You’re not the only one. I’ve felt it too. And the existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard identified a similar experience in his work The Concept of Anxiety.

He explained that the mere fact that we have the choice to throw ourselves over and make such a life-changing decision creates a deep feeling of anxiety. He called this the “dizziness of freedom.”

My Experience with “Existential Anxiety.”

Every morning and night for the past couples of weeks I’ve went up to the roof of my 24 story apartment and looked down on the Williamsburg bridge and New York City skyline.

It’s a beautiful, calm, and empowering view. From up there, I’m a giant, and everything below me is like a colony of ants. Here’s a picture I snapped with my phone to try and capture it’s magnificence:

When I peek over the railing I see just how far down the fall would be. It’s enormous. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel that impulse to throw myself off.

The impulse isn’t driven by a desire to kill myself, instead it is driven by the recognition that I have the capacity to make very powerful decisions. It’s a metaphor of the millions of other decisions that I make everyday which greatly impact the course of my life.

Kierkegaard and Existential Anxiety

As I mentioned in the introduction, this experience is remarkably similar to what the 19th century existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once described in The Concept of Anxiety.

He uses the example of a man standing on the edge of a tall building or cliff. When the man looks over the edge, he experiences a focused fear of falling, but at the same time, the man feels a terrifying impulse to throw himself intentionally off the edge.

That experience is anxiety because of our complete freedom to choose to either throw oneself off or to stay put. The mere fact that one has the possibility and freedom to do something, even the most terrifying of possibilities, triggers immense feelings of anxiety. Kierkegaard called this our “dizziness of freedom.”

I believe that everyone experiences this “dizziness of freedom” to varying degrees. And the anxiety is rooted in the power we each have as conscious beings to make truly life-changing decisions.

So what about you? Have you ever tasted your own “dizziness of freedom?” What was it like? Did it frighten you, empower you, or was it a little bit of both? Feel free to share your thoughts and feelings in the comments section below.

Having a more internal locus of control means we believe we have more control over the event.

Having a more external locus of control means we believe that outside forces (other people, the environment, God, etc.) have more control over the event.

Usually our locus of control depends on the event – it lies on a spectrum between “complete control” and “no control.”

When our locus of control is mis-attributed, it can cause a lot of unnecessary harm and suffering in our lives.

When we overestimate our control in a situation, we may become unnecessarily stressed out and anxious over events we have no power over. We can think and fret about them all we want, but nothing we do can change those circumstances. Focusing on these things does nothing but drain our energy. And the less we accept them, the more we seek to change them. Despite being powerless.

And when we underestimate our control in a situation, we may unnecessarily settle for things in our life that we actually have the power to change and improve. So instead of changing the situation for the better, we actually settle for something much worse. Clearly, relinquishing our power in such situations decreases our well-being.

Living a more satisfying and happy life is directly dependent on how accurate our locus of control is. When we exert effort over the things we actually have power over, we maximize our happiness and well-being in the best possible way, given our circumstances.

Unfortunately, I can’t define your locus of control for you. That is for everyone to determine for themselves, given their abilities and situation.

The extent to which we have power over our lives can be hard to distinguish. Our world is vastly complex and it is built on a matrices of different factors. Fortunately, by living more mindfully and consciously in the present moment, we can better determine where we have power and where we don’t.

We can do this by watching our daily choices and actions, and then witnessing first-hand how they affect our lives. The more aware we are, the better we can distinguish which actions are fruitful and which aren’t.

Discovering our locus of control is a constant work-in-progress. It is something that can be continuously refined, so long as we choose to live more consciously. Day in and day out.

When I was younger, I have to admit I used to disregard a lot of empathy and compassion as meaningless and superficial. I recall watching news stories that seemed designed to tug at my emotions and manipulate me to feel a certain way. It seemed that if I didn’t sympathize or want to help others, I should feel guilty and ashamed of myself. In reality, I just wanted to take care of myself and discover my values on my own.

Over time, I learned to minimize my empathy and compassion for others. They were values that felt forced down my throat, and as a reaction I decided that I wouldn’t practice them. I wasn’t a moral nihilist, I just wanted to discover my own values for myself, like most people want to. I think everyone’s morality needs to be discovered for themselves, and blindly following other people’s values is always a recipe for disaster.

Then as I got older, and perhaps a bit more selfish, I noticed I couldn’t find happiness living this way. I used to harbor really negative feelings towards others. I found many people to be manipulators, liars, idiots, guilt-trippers, haters, and just plain evil. By this point I was already starting to get into personal development and trying to find happiness on my own.

Then things began to change. I had learned a lot of useful personal development techniques already (how to think more effectively, set goals, and so on), but there felt like something at my core was missing. I felt more rational than ever, but emotionally lost. I couldn’t make any sense of it.

Then, upon someone’s recommendation, I picked up Eckhart Tolle’s books Power of Now and New Earth. From that moment I began meditating and getting more attuned to who I was as a person or “self.” I gradually began to read more resources on Buddhism, Taoism, and Sufism, and I felt a wave of wisdom and clarity slowly crashing onto me.

I found that I was not as independent of a self as I thought I was. I was, in fact, quite interconnected to the people around me. I found that when I harbored negative feelings toward others, it was actually a reflection of my own insecurities and personality flaws. I didn’t like other people mainly because I thought they could never like me. The changed the way I treated others, which changed the way they treated me, and it turned into a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy.

The more I understood and experienced the metaphysical notion of “interconnectedness,” the more I realized how important empathy and compassion were. Because when people did things that caused me pain, I knew that was actually a reflection of their own suffering as well. I knew it, because I had been there myself.

With this understanding, I practiced becoming more empathetic and compassionate toward others. Not because someone on the news, or at church, told me that this is what I had to do (or I was evil). I did it because I could see clearly why I should value and contribute to the happiness of others.

In Robert Thurman’s book Infinite Life he describes a great metta meditation designed to expand our circle of compassion. We first start by sending positive intentions to those who are closest to us: friends, families or coworkers. Then we expand those positive intentions to the friends of our friends, families, or coworkers. From there we move on to showing compassion toward random strangers. Then, sometimes the most difficult step, is extending that compassion even to those who we dislike or consider to be enemies. Thurman describes a similar meditation in his TED video below.

Expanding Your Circle of Compassion

The Hitler Test

In light of this expanding circle of compassion, I wonder how many individuals can honestly say they have compassion for notoriously evil figures throughout our history, like Hitler or Osama Bin Laden.

It’s a question that I have pondered about for awhile (long before writing this post). I’ve asked people on Facebook, Twitter, and other social media if they could ever see themselves showing compassion to someone like Hitler and it has led to some really controversial debates.

I think this question is a good test for those who are trying to cultivate universal compassion. It helps to pay particular attention to our enemies, since those are the people who we often find most difficult to direct compassion towards.

To direct compassion toward someone like Hitler means that you sympathize with their suffering. Clearly, it takes a really sick man to do the atrocious things he had done. If only he had found true happiness and love in his own life, I doubt he would have acted so immorally. Perhaps if we can learn to better understand how to love our enemies, we can help reverse the cycle of suffering in this world.

Image Credit

Join my newsletter for more!

I partially agree, but I also find his position a bit absolutist:

“When you think you control something, you’re wrong.”

No, at least not always. When I consciously make a decision, I’m taking control over my actions. When I choose to say something nice, hug someone, or do some other act of loving-kindness, I am indeed taking control over my pattern of behavior.

“Consider the fish. A fish swims in a chaotic sea that it cannot possibly control — much as we all do. The fish, unlike us, is under no illusion that it controls the sea, or other fish in the sea. The fish doesn’t even try to control where it ends up — it just swims, either going with the flow or dealing with the flow as it comes. It eats, and hides, and mates, but does not try to control a thing.”

It may be a bit presumptuous for any of us to try and understand the psychology of a fish, but I would argue that a fish is not under the assumption that it has no control over anything.

Have you ever tried to catch a fish with a net before? The fish does not sit idly, drifting with the current, going wherever destiny seems to take it; instead, it reacts to the net by moving away and seeking freedom.

How much of the fish’s actions are conscious or unconscious is beside the point, the fish acts as if it has a mind of it’s own (and I would argue it does!), and this mind determines some of that fish’s destiny.

If a boat comes by and kills the fish, sure, there may have been nothing in that fish’s capacity to change those circumstances. But just because some things are outside of our control doesn’t mean everything is outside of our control. Often there is a middle ground – and there should be a balanced understanding between what is inside our control and what is outside of our control.

The stoics were one of the first schools of philosophy to take this compatibilist approach to the question of free will vs. determinism. One of the core tenets of their philosophy was finding the balance between the consequences of free will (which they defined as “prohairesis”) and the consequences of what they called “cosmic determinism.” They believed both were intertwined into the laws of causality that determine our reality.

In other words, we are neither complete puppets to external circumstances, nor are we the sole determiners of our reality. There is in-fact a gray area between this black-and-white approach.

Buddhism takes a similar compatibilist approach, although it is more practical than theoretical. Buddhists believe that through meditation one can increase attention and gain insight into what thoughts and attitudes influence their behavior. Then, using this knowledge, we can learn how to change our pattern of behavior by living more consciously and adopting new attitudes. This is why mindfulness has shown to be effective for exercising better self-control over impulsive decision-making often found in those with addictions or Borderline Personality Disorder. (See Alan Wallace’s “Achieving Free Will: A Buddhist Perspective” (PDF) for more on this pragmatic approach to free will and determinism.)

The point I think Leo Babauta was trying to make is that many people sometimes overestimate their influence over their world. This can be an unhealthy attitude because it leads us to assign unnecessary blame for things that are outside of our control. A best friend may get into a car accident, an earthquake happens in Japan, or a mother has a miscarriage, and they exclaim “Why me?! What did I do to deserve this?” The truth is sometimes things just happen regardless of what we do. Just like the fish gets hit by a boat and killed, we too experience things that we have no power to predict or control. This is a very important warning to keep in mind, and I’ve expanded on this idea before in posts like not everything is in your control.

At the same time, some people also have the tendency to underestimate their influence over their world. They become something like a lifeless automaton, letting the wind dictate wherever they go, without a care in the world as to where it may lead them. At times, such a “letting go” attitude can be beneficial, but other times it is a denial of our ability to change ourselves for the better. When we see a handicapped person crossing a road, it is not outside of our control to walk over and help them. In such a case, a “whatever be, will be” attitude actually inhibits us from making a positive difference.

We can’t control many things. We certainly can’t control the past, and our influence on the future is also limited. But in the present moment – when we make conscious decisions – we are indeed exercising our control over our lives and the lives of others. I don’t think it is smart to deny this responsibility.

Leo says in his “Illusion of Control” post that his new attitude allows him to stop making goals and plans. I have a hard time believing him. So he doesn’t meet up with friends at a restaurant or bar? What about when he goes to a blogging expo (that doesn’t require planning?!) Is there also no effort or planning involved when he writes a new post or book? Although he uses absolutist words in his article, I find it hard to believe that he can consistently practice this attitude at all times. In fact, the very action of trying to write a post that (presumably) changes people’s minds to believe in the “illusion of control,” ironically assumes some realm of control.

In Seligman’s earlier theories he identified 3 similar elements (you’ll notice overlap between both theories): The Pleasant Life (the “life of enjoyment”), The Good Life (the “life of engagement”), and The Meaningful Life (the “life of affiliation”).

In this post I want to really focus on something that I don’t usually write about, but is certainly beneficial to happiness: the pleasant life. The pleasant life is probably best depicted in the philosophy of hedonism, which holds the belief that pleasure is the only intrinsic good in this world. From a purely hedonistic standpoint: our happiness can be measured based on our amount of pleasurable experiences minus our amount of painful experiences.

While it is a simple (and primitive) worldview, I think there is a valid point to it. I remember in High School we had to write a persuasive essay on whether or not video games were good for children. My argument was fairly simple: video games are good because they bring children joy, and if we can’t have any fun in this world then what is the point of living? While my worldview today is a bit more in-depth and holistic, I still largely agree with this idea. We should be allowed to indulge ourselves every now and then.

My justification for self-indulgence actually stems from Buddha’s teaching of “The Middle Way.” Buddha describes the middle way as a path of moderation between the extremes of sensual indulgence and self-mortification. I think people who inhibit themselves from experiencing any pleasure or joy (extreme self-mortification) are just as bounded to suffering as those who are addicted to pleasure or joy (extreme self-indulgence). The key, as I often find, is that we need to do things “in moderation.”

People always seem to find some sort of crutch; if it is not drugs or alcohol, then it is sex, or food, or TV, etc. I’ve found all of these to be nice (and healthy) in small doses. In fact, when I give myself permission to drink on the weekends, or pig out at a fast food place, I find it much easier to manage these pleasures and keep my life balanced. But I know if I tried to inhibit myself from all of these available pleasures, I would eventually snap, and I may do something even more reckless than I would if I just kept myself balanced.

I know friends who have tried to hold themselves to some ridiculous “pure” moral standard in some aspect of their life, and they have all have eventually given in to some temptation. Maybe they never drank alcohol like they intended to (but secretly wanted to try), but they found some other unhealthy pleasure to take to an extreme. I see it everywhere. Anything can become an addiction. And it is so interesting to me how people who were once so “morally upstanding,” caved in and went to the other extreme.

Now, I’m not saying you need to start drinking some alcohol or eating fast food – but I am saying be mindful of your temptations. Often when we inhibit one, we empower another. I think part of it has to do with how our will-power works. When we exercise will-power in one task, it often becomes more difficult to exercise that will-power in future tasks. Will-power is a finite resource (although it can be strengthened by your beliefs or when applying reflective awareness or mindfulness). But despite how much we can strengthen our will, the fact remains that it is finite. If you spend your whole day fighting off every little temptation, then it’s more likely that you are going to “explode” at the end of the day, maybe turn on the TV and go through a liter of soda and a bag of Doritos.

Therefore, I think it is necessary and beneficial to know what pleasures are worth indulging in and keeping yourself satisfied. It might be better to give in to your will-power and drink a couple wine glasses at dinner every night, especially if it means having more will-power later on in the week to get work done in the office. It’s your decision – it should be based on your personal values – but I just want to make note that some indulgence is often better than attempting (unrealistically) to have no indulgence. Again, it’s the “middle way” that helps keep us balanced and sane. I’m not telling you what desires to indulge in specifically, just that some indulgence can often be good.

And really, why shouldn’t you enjoy yourself every now and then? If your pleasure-seeking doesn’t hurt anybody else, I believe you should have every right to partake in it. Even at the extreme, I have no disrespect for people who drink and smoke themselves to death before the age of 40. I really don’t. That is there choice – those were there values – and who am I to say how they should live their life? Some people would rather choose a high quality of life (in their eyes), rather than quantity of life. But not everything to everyone is about “living longer.” While their self-indulgence may be at what I would consider an unhealthy extreme, perhaps it works for them. I can’t say one way or the other.

Again, I don’t want to make it seem like I am promoting recklessness, but I have to be empathetic to people who choose to live differently than I do. Some people think it is just “commonsense” not to smoke cigarettes – I don’t. People have different values. Indulging in those pleasures may help that person cope through life better and enjoy themselves more. At times this can be acceptable behavior, especially if it can be exercised in moderation. The same goes for other pleasures: sex, junk food, TV, loud music, etc.

At the other end of the story, perhaps a Buddhist monk has a lower threshold for pleasure than I do. Maybe pleasure to them is just experiencing “bliss” during meditation or enjoying a walk in nature. Again, it’s not my place to define other people’s pleasure or joy, all I am saying is that indulging in these pleasures and joys need not be something we should feel guilty about. The balance is going to be different for everyone.