I’m currently enjoying reading ‘The Discovery of Being’ by the late existential psychologist Rollo May. The focus of the book is what existentialism can teach us about ‘being’ human, drawing on the philosophers Kierkegaard and Nietzsche. What emerges for me is the concept of people as ‘beings’, and a reminder that ‘being’ is a verb. Being isn’t static but dynamic and future focussed. We are always arriving, becoming, growing and changing. We are full of power, or potential. He quotes Nietzsche’s concept of ‘will to power’, which we can think of as self-actualisation; acting on your potential. Of particular interest to me is that May writes about how anxiety emerges when this potential is threatened. Anxiety is ‘the experience of the threat of nonbeing’, but ‘nonbeing’ doesn’t just mean death, although that is the most obvious example. Nonbeing can also be the choking/narrowing of possibility. So anxiety always involves inner conflict, between being and nonbeing, between possibility and security. Without the possibility of something being ‘born’, some change, we wouldn’t experience anxiety. And yet change is an essential part of ‘being’!
A recent example. I had the opportunity of making a change to my counselling practice, by joining the Wilbury Clinic in Hove (spoiler: I have decided to join). This led to some anxiety! There were many practical things to consider about when I could see clients there, how long it would take me to travel there, and so on. It also means the ‘death’ of other possibilities. If I block out some time in Hove, I could obviously not see clients in Worthing during that block. I think this is what May means, that my ‘power’, my potential for growing my practice (and my self), the possibility of enacting change, naturally leads to anxiety. Taking this possibility of expanding my practice into Hove is a risk, which may or may not pay off. There is a threat to my potential. Maybe this is a trivial example compared to some other anxieties. But I’ve often found that what people are anxious about (the content) can seem ‘trivial’ on the surface. How we are anxious (the process) may show us that these seemingly trivial worries mask a larger, more existential dread: the threat of nonbeing.
Anxiety then is a part of being human, as we are always in a dance between what is and what could be. This is linked to creativity too, as we’re talking about possibility. Possibility, uncertainty, anxiety and creativity all seem to be aspects of ‘being’ or becoming. If we were static there would be no creativity. Sometimes the uncertainty can become so much to bear, that people would rather resort to the false certainties of fascism; labelling groups of people, putting those groups in hierarchies, fantasies about ‘purity’ of ‘race’. This is the opposite in some ways to May’s existentialism. That sees beings as unique. That there no inherent meaning in the world, but that we each have to create it. That we must have the courage to face and embrace this uncertainty/possibility. The idea of anxiety in the abstract means very little, but when there is a human being sitting across from me suffering with anxiety, then I feel it, then I get a real sense of it.
This existential dread, the threat of nonbeing and the link to creativity reminds me of the concept of the ‘fertile void’. This concept forms part of the ‘cycle of experience’ in Gestalt Therapy, and is the point between something that has just finished and the start of something new. It’s a time to reflect and be still, a period of spaciousness and expanse, perhaps counter to many of our tendencies to jump from one thing to the next. I often don’t know what I’m going to write about for these blogs until I sit down with a blank page in front of me, stare out of the window, and see what emerges.
“Through the clay may be moulded into a vase, the utility of the vase lies in what is not there” – Lao Tzu
The vase (being) is important, but so is the emptiness within it (nonbeing). Without the vase there would be no emptiness in which to carry water, and without the emptiness the vase would have to use. We fear the ‘emptiness’ or ‘hole’ at the centre of existence (nonbeing, death, meaninglessness) so we ‘fill’ it with ‘trivial’ day-to-day matters, like my example above. And we can always find more to worry about! But the hole can never be truly filled. Our very being is that of potential, both the potential to continue ‘becoming’ ourselves, AND the potential to squander that possibility. But while anxiety is an inevitable part of being human, we do not have to suffer it so much.
Instead of trying to ignore, push away or ‘fill’ the infinite void, we can try turning to face it. This stuff gets hard to describe in the abstract, but fiction can help give a sense of it. Imagine Gandalf turning to face the Balrog in ‘Lord of the Rings’ (“You Shall Not Pass!”), seeming to die only to be re-born anew. In ‘The Wizard of Earthsea’, the young mage Ged accidentally unleashes a shadow creature when through his pride he tries to cheat death. He learns the only way to ‘defeat’ the shadow is to name it, and ultimately embrace it as part of himself. I prefer this example as there is a more direct acknowledgment that the void/shadow/darkness is within us, a part of us needing naming/owning, rather than fighting. I’m aware both example involve wizards, which may not be to everyone’s taste, but to me there is something ‘magical’ about the transformation that can take place when we turn to face this ‘void’ of nonbeing.
A more concrete example without wizards. I’ve seen people react to one of their parents dying with a sense of urgency and embracing of life. The thinking might go something like: “My Mum died age 60, Im 30 now, so I might only have 30 years left.” Facing death in the abstract is one thing, acknowledging everyone will die, but to face the prospect of my death, the end of my being, is another matter.
And here I’m reminded of another book ‘The Five Invitations’ by Frank Ostaseski, an exploration of what death can teach us about truly living. He’s sat with over a thousand people on the precipice of death, and writes about what he’s learnt:
- don’t wait
- embrace everything
- bring your whole self to every experience
- find a place of rest in the middle of things
- cultivate a ‘dont know’ mind
I can’t do the book justice here. However I think talking about death and dying is still somewhat of a taboo, and the book shows how acknowledging the inevitability of death can help us live fuller lives. To me this echoes the idea of turning to face your shadow. Of re-orientating yourself towards the ‘void’ rather than away from it. What ‘emerges’ in facing the inevitability of our own death is an awareness of the fragility and potential for our own life. (I initially wrote ‘…in facing the possibility of our own death…’, perhaps subconsciously still imagining I have a choice in the matter…)