans for threat), and in the release of stress hormones which affect our basic functions (heart rate, breathing). This high-stress state negatively impacts on decision-making and planning as well as reducing our ability to feel empathy towards others. In the workplace, this explains why stressed leaders become less able to look out for others.
So on balance everyone tends to be attuned to look out for others. But even in a world full of the possibility of kindness, it's easy to feel "meh."
There is a flat feeling that can descend on us without warning or any obvious cause. This feeling doesn't have the energy of anger or sorrow. In her recent article, agony aunt Annalisa Barbieri describes it as "a horrible stillness, almost an anti-life quality… like being stuck in a waiting room for ever."
It's exactly the sort of feeling that brings blame and guilt - how can I feel so flat when I am so lucky/ have so much/ live so well when others suffer?
She identifies this as anhedonia - the inability to feel pleasure. It's literally the opposite of hedonia or hedonism which is all about the pleasure path. With it comes a loss of spark or interest in anything much. If you're in this place, life feels muffled, as if your brain is disengaged from your body.
According to Prof Jon Roiser, a neuroscientist at University College London, the main cause of this is inflammation i.e. that sometimes your brain acts as if the body is ill and quietens everything down. From the article, we also learn that the brain is not endlessly capable of producing joy - our neurotransmitters need time to reload. So the endless hits of dopamine we're addicted to experience - through social media hits, shopping clicks, sweet-salty snacks - become meaningless after a while.
Annalisa's conclusion is that it's the small, everyday things that count: being outside in nature; connecting with other people who make you feel good; physical movement. She says "these sound underwhelming, and are the very last things you feel like doing when you are feeling flat or depressed, and yet they are vital: we are social animals built for connection and movement." And in a world when we are so continuously overstimulated, perhaps the underwhelming is what we need.
"Meh" can seem like nothing compared to devastation and loss - yet I've come to realise that that even the worst of situations can be redeemed with small acts of love.
A friend of mine told me a beautiful story about a little bird in a burning forest. Most of the other animals were fleeing, but they dived to the stream, took a beakful of water, and flew back to drop it over the flames. They repeated this over and over. After a while, the fox sneered: "And you really think you can put out the fire all by yourself?" "No, the little bird replied. But I will do my share, because every effort is essential."
This tale reminds me of the tangle of things I've internalised that seem contradictory. It's important to have a clear sense of direction and purpose, and also to be in the moment. It's important not to sweat the small stuff, and also to focus only on the things I can control. How can I simultaneously think big and strategically to plan for my future, while appreciating what I have today? And how can I avoid getting bogged down in small actions when these are the only things I have control over? The story illustrates for me how we can all find a way to get to what really matters. The little bird can only contribute in tiny trickles, and it's worth it to save the forest. When the chips are down, it's all about the small stuff that you can control - and turning to this in the moment is what helps you achieve your bigger purpose.
Nick Cave puts this brilliantly. In a recent interview, he talked about how he used to play fast and loose with life, even holding it in contempt. It took the devastating loss of his two sons to reveal the precariousness of the world, and to find hope. The way he explains what really matters brings a lump to my throat: “Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned, makes demands upon us, and can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position — it is adversarial. It is the warrior emotion that can lay waste to cynicism. Each redemptive or loving act, as small as you like — such as reading to your little boy, showing him something you love, singing him a song, or putting on his shoes — keeps the devil down in the hole.” At rock bottom, all we have is seemingly insignificant acts of love towards our fellows.
I started off my foray into Altruistic August expecting a few more hits of dopamine through being nice. What I now appreciate is that occupying these small acts is to reach deeper into the human condition. I've learnt:
How simple it is in practice to behave selflessly towards others - and myself
That altruism in the workplace can be easily come by in terms of core drivers, but also fragile under pressure in everyday relationships
To embrace the small stuff even more tightly as the stakes get higher
In Annalisa's words "the meaning of life is that it has to have meaning" - and I have found that we all have the power to create this daily for ourselves and others.