The Big Death

For almost 5 months now, I've been slowly reading "The Lucifer Effect" by Philip Zimbardo. I'm usually a fast reader of books, but it is taking me awhile to get through this particular book due to the nature of the content (ie, about how evil can manifest in human behavior). I've always been one driven by curiosity and a strong desire to understand the human condition, even exploring topics most would avoid at all costs because they are too morbid, disturbing, or taboo. Because I consciously take on controversial or taboo subjects in an effort to learn, it's rare for me to become overwhelmed in a mental or emotional capacity. The study of evil, however, is something that is harder for me to embrace so easily.

I remember when I was in high school I had to to read "Lord of the Flies" as a requirement for my English class. Although I read the novel from start to finish, I hated every page of it. I couldn't believe that human beings could have the capacity to be so barbaric towards one another simply because they were stuck on a deserted island, left to their own devices. It seemed nothing more than an overly simplistic plot of absolute savagery, surely not a realistic testament to the capacity for darkness. Or so I thought at the time. I was in high school, young and full of nieve idealism; I held onto the notion of human nature being inherently full of good.

My views have shifted towards that of a more gray area, however, the last 8-9 years. It started at the beginning of my counseling career, interning at a residential facility counseling children who had been physically and/or sexually abused...usually by their own family members. Then it was seeing how nasty and unrecognizable human beings can become when their lives are consumed by substances like heroin and cocaine. While working with addicts in a methadone clinic, one woman with a deranged look in her eye nearly took a violent swing at me when I was only there to help her. Now it is in my work with many survivors of trauma, many of which have been the victims of cruel (but sadly not all that unusual) acts of terror.

It is surreal to both believe that human beings have the capacity for compassion and positive self development while at the same time have the capacity to commit heinous acts against anyone in any given situation...and yet that is exactly what I believe these days. Nothing demonstrates this paradoxical notion so clearly than the film "Suicide Killers" (2006) by filmmaker Pierre Rehov.

I had never heard of the film until it was referenced in "The Lucifer Effect" while discussing the topic of terrorism. I put it on my Netflix and finally watched it tonight. It left me nearly at a loss for words, which is saying something given I usually have a way with words. As a well-educated woman, this film made me aware just how little I actually knew (and probably even more I still don't know) about the power of extreme ideology and the evil it can create. I still can't wrap my head around the magnitude of terrorism that is done for the sake of "the big death" (ie martyrdom and the promise of 72 virgins in everlasting "Paradise").

See the 'synopsis' link on suicidekillers.com for a compelling description of the film. I encourage you to watch this documentary for a multi-faceted look at the psychology of terrorism as you have probably never seen before unless you lived in that cultural environment as a civilian or military personnel. It may make you think twice about human nature....good, evil, or equally capable of both.

City walking

As I walked around Capitol Hill tonight, I got to thinking about the art of walking: how it brings out something in my personality that seems to lay dormant when I simply drive my car every day. Is it just me or is this true for most people?


If you've never had the experience of living in a walkable city (specifically taking public transportation and walking quite a bit as part of your daily ritual), you may not understand what I mean. It's almost as if there's a psychology of walking vs. a psychology of driving in cities....and each one brings out different personality traits, for me anyway. Not that I'm a totally different person, but I feel my persona is different maybe.

When I walk around a city like Seattle, Chicago, or New York City, it's as if all my senses are heightened in some strangely pleasant way. My eyes wander to the roads, the cars, the lights, the sky, people in front/around/behind/beside me, the restaurants, the bars, the street musicians, and the obscure little shops I wouldn't normally stumble across had I been driving. My nose picks up the scent of the cold winter air; my ears tune in to laughter, chatter, fire truck sirens, music spilling out as bar doors open and close. My footsteps happily occupy the sidewalks and crosswalks as my mind wanders further than my feet.

Walking somehow allows my mind freedom to expand, to reflect, to analyze, to ponder, to let go of inhibitions or expectations, to explore, to step outside the box, to feel like a part of the community...to live more in wonder. Walking also jogs my memory, reminding me of people and places from times past. A part of me wonders if I wrote more in Chicago because I walked more than I do in Seattle. Wandering around on foot in a city seems to be good for my spirit.

Driving, however, is more like a chore...it's something I dread doing, but I know it has to be done. It simply gets me from point A to point B. It is the antithesis of walking in almost all aspects. It doesn't encourage me to relax or take in my surroundings. It's the one activity that can get me a little aggressive....which is weird because I'm not usually aggressive at all; driving can bring out the jerk in me. When I drive, the goal is to get where I want to go as fast as possible. I always pay attention to breathtaking sunrises and sunsets when I'm driving, sure, but that's about as far as it goes. There's nothing creative and adventurous going on within me when I drive. In fact, most times I take the same exact driving routes and sometimes get anxiety when there are times I must find my way along confusing streets. It's as if my mind is so attuned to doing pleasant and fun things at a slower pace (while walking) that it will totally pass me by if I'm driving.

As much as my personality is different driving vs. walking, each serve their own purposes and come with their own rewards. When I lived in Chicago, I didn't have a car and so I never had the luxury (or choice) to drive when I wanted to do so. The great thing about living in Seattle is that I do have a car, which means I can have the best of what both walking and driving worlds have to offer.

The living moment

(Photo taken by me, July 2011)

Most of us tend to wake up every day and expect things to be the same they were yesterday, whether that be positive or negative. We live with a false sense of security or mindlessness of wash, rinse, and repeat, going through the motions of day to day living (our comfort zone perhaps?). It can be easy to lose sight of meaning, purpose, and/or gratitude when we're on the proverbial auto-pilot.

But what if tomorrow you woke up with a sense of true wonder instead, not knowing what the day has in store for you? Would you be more grateful for the people in your life and the beauty around you? Would you be more compassionate? More forgiving? More happy? Would you let the little things go? I know I would.

Every moment presents a unique opportunity for mindfulness, peace, and completeness. Yesterday and today have been particularly enriching reminders to me of living in the moment.

I live in a beautiful city, the most beautiful place I've lived thus far...Seattle. Now most mornings I begrudgingly head out to work dreading the rush hour gridlock on I-5. Yesterday morning, however, I couldn't take my eyes off the rays of sun pushing their way through the clouds off in the distant horizon of Bellevue to my left. It's a wonder I didn't get in an accident with how hypnotized I was by the tranquil morning sunrise in my midst. This morning was no exception, as I took in the beauty of mountains as a backdrop to the glow of the sun. How did I get so lucky to see something so gorgeous to start my day, right before my very eyes? Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, tonight I was walking to my car as the sun was setting and I was blown away by a virtual painting in the sky, brushstrokes of cloud lines dappled with patches of pink and purple. A camera could do it no justice.

My mindfulness also extends to relationships....being reminded of how quick things can change with people in our lives, in my own relationships as well as what others tell me of their relationships with partners, family, friends, colleagues...and in my profession, even clients we help. Today a friend of mine shared with me that one of his colleagues that is a year younger than him was suddenly diagnosed with stage 4 cancer....and one of my colleagues today found out suddenly that a client died. Funny enough, a movie I watched tonight also reminded me of this same theme. In "The High Cost of Living" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t1Vc6PfcMs), drug dealer Henry is living a mindless haphazard existence...until suddenly (!) he accidentally hits a pregnant woman with his car one night. I won't say anything more about the movie because it's astounding; you must see for yourself. It couldn't be a more apropos movie to represent what has become a helpful reminder to me not to take the simple (ie, beauty of a sunrise or sunset) nor the complex (ie, people in our lives) for granted.

Suddenly. Suddenly. Suddenly. It can change so fast. We don't expect to get tragic news, nor do we usually expect that the last time we see someone may very well be the last time. Granted, if we took this to the extreme in our lives it may make for a very morbid and paranoid outlook....but taken with a healthy sense of mindfulness and compassion, it can give us the opportunity to live more deeply (and paradoxically, more lightly) and love more fully.

"The living moment is everything." ~D.H. Lawrence