A Fragile Life: Accepting Our Vulnerability

by Todd May

It is perhaps our noblest cause, and certainly one of our to end suffering. Think of the Buddha, Chuang Tzu, or Marcus stoically composed figures impervious to the torments of the wider world, living their lives in complete serenity—and teaching us how to do the same. After all, isn’t a life free from suffering the ideal? Isn’t it what so many of us seek? Absolutely not, argues Todd May in this provocative but compassionate book. In a moving examination of life and the trials that beset it, he shows that our fragility, our ability to suffer, is actually one of the most important aspects of our humanity.
           
May starts with a simple but hard suffering is inevitable. At the most basic level, we suffer physically—a sprained ankle or a bad back. But we also suffer insults and indifference. We suffer from overburdened schedules and unforeseen circumstances, from moral dilemmas and emotional heartaches. Even just thinking about our own mortality—the fact that we only live one life—can lead us to tremendous suffering. No wonder philosophies such as Buddhism, Taosim, Stoicism, and even Epicureanism—all of which counsel us to rise above these plights—have had appeal over the centuries. May highlights the tremendous value of these philosophies and the ways they can guide us toward better lives, but he also exposes a major drawback to their such invulnerability is too emotionally disengaged from the world, leading us to place too great a distance between ourselves and our experience. Rather than seeking absolute immunity, he argues most of us just want to hurt less and learn how to embrace and accept what suffering we do endure in a meaningful way.
           
Offering a guide on how to positively engage suffering, May ultimately lays out a new way of thinking about how we exist in the world, one that reassures us that our suffering, rather than a failure of physical or psychological resilience, is a powerful and essential part of life itself.    
 

Genres: Philosophy, Nonfiction, Self Help, Psychology

232 pages, Hardcover

Published March 1, 2017

About the author

Todd May was born in New York City. He is the author of 18 books of philosophy. He was philosophical advisor to NBC's hit sit-com The Good Place and one of the original contributors to the New York Times philosophy blog The Stone. Todd teaches philosophy at Warren Wilson College.

Reviews

[Joseph Gascho · Rating 4 out of 5]

I great read--the author argues that the great Buddhist (and other) philosophies about the nobleness and idealism of getting to point that one can "let go" of anything in life, that one can get to a point of not suffering, even over a terrible grief such as the loss of a child, is achievable by only a very few and is, in fact not something that most of us really want to ever do. He differentiates between the "Small Matters" (getting stuck in traffic, e.g.) and "Large Matters"--a tragedy in life, a death of a loved one. Meditation and training to "be in the now" are fine for the Small Matters, but not necessarily for the Large Matters. He uses the word "acceptance". I quote from the book, from the lat paragraph:

...the alternative offered here, acceptance, does not render us immune to our suffering. It does not take us beyond our fragility. But neither does it leave us bereft. To accept the contingency of things and the quiet sadness that may go along with it is not to lie prostate before the world. Rather, it is to embrace a perspective that can. with luck, help us find path along the Large Matters through which we define the center aspects of our lives.

A great read. I want to read other of his books.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

Terrific. Proves that good philosophy can and should be accessible to the general reader. Moreover, it is an important argument about how and why suffering is always entangled with care. I felt the analysis of the doctrines of invulnerability should have been accompanied by at least some reference to metaphysical grounds for acceptance of suffering but he shies away from this and leaves us mainly with rational grounds.

[Liberty Egan · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5. I was given this book as a graduation present from the philosophy department because the author is one of the philosophy professors. In all honesty, I’d forgotten how much I love to read about philosophy until I started this book. While it is not a Christian philosophy book, there are many areas of suffering and being vulnerable brought up by the author that can apply to any individual’s life. An overall enjoyable read, but nothing spectacular in my opinion.

[Nona · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyed this book for the most part but had to force myself to finish. May does a good job of unpacking why I often feel uncomfortable for 'invulnerability' (Stoicism, Buddhism, etc.). His thesis is closer to my own beliefs and well reasoned.

[John Sperling · Rating 2 out of 5]

The first paragraphs sucked me in, but there are large portions of this book that I skipped when the shaky foundations of the writing became apparent.

May advocates a gentle acceptance of life in the face of suffering. Where he stops making sense, to my thinking, is where he commits the either/or fallacy of separating people and philosophies into vulnerablist/invulnerablist categories.

He spends the first half of the book railing against the hard nonchalance of Stoicism, the equanimity of Buddhism, and the frivolity of Epicureanism (things which he equates with uncaring indifference in the face of suffering), only to advocate unconditional acceptance in the second half of the book. The irony is deafening, because each of these philosophies wholeheartedly embraces unconditional acceptance of reality (Stoic serenity, Buddhist non-striving, Epicurean sufficiency).

True invulnerability is a characteristic which would ultimately be destructive, as the individual walls herself off from the world and from all feelings, collapsing into herself like a black hole. What philosophy offers is not invulnerabilitly or the elimination of suffering, but rather the ability to cope with and thrive in the midst of suffering.

Vulnerability is a condition of our existence. Embracing it is a key to liberation. This self-help book may be useful for those who can see beyond its categorical mistakes.

[Allison Stokes · Rating 1 out of 5]

Honestly a slog. Seems like this man is grappling with his own bourgeois profession. I was really hoping there would be something to this, but I was pretty disappointed.

[Çetin Balanuye · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book has been translated into Turkish as "Kırılgan bir Yaşam: İncinebilirliğimizi Kabullenmek". Translated by Bekir Asci.

Unfortunately, the book has not been added to the system in the Goodreads Turkish version. Hope the publisher will add it soon.

Todd May is a thinker whose books I have followed closely for many years. He is an author who approaches the subject he focuses on without prejudice, sincerely and with many perspectives.

A Fragile Life is no exception.

Regardless of your worldview, knowing that you are mortal, knowing that your loved ones are mortal, and knowing that even if it does not kill, there is always the possibility of a disease that will make you live in disability or pain... it is a deep tragedy of man.

May calls this awareness "fragility." So all of us are, to one degree or another, vulnerable creatures because of that tragic awareness. To what extent can this be resolved? May confronts the different schools of eastern and western wisdom that argue that total invulnerability is possible; shows that while these teachings are "useful," they are not "useful enough" to the extent that they promise. Instead, it explores possible ways of being able to move on, by showing that we are inevitably "vulnerable."

Man is a rather fragile and vulnerable animal; He can also be extraordinarily dexterous in making an effort to move on by accepting his vulnerability. The name of this skill cannot be the an unabashed desire to live; It has to be more of an existential curiosity about the look the resist will take when brewed enough.

*****

Bu kitap Türkçeye "Kırılgan bir Yaşam: İncinebilirliğimizi Kabullenmek" adıyla çevrilmiş. Çeviren, Bekir Aşçı.

Maalesef Goodreads Türkçe sürümde kitap sisteme eklenmemiş. Belki yayınevi ekler yakında.

Todd May, kitaplarını uzun yıllardır yakından izlediğim bir düşünür. Odaklandığı konu her neyse ona önyargısız, içten ve çok perspektifli yaklaşan bir yazardır.

Kırılgan bir Yaşam da istisna değil.

Dünya görüşünüz ne olursa olsun, ölümlü olduğunu bilmek, sevilenlerin ölümlü olduğunu bilmek, dahası öldürmese de sakatlıklar ya da acılar içinde yaşatacak bir hastalık olasılığının her an yanında olduğunu bilmek... insanın derin trajedisi.

May, bu farkındalığa "incinebilirlik" diyor. Yani hepimiz şu ya da bu ölçüde, sözü edilen trajik farkındalık nedeniyle incinebilir canlılarız. Buna ne ölçüde çare bulunabilir? May, tümüyle incinmezliğin olanaklı olduğunu ileri süren doğu ve batı bilgeliğinin farklı okullarıyla yüzleşiyor; bu öğretilerin "yararlı" olmakla birlikte, söz verdikleri ölçüde, "yeterince yararlı olamadıklarını" gösteriyor. Bunun yerine, kaçınılmaz olarak "incinebilir" olduğumuzu göstererek, buna karşın yola devam edebilir olmanın olası yollarını araştırıyor.

İnsan, epeyce kırılgan ve incinebilir bir hayvan; incinebilirliğini kabul ederek yola devam etme çabası göstermekte de sıradışı hünerli olabiliyor. Bu hünerin adı yaşama arsızlığı olamaz. Bu daha çok, direncin yeterince demlendiğinde alacağı görünüme yönelik varoluşsal bir merak olmalı.

[Andrew Willems · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting read that helped me better understand why vulnerability is an essential element to the human experience. By experiencing vulnerability we are able to learn how to effectively deal with what May calls “small matters” (car breaks down, a cashier is rude to you, you are late to a meeting) in a way that does not rob one of the the joy of living. We can adapt and see that many of these “small matters” and their outcomes have nothing to do with us and that they are often outside of our control and in the long run have no consequence to us or those that we care for. When it comes to “large matters” (the inevitability of our own deaths, the fact that for us to exist requires the atrocities that have happened in history, etc) we can take solace in the contingencies and the largely uncontrollable nature of many of the events and circumstances which cause suffering in this way. A truly insightful read!

[Michael Baranowski · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a practicing Stoic / Buddhist, I was intrigued by May's exploration of what he feels is missing from these 'invulnerablist' approaches to life. In the end I don't quite agree with him, largely because I don't agree that these approaches require the sort of emotional distancing he seems to believe they do. I suppose he might be right in one sense - the Stoic Sage or the Enlightened Buddhist may have that level of detachment, but being concerned about that is like a 97 pound weakling not lifting weights because he's concerned about becoming too 'muscle-bound'.

[Kim Horner · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you are exhausted with extremism of all stripes, if you think absolutism is a growing problem, if you need a way to "ask who we are from the perspective of who we are, and ask what we want from within the context of our current aspirations," this book will probably help. I gave it four stars instead of five because it is, after all, philosophy, and not nearly as easy to read as The Good Place (on whom the author, Todd May, was an advisor) was to watch, and does get the tiniest bit repetitive in some places.

[Charles · Rating 3 out of 5]

May argues against what he calls "invulnerabilism"—the idea, developed mostly in ancient philosophies, that we can, and ought to, become detached in order to avoid suffering—in favor of his own solution which, recognizing both the inevitability and the pain of suffering, seeks acceptance instead of outright desensitization.

The book is short and readable, with some good references. Chapter 2 was my favorite, and 4 my least favorite.

[Marlowe Brennan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really cannot say enough about the approachability of Todd May's work. He finds a intellectually rigorous yet human readable way to convey both the surface and the nuance of life's biggest questions. A Fragile Life is an amazing complement to his work in A Significant Life.

[Aleasha · Rating 2 out of 5]

great idea but difficult to read

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second book of Todd May's that I have read, the first being Death. I like May's writing style and the way he brings existentialism and a philosophy more attuned to vulnerability and human suffering. He explores a number of philosophies and theologies that pulls the reader into the question of how vulnerability is what makes us human and what feels meaningful.

[Luke Hillier · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was pretty underwhelmed with this, mostly because of how much it differed from my expectations. I think this is one of the first explicitly philosophical (as in, written by a professional philosopher) books I've read, and I'm guessing that plays into it considerably. While I certainly cannot fault May for a failure to be thorough in his argumentation, I was left wanting far more flourish and vitality than he offered. In other words, this felt like technical writing and I was hoping for poetry.

I resonate deeply with May's premise here, and also share in his trajectory as someone who's previously been drawn to "invulnerabilist" approaches to life before coming around to appreciating "vulnerabilist" ones. In fact, I actually sought out the book in hopes of gaining some philosophical grounding to help shape my upcoming internship as a hospital chaplain. It seems like a position where the merits of invulnerability are obviously apparent, and yet I hold a gut-level desire to remain open to being affected by the fragility of life. Unfortunately, somehow, this book seemed to only brush past the surface of that question in many ways, perhaps in order to remain as general as possible (he is, after all, writing philosophy and not a primer on pastoral care or a theology of chaplaincy, which are writing styles I'm more inclined to).

Interestingly, by the book's end I had the -most- clarity around the models that May was arguing in contrast to. He does a great job articulating some basic definitions for Buddhist, Taoist, Stoic, and Epicurean modes of invulnerability (though I'm no expert on any of them, so an actual practitioner may disagree) and I feel like the major takeway the book offered was an introduction to thinking about each of these perspectives on rising above suffering, which is helpful despite my disagreements with them. In turn, I really wish May had developed his own model a bit further. He distinguishes it helpfully from the "modest nihilism" that involves an affirmation of the horrors of contiguous existence and our abject response to that, but it read as if he'd essentially lost steam by the final chapter when it was finally time to present his mode. May fairly recognized that, of course, it is our natural response to be affected by suffering, but I think there was room to acknowledge how we're acculturated to avoid doing so all the same. It seemed like he was building towards an affirmation of a way of living that honored suffering and grief with some sense of unique regard, but in the end it climaxed more simply as an argument against the most extreme expressions of invulnerabilist postures, which didn't necessarily feel as engaging. Still, I found his argument well-reasoned and presented, and sound, so I don't regret reading it. I think I'm giving a solid 3 stars over 2 for the striking cover alone.

[DRugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very helpful exploration of our options for dealing with suffering, drawing on the perspectives of Buddhism, Taoism, Stoicism, etc. May makes an argument for embracing suffering as a way to affirm our humanity, and differentiates between small and large matters. In small matters, people create unnecessary suffering and need to practice what they can control. In large matters, people must accept what they cannot control.