Self-Distancing

 What It Is and How You Can Use It to Make Better Decisions

It’s hard to set your emotions aside when you’re faced with a difficult decision. 

This is problematic, since our emotions often cause us to make the wrong decision in important areas of life, including in our relationships, our finances, and our health.

In general, most people find that setting these emotions aside can be rather difficult when it comes time to make a decision. However, by using a few simple self-distancing techniques, you can significantly reduce the impact of these emotions, in a way that will enable you to make better decisions.

In the following article, you will learn more about the concept of self-distancing, understand why it’s beneficial, and see what you can do in order to implement self-distancing techniques in situations where you need them.

 What is self-distancing

Self-distancing is the act of increasing the distance from your own egocentric perspective when assessing events and emotions that you experience. 

Based on this concept, there are two main perspectives that people use when assessing situations:

Self-distanced perspective. 

A self-distanced perspective is an external perspective that you can use when thinking about an event that you’ve experienced, where the self who is analyzing the event is considered to be distinct from the self who experienced it. For example, a self-distanced perspective is the perspective that you use when you ask yourself “why did you just do that?”.

Self-immersed perspective. 

A self-immersed perspective is an internal perspective that you can also use when thinking about an event that you’ve experienced, where the self who is analyzing the event is considered to be identical to the self who experienced it. For example, a self-immersed perspective is the perspective that you use when you ask yourself “why did I just do that?”.

 

Examples of self-distancing

“I didn’t want to make an emotional decision. I wanted to do what was best for LeBron James and what would make him happy.”

— Basketball player LeBron James describing his decision to leave his old team.

A good example of how people can use self-distancing appears in a study that examined people’s self-talk mechanism, which is a form of intrapersonal communication that people use when they think (i.e. their inner monologue).

The researchers’ starting point was that you can promote self-distance during times of introspection, by using the second-person pronoun (“you”) or by using your own name (e.g. “John”) when thinking about yourself, instead of using the first-person pronoun (“I”).

This concept is based on construal level theory, which suggests that creating psychological distance in one domain can promote psychological distance in other domains, so that increasing people’s psychological distance from a certain event by changing their linguistic self-distance could affect how close they feel to that event from an emotional perspective.

Based on this, the researchers asked the participants in their experiment to recall two personal experiences, one of which was anger-related and one of which was anxiety-related. 

There were two groups of participants:

• Participants in the first group were instructed to think about themselves in the first person. This means, for example, that participants in this group would ask themselves “why did I feel this way?”.
• Participants in the second group were instructed to think about themselves using second-person pronouns or using their own name. This means, for example, that participants in this group would ask themselves “why did you feel this way?” or “why did Jane feel this way?”.

The researchers then measured participants’ self-distance during their recollection of their past experiences. What they found was that the simple change in perception allowed participants to increase their emotional self-distance when considering these events.

Essentially, when people referred to themselves in the second-person or using their own name, they were able to improve their ability to detach emotionally from the situation. This improvement is important, because increasing emotional self-distance has been shown to have several important benefits, as we will see in the next section.

 

The benefits of self-distancing

Research has shown that using self-distancing techniques can be beneficial in several ways.

First, as we saw in the example above, self-distancing can help people cope with difficult events from their past. This is in line with other research on the topic, which shows that self-distancing can decrease the duration of negative emotions and help reduce aggressive thoughts and angry feelings. 

Furthermore, self-distancing can also help people deal with socially distressful situations, even when those people are naturally prone to social anxiety. 

Moreover, increased self-distance can improve people’s access to emotion regulation strategies, which in turn can lead to other benefits, such as a reduction in depressive symptoms.

Part of this is attributed to the fact self-distancing encourages people to engage in adaptive self-reflection, which allows them to handle difficult emotions in a positive manner. This is contrasted with using a self-immersed perspective, which often leads to maladaptive self-reflection, which involves, for example, the tendency to obsessively ruminate over past events.

Another advantage of using self-distancing is related to people’s wise reasoning, which is the ability to do things such as recognize the limits of your knowledge and remember the importance of being willing to compromise.

Specifically, people tend to display high levels of wise reasoning when they give advice to others, but not when they decide how to act themselves. However, when people use self-distancing techniques, by asking themselves what kind of advice they would give to a friend if they were in the same situation, people are able to reduce this asymmetry in their insights, and apply the same reasoning skills to their own dilemmas as they would to those of others. 

As one book on the topic states:

“The advice we give others, then, has two big advantages: It naturally prioritizes the most important factors in the decision, and it downplays short-term emotions. That’s why, in helping us to break a decision logjam, the single most effective question may be: What would I tell my best friend to do in this situation?”

— From “Decisive: How to Make Better Choices in Life and Work“

Finally, increasing self-distance also has direct benefits when it comes to improving people’s decision-making ability, since self-distancing has been shown to reduce decisional biases under a variety of conditions, and to improve decision-making during times of information overload. 

This can be attributed to the fact that a self-centered, egocentric mindset makes people more likely to use a “hot” and emotional reasoning process, from a cognitive perspective, while a self-distanced, ego-decentered mindset makes people more likely to use a “cold” and rational reasoning process.

Overall, research shows that smart implementation of self-distancing techniques has numerous benefits. These include, among others, an improved ability to cope with negative emotions, an improved ability to cope with stressful situations, and an improved ability to make rational decisions.

 

How to create self-distance

There are various techniques that you can use in order to increase your psychological self-distance.

First, as we saw earlier, you can use self-distancing language, by referring to yourself in the second or third person in your internal monologue. 

For example, this means that when faced with a difficult decision, instead of asking yourself 

“why am I worried about this?” 

you should ask yourself

“why are you worried about this?”.

You can also increase your self-distance by trying to view the situation from an alternative viewpoint, that is different from your own. 

For example, if you got into a fight with someone, you could try to consider what the fight looked like not only from your own perspective, but also from the perspective of the other person, or from the perspective of a neutral external observer.

Furthermore, in some cases, when deciding what to do, you can also try to visualize the perspective of an exemplar, which is someone you admire, and then ask yourself what would they do in that situation.

In addition, you can ask yourself what advice you would give to someone else—especially a friend—if they were in your situation.

Finally, you can also create self-distance through other methods, such as expressive writing, which involves writing about your thoughts and feelings when you’re trying to analyze an event that you’ve experienced.

Overall, there are many techniques that you can use to increase your self-distance, in order to help yourself make more rational decisions. 

The two most notable techniques for this involve using self-distancing language in your inner monologue, or visualizing other people’s perspective when analyzing events that you’ve experienced.

 

Summary and Conclusions

 

1. Self-distancing involves increasing the psychological distance from your own self-centered perspective when assessing events that you experience.
2. Self-distancing allows you to detach yourself from emotional situations, which can help you cope with negative emotions, such as stress and anger.
3. Self-distancing can also help you to make more rational decisions, and encourage you to use effective reasoning skills when deciding how to act.
4. You can create self-distance by modifying the language that you use during times of introspection, and specifically by referring to yourself in the second or third person (e.g. “what should you do?” or “what should John do?”) instead of using the first-person pronoun (e.g. “what should I do?”).
5. You can also create self-distance by considering events from an external perspective that is different than your own, such as the perspective of a person that you were talking to, or the perspective of an external observer who watched an interaction that you were involved in.

Itamar Shatz

Pixabay 

Self-distancing 

is one of the most important 

meta-skills you can master in life.

It can help you:

1. become more empathetic
2. reduce conflict with people you care about
3. problem-solve thorny issues
4. enhance your long-term growth

Self-distancing is an umbrella term for any practice that helps you to mentally 'step outside of yourself' so that you're choosing your next action, instead of just reacting. It means you gain the perspective to look at a reflection and advise accordingly, rather than being submerged in a spiral of your own thoughts and emotions.

As Holocaust survivor and author of Man's Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl points out,

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Different practices of self-distancing provide that space.

Here are a few different ways to master this approach:

Adopt someone else's viewpoint. 

"How would I see this situation if I were x? What might make them think like this?" This is particularly useful when you disagree with someone. If you can see the bigger picture from someone else's perspective and aren't just limited to your narrow worldview, you are far more likely to find the nuance and shades of gray that might actually be useful in the conversation. Perspective-taking is a game changer.

Pause before you respond. 

A literal breath or countdown or moment of reflection before a reaction. This is a muscle that meditation helps to build, but it can also be as simple as "I take 5 seconds to myself before responding in heated conversations." Arguments with my younger brother (about anything and to this day) continue to be a wonderful place to practice this skill.A pause increases your chances of choosing a thoughtful response, or at least lowers the intensity of any emotion. Even if it's only a few seconds, patience creates distance. Distance creates the power to choose.

Practice active listening. 

By concentrating on someone else to hear what's actually being said, not just the emotion behind it, you are turning down your own 'self' to understand someone else's perspective. You don't have to agree, but listening validates others' feelings and bridges communication gaps. By hearing what someone other than you is saying (not just waiting for your turn to speak), listening becomes the foundation of shared understanding.

Create regular moments of reflection. 

Regardless of the format, find spaces in your life to consider what is going well and what could be improved. Record a voice memo. Write it down. By having space to think and forcing yourself to put it down in a format where you can see it or hear it outside the walls of your mind, you turn your thoughts into something just in front of you, as opposed to an endless spiral. You are putting limits around this 'thing', which grants you the power to wrestle with it, and decide if it's true or if it still serves you. That is how you encourage continuous learning. That is how reflection becomes a pathway to growth.

Self-distancing isn't just about seeing things from a new angle; it's a practice of transformation. Transformation from a mind trapped by your thoughts to one that chooses intention and deliberation in line with what matters most to you and who you most wish to be in the world.

By adopting another's viewpoint, pausing before reacting, practicing active listening, and reflecting regularly, you arm yourself with tools for profound wisdom.

These strategies allow us to act with intention rather than react out of habit. 

They give us the power to shape our responses and, by extension, our relationships and our growth.

Danny Kenny

Master The Art Of Being Alone

Loneliness and depression 

can take a toll on an 

individual, spiritually, physically, 

mentally, and emotionally.

So we should take precautions to avoid such feelings.

Out of the mental and emotional tunnel that keeps you engaged in the vice of your choice.

The vice that keeps your days in a predictable loop of instant gratification and little to no success in your endeavors.

The tunnel that traps the progress you make toward your goals, and damages the relationships you hold dear.

We understand in these states of mind distancing yourself can feel most beneficial to you.

Not wanting to wake up in the morning, almost as if you are confused as to why you are still here.

Neglecting yourself with either your poor eating habits or decision-making.

The feeling of unworthiness to life's blessings, this sorrowful feeling of being left out.

​If not attended to these negative feelings can lay root in your mind and unfortunately become completely permanent.

Today, we are going to give you 7 healthy ways the Stoics mastered the art of being alone.

This way, you can grow closer to yourself, and overcome the darkness of this world's influences.

​

7 Stoic Ways:

1. Be Your Own Host - The purpose of this principle is to create mental resilience in the face of challenge and negative self-talk. Being alone can be daunting, and open your mind to endless thoughts. But running from them will not benefit you.

​

Being alone allows you to become aware of your inner narrative, and gently guide it to more constructive and compassionate conversation.

​

2. Realizing We Are Always Connected - Solitude often carries the weight of loneliness, yet it holds the power to connect us deeply to the world around us. The secret isn't in filling every empty moment with distractions, but in understanding that being alone offers a unique opportunity to connect with oneself and the universe.

​

3. Sit With It - Whenever the silence becomes too loud, sit with it. Embracing solitude isn't only a necessity, it's an art. You must face the part of yourself that you continuously run from.

​

• The fears.
• The Insecurities.
• The dreams you are too afraid to chase.

​

Cultivating a friendship with solitude doesn't mean you're shutting out the world, it means exploring the world within.

​

4. Chase Your Dreams - Being alone isn't just about solitude. It's about discovering a path where dreams are not just mere thoughts, but achievable destinations.

​

Ever wonder why the silence of your own company can feel louder than the most loudest parties?

​

It's because, in those quiet moments, the voice that guides you toward your truest desires becomes audible the moment you start to realize that following the crowd often leads us away from our own unique journey.

​

5. Explore Nature - There's an old saying that goes, nature does not hurry yet everything is accomplished. Sometimes the world around us can feel as though it's moving too fast leaving you craving solitude but not knowing how to embrace it.

​

Being alone doesn't have to invoke loneliness or boredom, instead picture it as an invitation to explore nature and reconnect with yourself amidst the tranquility of nature. This journey of solitude isn't about escaping life, but more about discovering a deeper understanding.

​

6. Create - Solitude is your greatest ally in the circumstance of the creative process. Using the silence to adhere to your creative ability. Though you may even believe you are not creative, chances are you haven't given yourself enough time in solitude to allow your mind to roam further into creative thoughts and ideas.

​

The act of creation is transformative. It's a conversation with the deepest part of who you are. With each creation, you are building a bridge between your inner world, and the reality you inhabit.

​

7. Engage In Self-Reflection And Journaling - The journey of solitude is not only about spending time in isolation but engaging in a reflective dialogue with yourself.

​

Marcus Aurelius was not only a timeless emperor, but a man who turned his reflections into a timeless guide.

​

What if your thoughts and reflections can also serve as your guide? This isn't about crafting perfect prose, but about pouring out your thoughts and learning from them.

​

The simple act of journaling can unlock doors within you that you never realized existed.

​

​

in,The Stoic Community 

Confissão do fugitivo

 

Jon Shireman

Só sou feliz partindo.

Não entre quatro paredes, à mercê das espadas,

mas entre aqui e ali, uma e outra casa,

ambas de preferência alheias.

Já não posso, nem quero, estar quieto.

Nem agora nem depois. Nem aqui nem ali.

Em todo caso aí, onde tu estás,

seja tu quem fores, põe o teu nome

nos meus lábios sedentos, insaciáveis.

Eu não sou eu nem posso ter casa.

Não digo já porque foi sempre assim,

nunca a tive, sempre fui estrangeiro

dentro e fora de mim. Sou o que sou:

o mendigo que dorme debaixo da ponte

que une as minhas duas margens e que cruzo

dia e noite sem poder deter-me.

Escrevo porque procuro, porque espero.

Mas já não sei o quê, perdeu-se na memória.

Espero que escrevendo

acabe por lembrar-me. Insisto na intempérie.

Sobrevivo entre parêntesis

no espaço vivo e no tempo morto

da espera de que, entre dois aquis.

Nunca em mas entre. sai de mim,

sejas quem fores, deixa-me em paz

ou acaba já comigo e com o mel

amargo de estar só a falar só.

Decidi que a minha pátria seja

não decidir, não estar em nenhum sítio

mas de passagem, pontes, naves, comboios,

onde eu seja só o passageiro

que sei que sou, sentindo

que me inquieta a paz,

que a quietude me assusta,

que a segurança não me interessa,

que só sou feliz quando me sei fugaz.

Juan Vicente Piqueras

Searching for Connection in a Disconnected Era

 

If it feels harder than ever to connect to others, you are not imagining things.

We are living through a “metacrisis”—a convergence of social, political, technological, and economic upheavals that have fundamentally altered the way we process the world around us as well as how we relate to one another.

 

LONELINESS & THE METACRISIS

Loneliness is at an all-time high, with Americans spending 99 more minutes alone each day than we did two decades ago.

Digital tools, once designed to connect us, now mediate nearly every aspect of our lives, replacing presence with convenience and spontaneity with predictability.

Dating, once a social experience shaped by mutual discovery, has become an exercise in efficiency, what sociologist Eva Illouz calls “romantic consumerism”—an endless optimization game that often reduces us to commodities, swiped and sorted by algorithms.

The metacrisis amplifies these effects, with the constant background noise of societal instability making it even harder to trust, to risk, to hope. The questions we ask ourselves have taken on a survivalist tilt, not just “Can I see a future with this person?” but also “Do I want to navigate the apocalypse with them?” 

 

WHAT IF WE’RE NOT AS ALONE AS WE FEEL?

While these experiences and feelings are real, there is a fallacy underlying many of our biggest fears around finding connection in a disconnected world.

Though it may feel like the apocalypse . . . 

• What if it’s not? 
• What if this period of global instability, climate crisis, and more is not the actual end of the world? 
• What if friendship and falling in love, despite it all, is still worth it? 
• What if connection is what helps us survive these rapidly shifting times?

Amid the chaos of the metacrisis, our longing for each other remains unwavering. 

It is precisely in this challenging terrain that the opportunity for deep, meaningful connection arises—not despite the difficulty, but because of it.

Consider the following:

• Human connection is not dependent on an internet connection. 
• Connection is not a transaction; it’s a vibrational field we can tap into on a daily basis in the most mundane of circumstances.
• Practicing small acts of connection with family, friends, colleagues, classmates, and perfect strangers is the key to building back the social muscles we need to navigate crises.
• These social muscles are the same ones that help us reconnect with long lost friends, cool the heat of conflict, maintain our curiosity about those who are different from us, and invite someone on a date (even the partner you already have).

This mindset is essential for discovering that we are not as alone as we feel; that we are not beholden to the social systems and software draining our life force.

 

SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL INTERACTIONS CREATE JOY.

Journalist Derek Thompson, in a recent interview with Nicholas Epley, a professor of behavioral science at the University of Chicago, confirmed that we consistently underestimate the joy we experience from spontaneous social interactions. 

Talking to a stranger on the train, making eye contact with a person in a café, engaging in conversation at the bookstore—these small moments shift our perception of the world and our place within it.

The loneliness we feel is a product of a culture that excessively focuses on the self. 

But it’s also a consequence of the ways we’ve learned to guard ourselves from discomfort and vulnerability. 

Connection and community save us. 

Let’s practice it, not as a rare event but as an ongoing practice of engagement. 

Even for the most introverted among us—perhaps especially so—our well-being is dependent on the small, bold act of saying hello. 

Let’s Turn the Lens on You

 

Try the following simple exercise inspired by Nicholas Epley’s research: 

1. Start one conversation with someone you don’t usually speak to—a barista, a fellow commuter, a neighbor, or even a stranger in line.
2. Keep it simple. A warm greeting, a lighthearted comment, or a genuine question is all it takes. (Easy mode: “I like your sweater.” A level up: “What’s been the highlight of your day?”)
3. Observe the impact. How did you feel after the interaction? Did the other person respond positively? Did your mood shift? Consider writing down or recording a voice memo, just for yourself, about the experience.
4. If you like the exercise, keep going. Consider making it a daily or weekly practice. 

Esther Perel

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A Voiceless Cry

Photoplotnikov

The sound of green footsteps is the rain

They're coming in from the road, now

Thirsty souls and dusty skirts brought from the desert

Their breath burning, mirage-mingled

Mouths dry and caked with dust

They're coming in from the road, now

Tormented-bodied, girls brought up on pain

Joy departed from their faces

Hearts old and lined with cracks

No smile appears on the bleak oceans of their lips

Not a tear springs from the dry riverbeds of their eyes

O God!

Might I not know if their voiceless cries reach the clouds,

the vaulted heavens?

The sound of green footsteps is the rain.

Nadia Anjuman

Starting Again

How quickly priorities can change. 

New year, new me! Lose 10 pounds! Find a job I can be more passionate about! Learn how to cook! The typical list goes on. Lists like this are made when we have the mental and emotional bandwidth to make them. This rarely extends to times of crises, where all of our faculties for problem-solving become trained on just getting through.

In just a couple of days, due to wildfires in Los Angeles, 30,000 people went from “new year, new me!” to new year, no home. Many people who built their homes themselves. People who raised families. Invested everything. All gone. 

Additional people were forced to evacuate and decide what to take with them. (For some context on the true magnitude of these fires, the burned area is 1.5 times larger than Paris, and nearly 2.75 times the size of Manhattan.)

A day into the fires, I spoke with a friend of mine who, along with his family, is now in a rental property, wondering where they will live this year. They have children whose schools have burned down, a community whose physical nucleus no longer exists, and have lost no small part of their life savings. Even if they were to return to their neighborhood, there’s no “neighborhood” to return to. 

He said to me: 

“It’s not just the homes. It’s hard to grasp, but the entire neighborhood where we have all lived is gone. The schools are gone. The shops. The markets. The library. The parks. There is nothing left. It doesn’t compute because we can only imagine a building or a house burning down. Not all of them.”

Audrey and I were among the lucky ones not forced to evacuate. Nonetheless, the fires came too close for comfort, and like so many others, we were placed on a “red flag warning,” and readied a bag in case we needed to go at a moment’s notice.

 It’s a nice idea that this moment is a clarifying one, forcing us to instinctively laser in on the things that really matter. Not for me. I didn’t know what to pack. My laptop comes with me everywhere anyway, as does my passport. Many inexpensive things that matter to me emotionally are sprinkled all over the house, so I really didn’t know which ones to take. Audrey wanted to take a little set of wooden penguins my mum bought for us, which was kind of funny (save the penguins!) I have a little pin from Disneyland Audrey bought me once, which has Disney’s Hercules on it and says “Go the distance,” but that comes with me everywhere too. 

So what to take? I really don’t know. 

Perhaps because I’ve had the experience of losing everything before, I’ve never let myself get too attached to the stuff I accumulate over time. (Though let’s be clear, I am attached to the many years of work it took to buy our home. I think people forget that when they say things like, “It’s only money.” It’s so flippant. 

For people who didn’t start with money, losing money isn’t just losing money—it’s losing all the time that was sacrificed to accumulate it in the first place. Time one cannot get back.)

 

As a brief aside, this friend of mine I spoke of above recently told me he and his brother were cleaning out their mum’s house after she passed. She had kept everything her whole life. And I mean everything. It had all felt so important to her. And it was. But to him? To his kids? Did they really need his and his brother’s baby teeth that she’d kept? Did anybody? Did they have a place for all the knickknacks, the furniture that meant something to her? 

They got rid of 95% of it. He joked to me that “no one in the future is going to decide they need to open a museum of my mother.” 

He’s right! And there’ll likely never be a museum dedicated to you or me either 100 years from now. Sorry. The stuff we accumulate will eventually just not matter. (Kind of liberating, no?)

 

Anyway, back to the fires. 

When we make our grand plans for the year, we rarely assume that a day later, we might be discussing such things. Our plans usually assume the year will remain typical. Often, when I plan out my days (though I’ve gotten better at this), my plans assume I will be operating at optimal efficiency, with zero unintended interruptions. I rarely have such days, and probably, neither do you.

In reality, there are always bumps in the road, challenges that divert us from our plans, and sometimes, whether literal or metaphorical, catastrophic wildfires. Sam Harris, who incidentally was one of those evacuated by the fires, once said: 

“If you think things can’t get any worse, that’s just a failure of imagination.”

This phrase has always been a kind of morbid comfort to me any time I find myself complaining about something I disapprove of, like a pulled hamstring, an overwhelmingly busy workweek, or a difficult relationship (no, not you, Audrey).

Well, that phrase was fully substantiated last week, by people whose imaginations could not have conceived of the extent of the damage that was done to their city and their life in the space of 48 hours and beyond. And yet, the phrase remains true. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to consider how things might have been worse, had people’s family members or pets been inside, which in some tragic instances, they were. 

This, however, is absolutely not something that is helpful to point out to someone who is newly traumatized by such a staggering loss: “At least you’re still alive!” This has been given a name—toxic positivity—and, sadly, too often it takes the place of listening to someone and connecting with them in their pain.

 

For those of us living in LA, there’s something deeply disconcerting about this whole thing—how damn out of control it makes us all feel now that we are educated on how, exactly, this kind of thing happened in the first place:

OK, so let me get this straight . . . it just needs to not rain for several months, be especially windy, and some fires need to start, and a firestorm could send flaming embers flying miles in every direction, starting fires at a scale no municipal firefighting service, no matter how well-funded, could possibly be equipped to handle? Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, mm-hmm . . . right. So what you’re saying is, none of us have been safe this whole time, and there’s nothing you can tell us that “really” means we are safe here in the future? OK, got it.

This isn’t the kind of reassurance we like to have as human beings. 

It makes us feel out of control in a way that shakes us to our core. 

“What do you mean it could all just end at any moment? 

That can’t be right. We have self-driving cars but you can’t save my house from burning down?”

I believe that for many, the finger-pointing that occurs after a situation like this is a reflection of this shocking and unwelcome encounter with the feeling of being totally out of control.

 

In her 1992 book Trauma and Recovery, which synthesizes clinical and social insights into the aftermath of trauma on its victims, Judith L. Herman writes:

 

"To imagine one may have done better may be more tolerable than to face the reality of utter helplessness."

 

So what can we do in the face of utter helplessness, or total loss? 

Well, one thing I know is that in the times when I’ve experienced massive, seemingly intolerable setbacks in life, I survive by resetting my baseline. 

I adjust my starting point to where I actually am now, instead of where I thought I was before the cataclysm hit.

As an example, someone I know came to me for advice in a bitterly acrimonious divorce whereby in her 50s, she was losing half of her savings to a narcissistic husband, who had never worked, nor contributed to raising their children, but now demanded every penny he could get. She had to sell the house she loved to pay him what he demanded, move to a part of the city she didn’t want to live in, and face a future where she would no longer be able to retire when she’d hoped.

I told her that continuing to compare where she is now to where she thought she was financially before the divorce was a recipe for misery. 

Instead, she had to mentally reset her starting point to where she actually was today, and then build from there. Only then could she feel the satisfaction of making progress again. 

This wasn’t positive talk. It came from hard-won experience.

 

The second survival strategy in times like this is 

to remind ourselves that there are certain life-giving things that haven’t been taken away. 

Whether it’s the friends who love us, the community we’ve built, or simply the fact that we are still breathing and have the ability to go forward and make an impact in our own little way, we can remind ourselves of the profound things that remain with us, or within us.

 

But there is a simple, natural, and beautiful survival strategy I’m seeing all over LA right now. 

People are talking. 

This seems to be because we collectively have something non-trivial to talk about—a socially acceptable pain, a shared reference point of grief, sympathy, and worry.

Friends who haven’t spoken in months or years are reaching out to each other. 

For my part, it’s even reconnected me with friends I haven’t exchanged words with in years who live halfway across the world, but wanted to check in on me. 

But it’s not just friends. People in coffee shops are chatting who would normally keep to themselves. There’s something bizarrely cozy about it. Like we are all huddled together talking about this thing that’s happened. There seem to be fewer strangers around.

It makes me a little sad for everyday life when a natural disaster isn’t happening, because in many ways, there’s no less pain on those days. On any given day, we all walk around with our own localized, individualized, hidden sources of pain that sit right beneath the surface, begging for solace and connection. Most days, we neither feel entitled, nor courageous enough, to allow people access to these parts of ourselves. Others, feeling the same instincts, give us the impression of having none of these challenges of their own.

 

I just watched the Avicii documentary and was reminded of how even a world-famous DJ who appears to be on the top of the world can be on the brink of their own internal natural disaster without even the people closest to them realizing it. By the accounts of his friends, he seemed to be in good spirits on his way to an adventurous trip to Oman, where it would later be discovered he took his own life. 

Depression, trauma, anxiety, and fear can be just as devastating to our individual worlds as anything that happens on the outside.

 

In a call for support to his contact list this week, a friend of mine signed off an email by saying: 

“In LA, a lot of people need each other right now.”

He’s right. But isn’t that also true of everyone, all the time?

You don’t need to be in LA right now for this to be true in your life. 

Someone you know is going through a devastating heartbreak right now, whether you know about it or not. Someone is having anxiety about their health, or is experiencing a chronic pain they are afraid is never going to go away, or thinking about an ex they fear they will never get over, or questioning their worth, or feeling lonely and isolated in ways they’ll never admit on social media. Maybe that someone is you.

None of us should wait for the next natural disaster to talk to each other. 

Huddle up, and let’s talk.

Key Takeaways

1. In the times when I’ve experienced massive, seemingly intolerable setbacks in life, I survive by resetting my baseline. I adjust my starting point to where I actually am now, instead of where I thought I was before the cataclysm hit.

2. In times like these, we can remember that there are certain life-giving things that haven’t been taken away. Whether it’s the friends who love us, the community we’ve built, or simply the fact that we are still breathing and have the ability to go forward and make an impact in our own little way, we can remind ourselves of the profound things that remain with us, or within us.

3. Depression, trauma, anxiety, and fear can be just as devastating to our individual worlds as anything that happens on the outside.

4. None of us should wait for the next natural disaster to talk to each other. Huddle up, and let’s talk.

What About You?

Is there someone you can reach out to in your life to see how they’re doing? 

Those check-ins often mean more than we realize. 

And what of your own situation could you share with someone today that you might have normally kept to yourself?

You sharing it could not only help you receive more support, but also give someone the invitation they need to share more of themselves. 

Matthew Hussey

O barbeiro

 

Motion Mídia

Nos últimos meses, olhava-se no espelho

e via um intruso. Irritava-se com ele.

Já estás aqui outra vez? Será possível?

Sai daqui agora mesmo.

Para a rua, vagabundo, dizia-lhe.

Era-lhe doloroso, era-nos doloroso,

toda vez que ele tinha que ir ao banheiro.

Tínhamos que conduzi-lo pelo braço, convence-lo

do porquê.

Ele se tornou o dono desse lugar, dizia,

quem lhe deu as chaves?

Pouco a pouco o do espelho tornou-se mais um em casa.

Chamava-lhe o barbeiro.

Em vão, diziam-lhe que aquele homem era ele.

Eu nunca tentei porque sabia

que aquele homem era outra pessoa,

que em seu delírio ele tinha razão.

Pouco a pouco fomo-nos resignando

à invasão do barbeiro.

Uma noite, ao sair do banheiro, deixou a luz acesa.

Quando minha mãe lhe disse: Deixaste a luz acesa, ele respondeu:

Deixa-o, ele está lá dentro, o que podemos fazer?

Meu pai compreendeu que o barbeiro, o intruso,

tinha vindo busca-lo.

Agora o está barbeando naquela barbearia

que há sempre do outro lado do espelho.

E de lá me olham, sorriem para mim,

me esperam.

Juan Vicente Piqueras

Ninguém nos ensinou a...

De forjados princípios nos fomos criando grandes em tamanho e diminutos em poder e capacidades reais. Foram-nos passadas as bases sólidas para os passos futuros e, no cômputo geral, apreendemos o mais importante na mescla de princípios familiares, religiosos, sociais e quejandos.

Falaram-nos muito de pecados e nada de como se limpa isso, além de ninguém ter explicado o que é isso de pecado e porque é que o Carpinteiro falou em atirar pedras. Contaram-nos a história da outra face mas ninguém nos disse quando parar de a dar; bem como essa coisa de orgulho…e da ira divina…e dos infernos…e do bom nome…etc.

Chegamos a jovens adultos com uma pasta cheia de papelada com rabiscados princípios e ao entrarmos em contacto com a sociedade onde nos inserimos por labuta profissional e diárias deambulações, começamos a perceber que fomos enganados por alguém…ou por muitos alguéns.

Sim, claro, a teoria lê-se muito bem mas, no primeiro percalço percebemos que nos socorremos de uma mão cheia de nada…damos a face mais vezes que o bom senso dita, desviamo-nos constantemente das tais pedras do julgamento e o orgulho quebra-nos mais pernas que as quedas da bicicleta.

Ninguém nos ensinou a amar desalmadamente, sem perguntas nem questões, para que pudéssemos irradiar essa energia de tal forma forte que nunca conheceríamos o significado do julgamento, nem da necessidade de pensar em dar ou não as várias faces.

Ninguém nos disse que este caminho teria todo o tipo de pessoas e que poderíamos apenas atrair aquelas que achássemos necessárias para a nossa aprendizagem, bem como os mestres que nos ensinassem a recordar quem realmente somos.

Ninguém nos ensinou a olhar para além da flor que cresce no jardim, nem da árvore onde um dia se pendurou o nosso baloiço….olhar para a vida que ali contida nos pode reforçar e atenuar ânimos.

E, também, ninguém nos disse que um dia amaríamos com toda a nossa alma e isso nos faria bem se não carregássemos o medo da perda.

Esta falta de informação fez com que deambulássemos como principiantes em busca dos princípios de vida que realmente nos conduziram até aqui e, assim, acabámos por nos reinventar várias vezes, no entanto, fazendo as contas a tudo, até não foi mau porque acabámos por compilar um livrinho simples e fino com tudo o que é essencial.

Caminhamos com pouco peso...basta-nos o coração!


Alexandre Viegas

New Year’s Morning

Only a night from old to new!

Only a night, and so much wrought!

The Old Year's heart all weary grew,

But said: "The New Year rest has brought."

The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,

As in a grave; but, trusting, said:

"The blossoms of the New Year's crown

Bloom from the ashes of the dead."

The Old Year's heart was full of greed;

With selfishness it longed and ached,

And cried: "I have not half I need.

My thirst is bitter and unslaked.

But to the New Year's generous hand

All gifts in plenty shall return;

True love it shall understand;

By all my failures it shall learn.

I have been reckless; it shall be

Quiet and calm and pure of life.

I was a slave; it shall go free,

And find sweet peace where I leave strife."

Only a night from old to new!

Never a night such changes brought.

The Old Year had its work to do;

No New Year miracles are wrought.

Always a night from old to new!

Night and the healing balm of sleep!

Each morn is New Year's morn come true,

Morn of a festival to keep.

All nights are sacred nights to make

Confession and resolve and prayer;

All days are sacred days to wake

New gladness in the sunny air.

Only a night from old to new;

Only a sleep from night to morn.

The new is but the old come true;

Each sunrise sees a new year born.

Helen Hunt Jackson

On the fear of aging

 

Vejaa

In January many of us feel the pressure to set some kind of goal or intention for the year. 

But in doing so we rarely address the real challenge that’s keeping us pinned where we are—our deeper wiring. 

A calendar change isn’t enough to reset old patterns, self-sabotage, and doubt.

What if instead of making a superficial decision around what you wanted to achieve this year, you made a promise to yourself that this would forever be the year you changed the underlying belief systems that have been governing your whole life when it comes to YOUR 3 Relationships—your relationship with yourself, others, and life? 

 

On getting a year older

Never once did I watch the iconic helicopter scene in the film Jurassic park without my mum remarking on the fact that it was shot in Kauai, Hawaii, and that it had always been her dream to go. We resolved this dream be put off no longer, and off we went. 

One of the most remarkable moments of our trip so far, aside from seeing two humpback whales leap out of the pacific ocean, took place during a conversation we were having in the swimming pool.

 

The sun was beating down on what should have been a frosty New Years eve in England, but instead was the bright green and blue coastline of Wailea, Maui. Amidst the faint sound of a ukulele playing somewhere (there’s always a ukelele playing somewhere here), and a warm coconut sunscreen-infused breeze, the subject turned to getting older.

I had read some comments from people for whom the new year had ignited their fears around aging: the possibility of irrelevance; the notion of losing their looks; the gall of being asked their age on a date.

My mum (Pauline), it turns out, had a lot to say on the matter. 

What she said was both profound and powerful. 

I wish you could have been there. She spoke with the wisdom of someone who was truly done with worrying about such a thing.

First she let us know that she herself had no plans of becoming invisible with age (to know my mum is to understand that such a thing would be impossible). She also reminded us that in certain cultures in the East, age was held with a kind of reverence, not embarrassment—where the accretion of years was something that garnered respect. If you’d reach a certain age you knew a thing or two, and should be listened to.

But there was one particular thing she said that hasn’t left my mind since, and made me want to write to you this week. 

She recalled how her own mum passed around the age she is now (mid-60s, which she wouldn’t mind at all me telling you).

She expressed how lucky she feels to have every extra day her own mother never had. When she sees another wrinkle on her own face or body, my mum can’t help but be grateful for what that wrinkle represents: the fact that she’s still here.

This idea struck me precisely because it indicates the profound way in which our insecurities have us getting it totally backwards. We lament the parenthetical lines appearing around our eyes, the hair that frustratingly keeps seems to have better places to be than atop our head, the body that seems to be adding padding as though, unbeknownst to us, we are imminently moving to a colder climate where we will need it.

But what if each of these unwelcome additions or subtractions were simply a reminder of how lucky we are to still be at the party at all? 

The writer Christopher Hitchen’s, in his days fighting terminal cancer, comically described what he believed most upset people about the predicament of dying:

“It will happen to all of us, that at some point you get tapped on the shoulder and told, not just that the party’s over, but slightly worse: the party’s going on — but you have to leave. And it’s going on without you.”

I recently heard the Irish poet David Whyte speaking of his own darkly funny meditation on our final days, whereby he remarked:

“[Dying is] the ultimate generosity of giving ourselves completely away at the end of our lives—​​of getting out of the way. One of the great frontiers of human maturation is where you realize that actually, it might not be a tragedy that you’re going to die, the rest of creation could actually be quite relieved to see you go.”

Both of these reflections made me laugh upon hearing them. Especially David’s. I’d never before thought of death as the ultimate act of generosity in “getting out of the way”, but something about that idea instantly seemed to relieve me of my self-centredness, and act as a pressure valve for my fear of dying.

But the real point for our purposes today, is that if we haven’t been tapped on the shoulder and told we have to leave, nor are we being called upon to perform this act of generosity yet, shouldn’t that be the headline, and not the bodily degradation that is stoking our insecurity?

In other words, we are very much still lucky enough to be at the party. 

Through this lens, even physical difficulties can be considered a reminder we are still here.

I’ve been around long enough to need a hip replacement? Hooray!

The next time you bemoan your aging looks, remind yourself how many people would have given anything to live long enough to have etched an extra few grooves on their forehead. 

How many people would have loved the chance to walk enough miles that they cannot walk another without the aid of a stick?

My mum’s framing around aging wasn’t a framing at all, but a deep sense of gratitude for her life. This gratitude I saw in her had a secondary effect. 

It revealed the superficial and limited nature of being afraid to age in the context of being less attractive to other people—the absurd subtext being: the whole point of living is to remain attractive to those we hope to date. 

Now that can’t be right, can it?

As I listened to my mum speaking, I watched in awe of this powerful woman, with a deep gratitude for life, not clinging to anything, certainly not an earlier version of herself, nor the attraction of those she once would have been attractive to. That couldn’t have mattered less. Her mind was on the trees she had seen that morning on our walk along the beach, the breeze she was enjoying, the fact that she had the opportunity at all to be in this majestic place that, as she acknowledged, “so many people will never get to see in their entire lifetime”.

She had captured a fundamental truth: 

that the point of getting older was not to obsess to an unhealthy degree about remaining attractive, but to become ever more grateful for the years one was given, and to put that gratitude to work in the living one does. 

As I’ve watched my mum moving through Hawaii, I see the exquisite presence with which she approaches everything. I see an enchanted child, in the vessel of a wise, mature woman, and it strikes me that this is the form of staying young we should all aspire to.

Far from a regression, it is a recapturing of wonder. 

To say child-like wonder would be to do it a disservice. 

When a child looks up at a bird, or a tree, they may experience awe, but not the deep gratitude my mum is feeling. And yet, through that fusion of the fusion of this increasing awe and gratitude a powerful new iteration of my mother is born.

I don’t need to tell you how attractive that makes her. You already know. But that’s not the point. 

When the wonder of the world becomes more and more visible to you, there’s no time to waste caring about who you’ve become invisible to.

Key Takeaways

1. If we’re still lucky enough to be at the party, shouldn’t that be the headline, and not the bodily degradation that is stoking our insecurity?

2. The point of getting older is not to obsess to an unhealthy degree about remaining attractive, but to become ever more grateful for the years one was given, and to put that gratitude to work in the living one does.

3. When the wonder of the world becomes more and more visible to you, there’s no time to waste caring about who you’ve become invisible to.

What About You?

What insecurity or complaint could you use as a reminder of how grateful you are that you still get to be at the party at all? 

 

Matthew Hussey

Feliz Ano Novo!

Estamos numa semana mágica.

A semana que, na nossa percepção temporal, separa o passado do futuro.
O antes e o depois. O ano velho e o ano novo.

É a semana da paragem, mesmo que continuemos em movimento, para reflectirmos um pouco na nossa viagem, nas nossas aprendizagens, nas nossas alegrias e nas nossas tristezas, em tudo o que já recebemos da vida e em tudo o que já superámos...

Onde estou? 

De onde venho? 

Para onde quero ir? 

O comboio onde estou serve o meu propósito mais elevado?

Que mudanças preciso fazer? 

O que anseio muito? 

O que já não quero? 

Que sonhos tenho por realizar?

Tirando o dia em que cada um de nós faz anos, o dia em que o Sol retorna à sua posição natal no nosso mapa astrológico, onde também somos convidados a questionar a nossa existência, esta semana afecta a todos nós que festejamos um novo ano no dia 31 de Dezembro à meia noite.

Muitos são os que à meia noite ainda brindam e anseiam por um novo ano mais feliz, mais leve, mais abundante, acreditando ainda que a "sorte" lhes irá bater à porta sem que seja necessária qualquer mudança às suas existências ou rotinas.
"Que o novo ano traga alegrias, saúde, abundância, trabalho, etc."

Nada de errado em esperar por algo melhor pois no caminho da nossa evolução é rumo ao amor e à abundância que caminhamos. 

Mas muito mais depressa lá chegaremos quando finalmente entendermos que o "Feliz Ano Novo" só por si jamais trará algo novo ou sequer feliz se não for acompanhado por uma mudança interna. 

Nós temos que fazer algo por isso também!
Pois se fizermos o que sempre fizemos iremos colher o que sempre colhemos.

Enquanto não assumirmos a responsabilidade e poder pessoal que o nosso interior tem de co-criar o exterior, se continuamos a dar o poder à sorte a ao azar, continuamos a viver em ansiedade se a vida irá trazer tristeza ou alegria. Continuaremos a esperar que a mudança aconteça de fora para dentro...

A proposta para este ano é inverter o processo. 
À meia noite vamos manifestar o que pretendemos dar nós à vida. 
Passa por uma atitude diferente, não de passividade mas de pro-actividade do que queremos nós dar à vida para então receber..

Quando assumirmos que o bom e o mau é co-criado por nós, pela nossa energia, pelas nossas acções e pelos nosso pensamentos, passamos a ter o poder de escolher o que queremos co-criar. 

Quando estamos mal e negativos co-criamos negatividade. 

Quando estamos bem e positivos ganhamos o poder de co-criar a felicidade que queremos.

Deixo assim sugestões para um novo brinde à meia noite:

• Que este novo ano seja o palco que me permita ir mais longe do que já fui, me permita ter mais coragem e confiança do que alguma vez tive para que possa resgatar o poder em mim.
• Que este novo ano me traga as oportunidades que preciso para crescer, me lembre constantemente do poder que tenho de escolher o que é melhor para mim.
• Que este novo ano me encha de encontros onde posso practicar o amor incondicional, a tolerância de aceitar a diferença do outro, o poder de por limites mas também de reconhecer o espelho do que ainda não conheço de mim no outro.
• Que este novo ano me traga propostas que me façam crescer e manifestar o meu valor e poder pessoal pois será daqui que virá a abundância emocional e material que anseio.
• Que este novo ano me traga situações antigas que ainda estejam presas e que precisem de limpeza, perdão ou libertação.
• Que este novo ano me traga a consciência de cuidar melhor do meu corpo, do meu tempo, da minha rotina para que possa desempenhar um melhor trabalho.
• Que este novo ano me proporcione a força para ir atrás dos meus sonhos e a coragem para mudar o que precisa mudança.

Que seja então o ano em que não pedimos ou esperamos mas, em que nos comprometemos a dar algo e a fazer a nossa parte para que o novo ano seja de facto maravilhoso.


Vera Luz 

Nascença Eterna

Svetlanamax

Nascença Eterna, 

Nasce mais uma vez! 

Refaz a humílima Caverna 

Que nunca se desfez. 

Distância Transcendente, 

Chega-te, uma vez mais, 

Tão perto que te aqueças, como a gente, 

No bafo dos obscuros animais. 

Os que te dizem não, 

Os épicos do absurdo, 

Que afirmarão, na sua negação, 

Senão seu olho cego, ouvido surdo? 

Infelizes supremos, 

Com seu fracasso alcançam nomeada, 

E contentes se atiram aos extremos 

Do seu nada. 

Na nossa ambiguidade, 

Somos piores, nós, talvez, 

E uns e outros só vemos a verdade 

Que, Verdade de Sempre!, tu nos dês. 

Se nada tem sentido sem a fé 

No seu sentido, Sol que não te apagas, 

Rompe mais uma vez na noite, que não é 

Senão o dia de outras plagas. 

Perpétua Luz, Contínua Oferta 

A nossa escuridade interna, 

Abre-te, Porta sempre aberta, 

Mais uma vez, na humílima Caverna.

José Régio

How do you connect to others?

 

CONNECTION IS CHANGING

The world has changed in ways that continue to challenge how we connect with each other. For years, many of us have adapted to virtual spaces, finding surprising intimacy through screens but also feeling the weight of something lost. 

Recently, I gathered in-person with my mostly remote team, many of whom live far from each other and in different geopolitical regions. Sharing meals, leaning into conversations, and feeling the rhythm of unspoken gestures reminded me that being together is not just about proximity. It’s about the richness of what happens when we are seen, heard, and held in three dimensions.

When we sit around a table or across from each other on couches, there is a level of engagement and vulnerability that I don’t see on video calls—the unexpected pauses, the quiet moments when colleagues step away for “introvert time,” or the messy intimacy of eating take-out side by side.

BRIDGING THE GAP

What made this gathering especially poignant was the timing. It happened just days after the U.S. election results—a moment heavy with reminders of our divisions and the fragile work of navigating them. As a team, we help people cultivate relational intelligence. It is never lost on us that it is the strength of our relationships with each other that helps us show up for our broader community, most of whom we also only interact with virtually. 

We spent two days in close proximity—sometimes together, sometimes in smaller groups—collaborating, bridging our differences, and addressing tensions, even conflicts. Throughout, I was struck by the kindness in the group’s interactions. I was reminded that convenings like this can accomplish what’s on the agenda while also centralizing the importance of care and respect.

SEEING AND BEING SEEN

There is something tender about noticing what doesn’t surface on a screen: someone taking a call from their child, another lingering behind to clean up coffee cups, or the quiet humor of shared exhaustion. 

Right now, when so many are wrestling with disconnection—politically, relationally, or within themselves—coming together feels like both a necessity and a privilege. But it can also be overwhelming. Whether it’s a work holiday party, volunteering alongside strangers, or seeing family with whom you disagree about almost everything, I encourage you to seek moments of in-person connection where you can even if it feels hard. 

Of course, in-person connection isn’t always possible or even preferable. But when you do come together with others, remember to see them in their broader context, with more curiosity than reactivity, with more questions than assumptions. It’s in this alchemy that we rediscover what is still alive, vibrant, and possible. 

Let’s Turn the Lens on You

Whether you’re in-person or remote for this year’s winter holidays, the following exercises can help you find new ways to connect to others. 

EXERCISE 1: COMPARE MUSICAL TASTES

The similarities and differences in our tastes are much easier to bear when it comes to music as opposed to politics or economics. Try asking questions like: “What was your first concert?” and “What song gets you on your feet?” Or, take turns playing your favorite songs.

 

EXERCISE 2: EXPLORE DANCE

Dancing gets us out of our heads and into our bodies. If dancing feels too vulnerable, start by asking these questions instead: “What was your first slow dance?” and “What was the setting and the time in your life?” 

EXERCISE 3: EXPAND YOUR PALETTE

Food is a great connector. Try asking these questions around the dinner table: “What was your favorite holiday food growing up?” and “What’s a memorable dinner that still makes your mouth water?”

HOW DO YOU CONNECT TO OTHERS?

Notice which of these exercises makes you feel most connected. What interesting conversations or experiences did they lead to? These are ones worth exploring even more.

If none of them resonate, try coming up with your own—maybe books instead of music, arts and crafts instead of dance, or scents instead of food. Whatever topic sparks curiosity and connection.

Esther Perel

Quando um homem quiser

Tu que dormes a noite na calçada de relento

Numa cama de chuva com lençóis feitos de vento

Tu que tens o Natal da solidão, do sofrimento

És meu irmão amigo

És meu irmão 

E tu que dormes só no pesadelo do ciúme

Numa cama de raiva com lençóis feitos de lume

E sofres o Natal da solidão sem um queixume

És meu irmão amigo

És meu irmão 

Natal é em Dezembro

Mas em Maio pode ser

Natal é em Setembro

É quando um homem quiser

Natal é quando nasce uma vida a amanhecer

Natal é sempre o fruto que há no ventre da Mulher 

Tu que inventas ternura e brinquedos para dar

Tu que inventas bonecas e combóios de luar

E mentes ao teu filho por não os poderes comprar

És meu irmão amigo

És meu irmão 

E tu que vês na montra a tua fome que eu não sei

Fatias de tristeza em cada alegre bolo-rei

Pões um sabor amargo em cada doce que eu comprei

És meu irmão amigo

És meu irmão 

Natal é em Dezembro

Mas em Maio pode ser

Natal é em Setembro

É quando um homem quiser

Natal é quando nasce uma vida a amanhecer

Natal é sempre o fruto que há no ventre da Mulher.

Ary dos Santos

in, As Palavras das Cantigas