O, Wonder! Take A Moment To Smell The Roses
Authored by J. Peder Zane via RealClear Wire,
Ever since Henry Ford worked his wonders, most Americans have been able to afford a car, but chauffeured rides long remained the exclusive province of the uber-rich. “Jeeves, have the car ready at 6 to take me to the club.”
Over the holidays I was a regular Rockefeller. Using a handheld computer that astrophysicists could only dream about a few decades ago, I summoned Ubers and Lyfts that arrived lickety-split to take me anywhere I desired. One stop was the airport, where I was whisked across the empyrean like a Greek god (or Santa Claus).
High in the sky, I recalled the late great Tom Wolfe’s observation that the average American enjoys material comforts that would be the envy of the Sun King himself, Louis XIV.
Gen X, Y, and Zers may find it hard to believe, but a mere century ago, there was no air conditioning or television, let alone smartphones. Boomers who are shocked when anybody dies before their 90th birthday – what happened? – may vaguely recall that the few people who made it to a ripe old age in the olden days were often confined to wheelchairs because they couldn’t swap out their hips and knees. Obesity was not a crisis because few people had too much to eat. And they didn’t smile in pictures because their teeth were a horror show. Worst of all, almost everyone had to drink bad coffee.
And yet, even as I marveled in the blue yonder, annoyance seeped into my bean. I was stuck on an older plane that didn’t offer Wi-Fi service and figured dollars to donuts I’d have to wait a half hour for my checked bag to hit the carousel – assuming it hadn’t been shanghaied to Oshkosh. The pretzels were stale, of course.
Like most people, I am often an ingrate. God or nature seems to have wired us to take the good things for granted. We’re like squirrels who spend less energy appreciating our fat store of nuts than worrying about threats to the stash. This instinct has an immense upside. Dissatisfaction drives far more progress than contentment. Concern is more likely to keep us alive than complacency.
But it also comes at a cost. It engenders a lack of gratitude and a sense of entitlement, which has only grown with our prosperity. The more we have, the more we expect.
Our world is, of course, far from perfect. Everyone suffers, many are in need. Even billionaires have problems. But if our ancestors could see us now they would be confounded by our disgruntlement. They would say: You are living at the apex of human achievement; you enjoy food, shelter and clothing, devices and doo-dads given to you like manna from the heavens. Our lives were short, nasty, and brutish – we ate squirrels and dandelions for goodness sake – while even the poorest among you have comforts our rulers would have envied.
We are not the greatest generation, but we are certainly the most fortunate. We stand on the shoulders of the giants who created the plenty that defines modern American life. As much as we harp on inequality, the history of the last century has largely seen the erasure of the truly consequential differences between rich and poor in this country – who can travel, see a doctor, get enough food, and have sufficient shelter. Gone, too, are most of the legal constraints placed on minorities and women.
As we enter another ugly election year, focus will be placed on the many forces fueling our rampant pessimism and anger, including the rise of political tribalism, demagogic leaders, and the media’s divisive partisanship. But as we dissect the estranging forces that lead us to demonize our fellow citizens, we should not ignore the mindset that makes so many of us susceptible to darkness: a lack of appreciation.
Right, center, and left, few of us ever take a step back and give thanks for our dumb luck. All of us are getting our one go-round in the halcyon days of human history. It might have been cool to live at the time of Plato, Jesus, or Ben Franklin, but I think I’d rather have clean water, antibiotics, and Starbucks. Our inability to acknowledge and actuate this reality has almost become a form of psychosis, as the way we see the world is light years away from the facts on the ground.
Human beings, of course, do not live by bread alone. In many ways we are in the grip of a spiritual and moral poverty. We have plenty of things, but many of us are searching for meaning. The roots of this malaise are deep. During the 19th century, Nietzsche linked it to the death of God. In the 1950s Norman Mailer wrote about the “psychic havoc of the concentration camps and the atom bomb upon the unconscious mind of almost everyone alive in these years.”
For us, today, more recent events have played havoc with our minds: The collapse of Soviet-style communism stripped America of much of its Cold War moral standing, the belief that the United States was a force for good in the world. The 9/11 attacks and 21st century crises ranging from the economic meltdown of 2007-2009 to the plethora of mass shootings reinforced our collective sense of vulnerability, introducing the abiding fear that we can lose all in an instant. This is a prime driver of the mental health crisis exploding across the country.
These feelings are real, but they do not reflect reality. Our pessimism and unease are not hard facts, but reflections of how we choose to see things – through a glass, darkly. Part of this stems from our growing sense of entitlement.
The bold opening words of the Declaration of Independence notwithstanding, a democratic society does not, as totalitarian regimes claim to do, bear responsibility for our psychic happiness. It is up to each of us – through family, friends, faith, pastimes, work, and our own inner resources – to find meaning in our lives. Yet, we, who have been given so much, believe this should be somehow handed to us as well.
We cannot solve all our problems with a change of mind. But we can begin to become a happy, healthier people if each of us works to be a little more grateful. Even as we struggle with our own very real challenges and suffering, let’s each of us, each day, intentionally recall, through a sacred (or secular) prayer, all that we have to be thankful for. It can start healing our broken world and ourselves.