My Interview with Eric Maisel
Posted By Maia Caron on January 30, 2010
Eric Maisel is a psychotherapist, philosopher, cultural observer, and widely regarded as America’s foremost creativity coach. He’s written over thirty books on such diverse subjects as productive obsessions, creativity coaching, and personal meaning-making. Today, I’m talking with Eric about his book, The Atheist’s Way.
MAIA: Welcome Eric. I think that The Atheist’s Way is a very important book. I’m struck by your notion of making meaning and consider it a foundational concept that should be taught to children from day one.
You mention in your book that atheists often receive the common criticism that they’re arrogant because they break from tradition and your reply is: “The mere existence of a tradition is not a good reason to honor it.” This expands your idea that it’s necessary for an individual to accept full responsibility and make its own meaning without the benefit of an external authority. To live like a hero, you say one must look at reality to see what’s required. Can you explain what you mean when you suggest that it’s necessary to “choose where to invest and where to divest?”
ERIC: You possess an infinite number of meaning opportunities but you can’t take every meaning opportunity there is. You must choose where you will invest meaning. You choose, first of all, on the basis of your life purpose vision: you make meaning investments in support of your life purpose vision.
If you’ve decided to be a lifelong advocate for freedom, for instance, you make meaning investments that reflect that decision. One day you might invest meaning in fighting for an unpopular cause by joining a march or writing an article. Another day you might invest meaning in befriending someone who is fighting for freedom in another part of the world. Another day you might invest meaning in taking pleasure reading about great moments in the history of freedom. Another day you might invest meaning in appreciating the freedom you’ve earned. These activities would look very different to an outsider observing you: he would see you marching, chatting on the phone, reading a book, and toasting with a glass of champagne. But from the inside they would all feel alike as you championed freedom by investing meaning in these four activities.
“Investing meaning” is the phrase you can use to stand for the daily conscious decisions you make about where you intend to make meaning on that day. You don’t think, “Where should I invest meaning today?”; rather you think, “Where do I INTEND to invest meaning today?” There is a world of difference between actively investing meaning in something and believing that something “should” be meaningful, maybe by virtue of the fact that a word like “serious” or “worthy” or “useful” or “spiritual” attaches to that something. Learning the difference between investing meaning based on your intentions and investing meaning based on the insidious pressures you feel is an important life lesson. “Divesting” is exactly the same idea: you decide which activities, including previously meaningful ones, will no longer be getting your time and attention.
MAIA: It would seem that those who look to religion and a god to provide their meaning are in the “should” category. I liked what you had to say to atheists who might experience depression: you ask them to think about the causes of their blues and what they intend to do to release themselves from its grip. Is being an atheist not just about disbelieving in a god, but about taking personal responsibility, not passing the buck in any manner?
ERIC: Yes, exactly. Take the “depression issue” you mention. It is no longer possible to feel sad and blue without someone wanting to call that “depression.” For the longest time human beings made the sensible distinction between feeling sad for reasons (say, because they were jobless and homeless) and feeling sad for “no reason,” a state traditionally called melancholia. With the rise of four powerful industries, the pharmaceutical industry, the psychotherapy industry, the social work industry, and the pastoral industry, it is has become increasingly difficult for people to consider that sadness might be a very normal reaction to unpleasant facts and circumstances. Cultural forces have transformed a great deal of normal sadness into the “mental illness” of depression.
In fact “sadness” and “depression” have become virtual synonyms. Nowadays if you feel sad you are supposed to get help from a pill, a therapist, a social worker, or a pastoral counselor—even if you’re sad because you’re having trouble paying the bills, your career is not taking off, your relationship is on the sour side, and life did not turn out how you hoped it would. That is, even if your sadness is rooted in your circumstances and your unhappiness with life, social forces maneuver you into the world of the medical model, where psychiatrists dispense pills and psychotherapists diagnose you. It is very hard for the average person, who suffers and feels pain because she is a human being and not because she has a mental illness, to see through this maneuvering.
Many writers have tried to speak to this issue but their voices can’t be heard very well over the incessant din accompanying the latest “miracle” antidepressant. Their books have titles like The Loss of Sadness (Horwitz and Wakefield), Creating Mental Illness (Horwitz) and The Medicalization of Society (Conrad) and their arguments are compelling. But lined up against them are countless books selling the idea that all unpleasant human situations are “treatable disorders” demanding the attention of trained professionals. This is very hard on the average person, who quite often has an intuitive sense that he or she is not being served by the medical industry but who doesn’t know where else to turn.
When you’re sad you certainly do have a problem, since sadness does not feel good. But that is not the same thing as you having a “biological” or a “psychological” problem. Life circumstances can cause our sadness: the problem is not always a serotonin re-up deficiency or a losing battle between our id and our superego. Sometimes the problem may be that we staked a lot on our profession and over time we’ve discovered that we don’t much like it; or that our mate is making faces because we aren’t bringing in enough money; or that our parents and our children need so much attention that we have no time left for ourselves. Sometimes situations like these cause us grief. And we have to do what we can to ameliorate such situations—we have to take personal responsibility and act.
MAIA: I like “pastoral industry.” That’s good. Lately the God industry has been amping up its criticism of atheism, so it’s galvanizing to hear more rational voices writing about the importance of taking personal responsibility and addressing how profoundly the passing of accountability to an external authority has become ingrained in our culture.
On that note, you’ve said that you think atheists must sometimes enter into an antagonistic relationship with theists. Whenever I’ve been directly confrontational using rationalism with theists, I get trite responses. It’s almost impossible to draw them out of their comfort zone as they’re so heavily indoctrinated by religious constructs. In your book, you advocate “deconstructing cultural idioms of spirituality” which “helps others move in the direction of rationality.” By moving out of framing its experience in “supernatural enthusiasms” does an atheist demonstrate a meaningful life by not letting a non-existent God get all the credit?
ERIC: I’m not sanguine that people who use spiritual language want to let go of that language. Our best bet, I think, is to adopt a personal vocabulary of meaning that supports the idea of meaning-making and then actively use that vocabulary both with ourselves and in our interactions with others. A vital step in the process of maintaining meaning is acquiring a useful vocabulary of meaning that allows you to communicate with yourself and others about the realities of your life.
If, for example, something disturbing is happening and you can’t identify it as a meaning crisis, how will you handle it? You may misidentify it as “depression” or a “work problem” or a “relationship issue” and head yourself in the wrong direction. If, on the other hand, you possess the language to call it a meaning crisis, then you know what you are obliged to do: make new meaning.
Phrases like meaning threat, meaning spark, meaning leak, and meaning adventure, to name just a few useful phrases, help you think more clearly about meaning. Without such a vocabulary in place, you are stuck with our cultural vernacular that is keen to dub ordinary activities as “spiritual.”
MAIA: Right, the “S” word. Incredible how that one creeps in.
ERIC: With a vocabulary of meaning in place, you inoculate yourself against using supernatural language. Your cousin says, “I had a spiritual experience.” You reply, “Oh, you had a meaningful experience. How nice for you!” Your co-worker says, “I’ve never had a more spiritual time than visiting the gardens of England!” You reply, “Really? What was meaningful about that experience?” By persisting in using a vocabulary of meaning you keep yourself supernatural-free and help others move in the direction of rationality.
MAIA: I couldn’t agree more, but it’s interesting how some atheists balk at that concept, reducing it to some kind of Fascist ideology. I think that addressing God talk where you hear it is a form of atheist social activism. I like your vision of creating a meaning vocabulary that can bring clarity to communicating with others. It’s like you’re stripping the spiritual BS—you’re defluffing propositions that have somehow become “sacred” constructs. Why do you think this sort of daily work to make meaning, this deconstruction, is such a difficult task?
ERIC: Actually it isn’t that easy to say, “I am a meaning-maker.” First, it sounds a little pompous and arrogant. Who am I to make meaning? How self-important that sounds! Second, it flies in the face of tradition. Most traditions ask you to blend in, serve, and bow to the common will. Third, it isn’t transparently clear what the phrase means or what you might be agreeing to. For these and for other reasons, you may stop on the threshold of announcing that you are a meaning-maker and take an involuntary step backward. The mantle of meaning-maker is there for you to don but you shake your head and refuse, consciously or unconsciously objecting.
Nominating yourself as the hero of your own story and deciding to live a life devoted to intentional meaning-making come with profound challenges—but so does any sort of thoughtful, decent, righteous life. Will you make some choices and some meaning investments that you later regret? Of course. Will you feel unequal to making meaning on a given day? Of course. Still, opting to live this way, as the creator of your life and the hero of your own story, brings the greatest rewards, among them a sense of dignity, real accomplishments, and the experience of joy. But most people balk—by the billions.
MAIA: Your idea that meaning is a “wellspring,” inspires me. I got the sense that this is what those who insist on believing in an external authority are missing: discovering this bountiful, infinite inner resource of power, of joy. The wellspring metaphor gives me a visceral sense of what it’s like to be my own authority and renewable resource of creativity. In your own life, do you use this method of getting up each morning with the wellspring image in your thought, and does this help you to make meaning?
ERIC: Yes, meaning is a deep, inexhaustible wellspring and an infinitely renewable resource. To think of meaning as something to find—something like a lost wallet or a lost ring—is to picture meaning as a very paltry thing. In that mental model, meaning is so small a commodity that you can acquire it by taking in a guru’s lecture or by sitting cross-legged in a dark room. You weren’t sure what was meaningful; a guru speaks; now you know. Really? And what if you didn’t tape the lecture and happen to forget what he said? Is meaning lost to you again? And what if you did tape it: do you have to listen to the tape constantly to know what meaning means to you? Is that the way you intend to construe meaning?
Meaning is nowhere out there; and, if it were, that would make it a tiny, trivial sort of thing.
MAIA: Right, it’s neither miraculous nor inconsequential—simply natural.
ERIC: What if you discovered that the meaning of life was to stand on one leg while singing show tunes? What if you discovered that the meaning of life was to praise a one-armed man who lived in a faraway land? Would you find any of those revelations particularly exciting news? There is no way to complete the sentence “The meaning of life is … ” without producing a small, sad result. If meaning were the sort of thing that you could tag on to the end of a sentence, as if it were the answer to a question, it would not be worth considering. But it is not that sort of thing at all.
Meaning is a wellspring and a renewable resource. You make it; it comes out of you; it is new each day; it is infinitely variable. It comes in every color and every tune; it arises one day one way because today you are valuing this, it arises tomorrow in another way because you are valuing that. Meaning is a renewable resource: you make it out of nothing but your own decision to represent yourself well and play the hero in your own story. And while it comes from nothing, it becomes like iron. You wake up each morning because nature renews you that way, you arise, you consider your next meaning decision, and you make your next meaning investment.
In my own life, I try to live exactly this way, by recognizing that if on a given day I feel “empty of meaning” my job is to open the spigot and allow some meaning to flow. It is there; I may have to do a little inviting and coaxing but it is there. I don’t have to run anywhere to find it or “do something” to retrieve it. It will bubble up if I let it. And if it won’t come this very hour, I have patience; I can eat a pear and relax and try again in an hour.
MAIA: You clearly show this in The Atheist’s Way, how this wellspring of meaning is not spiritual, it’s not mystical, it’s just tapping into what is simply natural and human. You mentioned in your book about how “god talk is a betrayal of our common humanity.” I’ve thought a lot about that and your observance that atheists sometimes slip and find themselves caught up in supernatural enthusiasms. Most atheists think they’re free of thinking or speaking in supernatural enthusiasms, but still find themselves saying, “Thank God” or “bless you” if someone sneezes. How important is it to wean all god talk and superstitious enthusiasms from our language?
ERIC: It’s very important, because any supernatural enthusiasms that persist in us weaken our ability to respond simply and directly to the supernatural enthusiasms of others. An enthusiasm for Wicca, paganism, past lives, psychic powers, remote viewing, spoon bending, vampires, astrology, Tarot, the I Ching, palm reading, haunted houses, sacred sites, séances, and a thousand other variations of New age, paranormal, and supernatural belief interfere with our ability to assess well, choose well, and live well. Like the god religions and like the “soft religions” like Buddhism and Taoism, our supernatural enthusiasms have their undeniable seductive side, their psychological pull, and their blandishments. But believing in them, affording them time and energy, and imbibing in their metaphoric power diminish us. The more you consult your chart, the more personal power you relinquish; the more you identify a site as sacred, the less real you make it.
The god religions, the soft religions, and the world of supernatural enthusiasms do not really serve you. They are always a hairs-breath away from being hijacked by some snake oil salesman, they force you to rein in your intelligence, they make claims that you do not honestly believe (whether it is a claim about heaven, nirvana, or some mysterious spirit force), they smell of illegitimate short cut, and they hurt your chances of taking a fearless inventory of your beliefs and charting a course that will make you proud.
Like everyone, we have experiences that seem not only inexplicable but that feel as if they contravene our basic understanding of nature. But when that happens we don’t rush to create a new god or jump on some spiritual bandwagon. We simply stand consternated, aware that these feelings amount to meaning crises of a very special sort. You have an unusual experience; you stand baffled; and you must do something in the next second to restore your basic meaning orientation or else risk succumbing to a supernatural enthusiasm.
Life is a project to live, not a mystery to unravel. You can invest your trip to the Andes with any meaning you like, taking it as the chance to meet new people, photograph new images, eat new food, look up at new stars, carve out a needed break from your everyday routine, and so on. These are normal human reasons, normal human motives, normal human desires … and enough. To add “spiritual” to the mix betrays—to make a little joke of it—the Alps and the Rockies. For the sake of authentic living, it is best to excise all spiritual language and all supernatural enthusiasms. If you get in the habit of allowing reason to prevail and human-sized experiences to suffice, you create a life far richer than one held together by supernatural threads.
MAIA: Thanks Eric for taking time to talk about your book and the foundational ideas that went into its creation.
Add Eric Maisel’s voice to those who call for the end of religious idiocy and add his book The Atheist’s Way to your expanding library of freethinking volumes that ask the individual to put fantastic “supernatural enthusiasms” into question, revealing a “wellspring” of its own natural existential necessity and will to live that has nothing to do with vacuous mystical or religious notions. Because when an individual sees for itself, deals with its own existence and answers its own questions within its own direct experiences and thoughts—isn’t that the foundation of atheism?