The power – and deep structure – of regret

  I just finished reading Daniel Pink’s book, “The Power of Regret.” Based on interviews with a large sample of ordinary people about what they regret, he identifies four categories and shows how a person’s response to regrets in each category can precipitate self-understanding and corrective action that can be life changing.  The four categories he identifies are Foundation (regrets about educational and career decisions), Boldness (regrets about failure to take a chance or act on an opportunity – which includes career and romantic risks), Moral (regrets about acting or failing to act in a way consistent with one’s ethical and moral values), and Connection (regrets about failing to sustain a close relationship or repair a relational breach).  I’m not sure this list is complete, though I suppose the categories I would add could be fitted into one or another of these.  For example I would add Kindness / Cruelty, though I suppose that could fit into the “moral” category.

Near the end of the book he interprets these regrets in terms of other social psychology research, relating each category of regret to a basic human need.  The following table appears on page 150: 

        What it sounds like The human need it reveals 

Foundation If only I’d done the work stability   

Boldness         If only I’d taken the risk         growth   

Moral If only I’d done the right thing Goodness   

Connection If only I’d reached out Love

Here I think his analysis falls a little short.  Regrets related to boldness often pertain to a human need for experiences and excitement (ilynx is a term used by play theorists) – and this is not necessarily related to growth – also, Pink fails to address regret about being too bold or being bold in an inappropriate situation.  Regrets related to foundation also apply to the need for social status and self-realization – and stability should be understood to include security and safety.  Morality is probably related as much to the need for social acceptance as to a need for goodness.   

These are relatively minor caveats about an interesting and useful book, which I heartily recommend.  

Epilogue to a life well lived

  My sister Barbara was a loving, spirited, and cherished part of my life until just a short few months ago, when a long-healed cancer metastasized and re-appeared, dragging her down much faster than any of us could quite imagine or understand.  But I do not choose to write about that process; rather I wish to celebrate her life and the brilliance of her expiring, like a meteor’s final vivid flame across the evening sky. 

Barbara had a tender-hearted love for animals, and volunteered at the Humane Society, the San Diego Zoo, and other animal care facilities.  She always had a playful sense of humor; she loved water-fights and often had a loaded water-pistol concealed somewhere about her person.  She loved card games like bridge, canasta, pinochle, hearts, and spades, and she played with an exuberant recklessness, bidding not to win but to sustain adventure and excitement.  She loved to go down in glorious defeat almost as much as she loved to score big on a reckless bid – and she got as much pleasure out of another player’s unexpected big score (or spectacular loss) as her own.  She loved martinis and, in summer, gin and tonic – a ritual part of every visit.  Our nephew John was also quite close to her, and he, like I, enjoyed sharing a gin drink with her:  Whenever one of us was present to fix a gin and tonic for her she always wanted a small splash of gin at the top of the glass after the tonic was poured. 

Summer afternoons often involved a croquet game, also played with reckless abandon.  If she managed to bump her ball into an opponent’s ball you could expect it to end up in the farthest corner of the yard, and if an opponent struck hers, she expected no less in return.  When we were younger, beach vacations always included body-surfing in the shore-break, an hour or more at a session, followed by an hour or more of intense shivering as we overcame hypothermia.  When a friend introduced us to the twin marvels of boogie-boards and wet-suits, she took to that sport with the same ecstatic enthusiasm.  

Barbara was an avid reader and a rather choosy movie fan.  Before she retired,she had a long career, first as a school librarian then as a middle-school teacher.  Her combination of high standards with a wicked sense of humor made her a perfect fit for seventh grade English.  Her favorite book and movie was The Princess Bride – a Christmas season staple.  

        Barbara broke her foot about nine months ago; at first it started healing, but in the early part of this year she began to feel a combination of pain and lack of energy that was quite unusual for her.  After a couple of months of increasing pain, she realized the old cancer had come back, and she began a series of attempts to get a CAT or MRI scan to confirm her suspicions, so she could make some necessary health care decisions.  Before she could get a scan scheduled, she broke her femur and was taken to the hospital, where each test showed more spread of the disease into bones, muscle and lymph glands. Treatment would be painful and minimally effective so she rejected any treatment except morphine to alleviate the pain.  

My wife and I were visiting John and his wife when we learned about the diagnosis, and that Barbara was at home, in hospice care, with only our other sister Alice, Barbara’s husband Monte, and their two daughters physically present.  On the second day of the visit, we got a text from Ellen, one of Barbara’s daughters, suggesting that we film ourselves toasting Barbara with a gin and tonic, which we did, making wry jokes about it to help replace the tears with laughter and smiles.  We sent it to Ellen, and thirty minutes later received a video of Barbara toasting us back with what she described as “a very weak G&T – but better than none at all!”  Her two grand-children came that same afternoon, and she surprised them with a water-pistol, hidden under a blanket.  Her other daughter, Sarah, read The Princess Bride to her.  We later learned that she had a difficult night, never returned to complete consciousness, and died the following afternoon.  She left strict instructions – no funeral, but a party or series of parties, which were to include croquet, water-fights, and gin and tonics.  

As our nephew John expressed it, Barbara died as she had lived:  with exuberance, wit, and a zest for living every moment fully.  She made her final days a gift for all of us, and that is what I choose to celebrate here.  It is grievous to lose the companionship of one’s youngest sister and life-long friend, but it is glorious to have these final memories to complete and harmonize with a life-time of memories.  Every gin and tonic and every martini that I have for the rest of life will be a toast to her, to a life well-lived – a life ended far too early, but ended with generosity, wit, and grace.  

"I was wrong"

A hearty “thank you” to the New York Times for its feature in this morning’s on-line edition, “I was wrong.”   Eight columnists examined a previous column in which they goofed  in one way or another – and set an example for all of us to follow. 

When I teach cognitive dissonance theory I tell my students that “I was wrong” is one of the most powerful phrases in the English language, because it liberates you from having to defend and justify a poor decision, a false statement, or a poorly-considered opinion.  “I was wrong” is vital for scientists, politicians, and everyone in leadership roles: It clears the way for considering new evidence, new arguments, new perspectives.  This is what I often call “The Method of Humility,” and it is as important to science and politics as it is to religion. 

“I was wrong” is an essential cleanser for the intellect and lubricant for personal relationships.  

“I was wrong” requires courage and honesty.  Thank you, New York Times, and thank you, Paul Krugman,  Michelle Goldberg,  David Brooks, Zeynep Tufekci,  Bret Stephens,  Thomas Friedman,  Farhad Manjoo, and Gail Collins. 

Of Monsters and Sirens

  In a recent column about the current economic situation (inflation fears vs. unemployment) Paul Krugman has a little fun with metaphors. 

Krugman introduces the column by commenting on “the way the Federal Reserve allowed inflation to become entrenched in the 1970s” and “the way policymakers allowed the economy to operate far below capacity, needlessly sacrificing millions of potential jobs.” 

Of course, “inflation” is itself metaphorical:  MORE IS UP / MORE IS LARGER and PRICES ARE SUBSTANCES.  “[B]ecome entrenched” is a WAR metaphor, implying a story in which an army digs defensive trenches to resist the necessity to retreat, implying INFLATION IS AN ARMY; LESS INFLATION IS RETREAT.  “Allowed the economy to operate” implies THE ECONOMY IS A MACHINE, a common metaphor also evident in phrases like “the wheels of commerce.”  “Far below capacity” implies THE ECONOMY IS A CONTAINER and ECONOMIC ACTIVITY IS A SUBSTANCE.  “[S]acrificing millions of potential jobs” is a particularly interesting blend of cruelty and religion: JOBS ARE ANIMALS (or, perhaps) HUMANS and ECONOMIC CONSTRAINT IS RITUAL KILLING.

The SUBSTANCE and CONTAINER metaphors are relatively neutral; MACHINE implies that the economy will continue functioning on its own if it is not impeded.  The WAR and RITUAL KILLING metaphors are more powerful, with potentially ominous implications.  It is useful to compare these metaphors to plausible alternatives:  Instead of “become entrenched,” inflation might become “a self-fulfilling prophecy” or “a habit.”  Instead of “sacrificing” jobs, the Fed might have “forfeited,” “cost,” or “lost” millions of jobs, dispensing with the implicatures of violence and blood-shed.

Following these rather conventional introductory metaphors, Krugman describes the Fed as trying “to steer a course between Scylla and Charybdis, avoiding both past mistakes. (Which mistake is Scylla, which Charybdis? I have no idea.)”  The geographic reference is to the north end of the Strait of Messina, which has a rocky shoal to the east  (Charybdis) and a powerful whirlpool to the west (Scylla):  for underpowered vessels such as the oared ships of classical times, veering to either side could be disastrous.  (In The Odyssey, Scylla is a six-headed sea monster that would grab six crew-members off any ship that came within reach; the whirlpool was capable of swallowing the entire ship.  Odysseus was advised to sacrifice the six sailors rather than risk losing his entire ship.)  The parenthetic disclaimer is interesting:  Krugman leaves it to the reader to decide whether continued inflation or unemployment is “a whirlpool” or “a monster" - or "wrecking on a rocky shoal.”  Perhaps by doing so he allows the entailments of both metaphors to be associated with each outcome.  However, an immediately subsequent metaphor suggests a a particular reading.

Krugman continues by blending the “Scylla and Charybdis” metaphor with another mythic hazard from The Odyssey, an island inhabited by sirens, whose singing is so alluring that those who hear it are drawn in to their destruction.  In order to hear their song, Odysseus has himself tied to the mast and instructs the crew to block their ears with wax so they will not succumb to the allure of the siren song.  Krugman advises that “the Fed should steer a bit farther to the left than it may previously have been inclined to, and turn a deaf ear — stuff its ears with wax? — to demands it turn hard right rudder.”  “To the left” is associated in economic journalism with low interest rates and low unemployment, even at the risk of high inflation.  “Right” is associated with a focus on low inflation, even at the risk of high unemployment.  “Hard right rudder” then implies steep rises in interest rates.  This passage continues the SHIP OF STATE / ECONOMY IS A SHIP and POLICY-MAKING IS A JOURNEY metaphors.  

The strong allusions to The Odyssey invite other plausible entailments.  Both events are part of a long wandering as Odysseus tried to get home from the Trojan War, buffeted by obstacles imposed by jealous gods (but advised and assisted by Athena) – with the complete loss of his entire crew along the way.  So perhaps, A SOUND ECONOMY IS ITHACA, THE FED IS ODYSSEUS, and ECONOMIC DISRUPTIONS ARE JEALOUS GODS (with one exception:  PAUL KRUGMAN IS ATHENA, who offers advice to “Odysseus” – the Fed). 

Paul Krugman, A revolution of falling expectations.  New York Times, July 19, 2022.

Medication for stressful times.

            Heat waves, droughts, pandemics, political turmoil, dysfunctional political system:  There are so many sources of anxiety and stress right now, and it just keeps going on and on.  Our inability to address climate change tells me that all of this is only going to get worse. 

            At least once a week, weather permitting, I take to the woods.  It might be just an eight or ten mile hike in the Columbia Gorge, a half hour meditating beside Wahkeenah Spring, or a longer hike, over Hamilton Mountain and on up to Phlox Point or up Wahkeenah Creek past Fairy Falls, over to Larch Mountain trail and on up to the ridge above Multnomah Basin, then back down Wahkeenah Creek, a total of 17-19 miles, depending on how much of the ridge I hike. From time to time I do an even longer hike, pushing and testing my limits. 

            On any of these hikes, all the stress is gone within ten to twenty minutes, my thoughts focused almost entirely on the trail, my legs, the rhythm of my breathing, the song sparrows and thrushes, the columbine and paintbrush, the pattern of sun and dappled shade, the smell of rotting fir needles.  As I hike farther and higher, thoughts slow to a kind of meditation. 

            From time to time I decide to push my physical limits.  In addition to the Wahkeenah – Larch Mountain loop and the slightly shorter Hamilton Mountain – Phlox Point loop, I like to take on the 5000 foot climb from Herman Creek trailhead up the Nick Eaton Ridge, mostly very good trail but with about two miles of steep scramble through brush and over rocky outcroppings, topping out at a high point along a gently sloping ridge called Green Point Mountain.  A half mile or so beyond the summit, a trail leads down to Cedar Swamp Camp, a very pleasant grove for a lunch stop at the junction with Herman Creek Trail.  This makes for a 19 mile loop, with several nice waterfalls along Herman Creek, and ending with a pleasantly tired body.  

            A few weeks ago I extended the Nick Eaton route to the ridgeline above and south of the Herman Creek drainage, resulting in a total walk of 23.5 miles.  Last week I decided to take on an even longer route, following the Pacific Crest Trail over Benson Plateau (west of Herman Creek), then back down Herman Creek, a total of 26.5 miles.  The trail down to Cedar Swamp Camp is excellent, aside from frequent deadfalls to step over or scramble around.  The woods are lovely at this time of year, with several species of songbirds and wildflowers.  Beyond Cedar Swamp Camp, the trail is a hundred feet or more above the creek, passing through several stretches that were badly burnt during the 2017 fire, but there are also patches of undamaged forest and many wildflowers along the entire way.  

            Science is coming to recognize that mind is part of body.  “Mind” affects how the body feels and functions, and every part of the body interacts with and affects the neural system, the brain, the experience we call mind.  Even a few minutes of vigorous exercise releases chemicals that improve the functioning of the neural system – and induces a pleasurable, relaxed mood.  For a physically fit person, pushing the body to a state of moderate exhaustion is both invigorating and calming.  This is partly a response to chemicals produced by the muscles, partly the satisfaction of accomplishing something difficult, all greatly enhanced by the sights, sounds, and smells of nature – woods, running water, still water, the view of volcanic peaks and fertile farmlands in the distance, a wall of dripping moss and ferns, a tiny cluster of flowers growing between bare rocks. 

These are my favorite medicines.  I rarely need anything else.  

 

 Grooming and play.

            Social mammals devote a large portion of their waking hours to grooming:  Among some primates, grooming occupies as much as 90% of the waking hours that are not devoted to foraging for food. 

Grooming serves practical functions for the groomed animal – it includes untangling hair and removing burrs and parasites, but non-hostile touch is also intrinsically pleasurable.  There is evidence that touch activates the release of endorphins, chemicals with a function similar to opiates, so the groomed animal enters into a mildly euphoric state.  Aside from the practical function of removing parasites, burrs, and tangles, grooming contributes to social bonding, creating and reinforcing mutual support networks.  When the victor of a confrontation subsequently grooms the defeated animal, it also helps to smooth over the conflict and contribute to restoring group harmony.  

We humans also use touch in various forms, including the vicarious touching with eyes and voice.  About two thirds of our language use is devoted to gossip (including gossip about celebrities, sports teams, and other trivial topics), teasing and other forms of language play.  All of this supports Robin Dunbar’s claim that language developed for social bonding and is used primarily as an extension and amplification of grooming.  The common size of an informal conversation is three or four people, effectively tripling the number of group members that can be groomed by language.  Moreover, the reciprocal and interactive structure of conversation allows simultaneous mutual grooming.  Because conversation can be conducted over a distance of several feet, it also allows grooming while engaged in other activities, including food gathering, preparation, and consumption as well as play, productive labor -- and croquet, softball, and mountain climbing.  

            Play, both solitary and social, is widespread among social animals, and it is often blended with grooming. Play usually involves physical touch and is often reinforced by special forms of signaling and vocalizing  (a “play voice” and “play face”).  Humans are particularly adept at combining language, play, and grooming – along with many other social functions.  Though often regarded as “serious,” music, drama, and other performing arts also function as play.  I have long thought that play, activity done for its own sake (not necessarily competitive play, which is often an entirely different kind of behavior) has been under-valued in the study of

communication, and I’ve been gratified to see it receiving more attention in recent years. 

            In this blog I will be reflecting from time to time on the playful elements of communication, primarily but not exclusively human communication.  These include metaphor, which is still a central focus of my scholarly work, as well as humor, irony, even aesthetic expression.  I will occasionally comment on recent research in cognitive and neural science, when these seem to shed light on the central themes of communication, language, and play.  I will comment on elements of metaphor and play in serious events and activities, and on the serious, social bonding elements of absurd and playful activities. 

 

References

Carter, R. (2004).  Language and creativity:  The art of common talk.  NYC, NY:  Routledge.

Dunbar, R.I.M. (1996). Grooming, gossip, and the evolution of language. Cambridge, MA:  Harvard University Press.  

Dunbar, R.I.M. (2003) The social brain: Mind, language, and society in evolutionary perspective. Annual Review of Anthropology, 32, 163–81. 

Kerr, John A. and Apter, Michael J., eds., Adult play:  A reversal theory approach.   Amsterdam, The Netherlands:  Swets & Zeitlinger

Pellegrini, A. D., and Smith, P. K., Eds.  The nature of play:  Great apes and humans.  NYC, NY:  The Guilford Press. 

Ritchie, L. D. (2009b).  Distributed cognition and play in the quest for the double helix.  Ch. 11, pp. 289-323 in Pishwa, H. (Ed.), Language and social cognition:  Expression of the Social Mind.  Berlin, Mouton de Gruyter.

Ritchie, L. D., Feeling, Thinking and Talking: How the Embodied Brain Shapes Everyday Communication.  Cambridge University Press, to be released autumn, 2022.