There’s an amazing HN comment that I mention everytime someone links to this essay. It says don’t do what the essay says, you’ll make yourself depressed. Instead do something a bit different, and maybe even opposite.
Let’s say for example you feel annoyed by the fat checkout lady. DFW advises you to step over your annoyance, imagine the checkout lady is caring for her sick husband, and so on. But that kind of approach to your own feelings will hurt you in the long run, and maybe even seriously hurt you. Instead, the right thing is to simply feel annoyed at the checkout lady. Let the feeling come and be heard. After it’s heard, it’ll be gone by itself soon enough.
Here’s the whole comment, to save people the click:
DFW is perfect towards the end, when he talks about acceptance and awareness— the thesis (“This is water”) is spot on. But the way he approaches it, as a question of choosing what to think, is fundamentally, tragically wrong.
To Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy folks call that focusing on cognition rather than experience. It’s the classic fallacy of beginning meditators, who believe the secret lies in choosing what to think, or in fact choosing not to think at all. It makes rational sense as a way to approach suffering; “Thinking this way is causing me to suffer. I must change my thinking so that the suffering stops.”
In fact, the fundamental tenet of mindfulness is that this is impossible. Not even the most enlightened guru on this planet can not think of an elephant. You cannot choose what to think, cannot choose what to feel, cannot choose not to suffer.
Actually, that is not completely true. You can, through training over a period of time, teach yourself to feel nothing at all. We have a special word to describe these people: depressed.
The “trick” to both Buddhist mindfulness and MBCT, and the cure for depression if such a thing exists, lies in accepting that we are as powerless over our thoughts and emotions as we are over our circumstances. My mind, the “master” DFW talks about, is part of the water. If I am angry that an SUV cut me off, I must experience anger. If I’m disgusted by the fat woman in front of me in the supermarket, I must experience disgust. When I am joyful, I must experience joy, and when I suffer, I must experience suffering. There is no other option but death or madness— the quiet madness that pervades most peoples’ lives as they suffer day in and day out in their frantic quest to avoid suffering.
Experience. Awareness. Acceptance. Never thought— you can’t be mindful by thinking about mindfulness, it’s an oxymoron. You have to just feel it.
There’s something indescribably heartbreaking in hearing him come so close to finding the cure, to miss it only by a hair, knowing what happens next.
[Full disclosure: My mother is a psychiatrist who dabbles in MBCT. It cured her depression, and mine.]
And another comment from a different person making the same point:
Much of what DFW believed about the world, about himself, about the nature of reality, ran counter to his own mental wellbeing and ultimately his own survival. Of the psychotherapies with proven efficacy, all seek to inculcate a mode of thinking in stark contrast to Wallace’s.
In this piece and others, Wallace encourages a mindset that appears to me to actively induce alienation in the pursuit of deeper truth. I believe that to be deeply maladaptive. A large proportion of his words in this piece are spent describing that his instinctive reaction to the world around him is one of disgust and disdain.
Rather than seeking to transmute those feelings into more neutral or positive ones, he seeks to elevate himself above what he sees as his natural perspective. Rather than sit in his car and enjoy the coolness of his A/C or the feeling of the wheel against his skin or the patterns the sunlight makes on his dash, he abstracts, he retreats into his mind and an imagined world of possibilities. He describes engaging with other people, but it’s inside his head, it’s intellectualised and profoundly distant. Rather than seeing the person in the SUV in front as merely another human and seeking to accept them unconditionally, he seeks a fictionalised narrative that renders them palatable to him.
He may have had some sort of underlying chemical or structural problem that caused his depression, but we have no real evidence for that, we have no real evidence that such things exist. What we do know is that patterns of cognition that he advocated run contrary to the basic tenets of the treatment for depression with the best evidence base—CBT and it’s variants.
You cannot choose what to think, cannot choose what to feel
we are as powerless over our thoughts and emotions as we are over our circumstances. My mind, the “master” DFW talks about, is part of the water. If I am angry that an SUV cut me off, I must experience anger. If I’m disgusted by the fat woman in front of me in the supermarket, I must experience disgust. When I am joyful, I must experience joy, and when I suffer, I must experience suffering.
I think I disagree with the first HN comment here. I personally find that my thoughts and actions have a significant influence over whether I am experiencing a positive or negative feeling. If I find that most times I go to the grocery store, I have profoundly negative thoughts about the people around me who are just doing normal things, probably I should figure out how to think more positively about the situation. Thinking positively isn’t always possible, and in cases where you can’t escape a negative feeling like sadness, sometimes it is best to accept the feeling and appreciate it for what it is. But I think it really is possible to transform your emotions through your thinking, rather than being helpless to a barrage of negative feelings.
I think the reality here is probably complex. I think we can direct our thoughts to some degree, and that in turn creates our feelings to some degree. Using that wisely isn’t trivial. If I obsess about controlling my thinking, that could easily become upsetting.
I do think there’s a good chance that the views David Foster Wallace espouses here were causally linked to his depression and suicide. They should be taken with caution. But doing the opposite isn’t probably the best approach either
I had thought that cognitive reframing is part of some well-regarded therapeutic approaches to depression. While one can’t choose how to feel, it is pretty apparent that we can, sometimes, choose what to think. When I ask myself “what should I think about now?” I get what seems like meaningful answers, and they direct my train of thought to a nontrivial degree—but not infinitely. My thoughts return to emotionally charged topics. If this upsets me, those topics become even more emotionally charged, and my thoughts return to them more often. This is the “don’t think of a white bear” phenomenon.
However, gentle redirection does seem to work. Reframing my understanding of situations in ways that make me happier does appear to sometimes make me happier.
But thinking I should be able to do this infinitely is unrealistic, and my failure to do so would be upsetting if I thought I should be able to control my feelings and my thoughts relatively thoroughly.
I think this is a fascinating topic. I think therapy and psychology is in its infancy, and I expect us to have vastly better treatment for depression relatively soon. It will probably involve hugs and puppies as well as a better understanding of how we can and should try to think about our thinking.
Roughly, the essay urges one to be conscious of each passing thought, to see it and kind of head it off at the tracks—“feeling angry?” “don’t!”. But the comment argues this is against what CBT says about feeling our feelings.
What about Sam Harris’ practise of meditation which seems focused on seeing and noticing thoughts, turning attention back on itself. I had a period last night of sort of “intense consciousness” where I felt very focused on the fact I was conscious. It. wasn’t super pleasant, but it was profound. I can see why one would want to focus on that but also why it might be a bad idea.
To me it’s less about thoughts and more about emotions. And not about doing it all the time, but only when I’m having some intense emotion and need to do something about it.
For example, let’s say I’m angry about something. I imagine there’s a knob in my mind: make the emotion stronger or weaker. (Or between feeling it less, and feeling it more.) What I usually do is turn the knob up. Try to feel the emotion more completely and in more detail, without trying to push any of it away. What usually happens next is the emotion kinda decides that it’s been heard and goes away: a few minutes later I realize that whatever I was feeling is no longer as intense or urgent. Or I might even forget it entirely and find my mind thinking of something else.
It’s counterintuitive but it’s really how it works for me; been doing it for over a decade now. It’s the closest thing to a mental cheat code that I know.
If someone, who really is this prone to dangerously overthink, reads this many words about not thinking in so many words, it seems like it could also cause the opposite effect?
It could condition them to read more long winded explanations in the hopes of uncovering another diamond of wisdom buried in the rough.
There’s an amazing HN comment that I mention everytime someone links to this essay. It says don’t do what the essay says, you’ll make yourself depressed. Instead do something a bit different, and maybe even opposite.
Let’s say for example you feel annoyed by the fat checkout lady. DFW advises you to step over your annoyance, imagine the checkout lady is caring for her sick husband, and so on. But that kind of approach to your own feelings will hurt you in the long run, and maybe even seriously hurt you. Instead, the right thing is to simply feel annoyed at the checkout lady. Let the feeling come and be heard. After it’s heard, it’ll be gone by itself soon enough.
Here’s the whole comment, to save people the click:
And another comment from a different person making the same point:
I think I disagree with the first HN comment here. I personally find that my thoughts and actions have a significant influence over whether I am experiencing a positive or negative feeling. If I find that most times I go to the grocery store, I have profoundly negative thoughts about the people around me who are just doing normal things, probably I should figure out how to think more positively about the situation. Thinking positively isn’t always possible, and in cases where you can’t escape a negative feeling like sadness, sometimes it is best to accept the feeling and appreciate it for what it is. But I think it really is possible to transform your emotions through your thinking, rather than being helpless to a barrage of negative feelings.
Fascinating, thank you!
I think the reality here is probably complex. I think we can direct our thoughts to some degree, and that in turn creates our feelings to some degree. Using that wisely isn’t trivial. If I obsess about controlling my thinking, that could easily become upsetting.
I do think there’s a good chance that the views David Foster Wallace espouses here were causally linked to his depression and suicide. They should be taken with caution. But doing the opposite isn’t probably the best approach either
I had thought that cognitive reframing is part of some well-regarded therapeutic approaches to depression. While one can’t choose how to feel, it is pretty apparent that we can, sometimes, choose what to think. When I ask myself “what should I think about now?” I get what seems like meaningful answers, and they direct my train of thought to a nontrivial degree—but not infinitely. My thoughts return to emotionally charged topics. If this upsets me, those topics become even more emotionally charged, and my thoughts return to them more often. This is the “don’t think of a white bear” phenomenon.
However, gentle redirection does seem to work. Reframing my understanding of situations in ways that make me happier does appear to sometimes make me happier.
But thinking I should be able to do this infinitely is unrealistic, and my failure to do so would be upsetting if I thought I should be able to control my feelings and my thoughts relatively thoroughly.
I think this is a fascinating topic. I think therapy and psychology is in its infancy, and I expect us to have vastly better treatment for depression relatively soon. It will probably involve hugs and puppies as well as a better understanding of how we can and should try to think about our thinking.
Can I check that I’ve understood it.
Roughly, the essay urges one to be conscious of each passing thought, to see it and kind of head it off at the tracks—“feeling angry?” “don’t!”. But the comment argues this is against what CBT says about feeling our feelings.
What about Sam Harris’ practise of meditation which seems focused on seeing and noticing thoughts, turning attention back on itself. I had a period last night of sort of “intense consciousness” where I felt very focused on the fact I was conscious. It. wasn’t super pleasant, but it was profound. I can see why one would want to focus on that but also why it might be a bad idea.
To me it’s less about thoughts and more about emotions. And not about doing it all the time, but only when I’m having some intense emotion and need to do something about it.
For example, let’s say I’m angry about something. I imagine there’s a knob in my mind: make the emotion stronger or weaker. (Or between feeling it less, and feeling it more.) What I usually do is turn the knob up. Try to feel the emotion more completely and in more detail, without trying to push any of it away. What usually happens next is the emotion kinda decides that it’s been heard and goes away: a few minutes later I realize that whatever I was feeling is no longer as intense or urgent. Or I might even forget it entirely and find my mind thinking of something else.
It’s counterintuitive but it’s really how it works for me; been doing it for over a decade now. It’s the closest thing to a mental cheat code that I know.
Do you find it dampens good emotions. Like if you are deeply in love and feel it does it diminish the experience?
I think for good emotions the feel-it-completely thing happens naturally anyway.
If someone, who really is this prone to dangerously overthink, reads this many words about not thinking in so many words, it seems like it could also cause the opposite effect?
It could condition them to read more long winded explanations in the hopes of uncovering another diamond of wisdom buried in the rough.