Four stars for the concepts, one star for the execution which rounds out to a weak three stars. Hollis repeats himself a lot. I'm talking word for word, repeating paragraphs. Several times I got confused and had to double check that my Kindle hadn't accidentally jumped back to a previous page. He tells the reader in the introduction to only read one chapter at a time. I guess in the hopes that the reader won't notice this cut and paste situation going on? I'm all for reading self help books slowly in order to let the messages sink in. His chapters were very short and there were a lot of them so I read about 4 or 5 a day. Someone was waiting for the library book. I couldn't renew so needed to get it finished.
I am not a Jungian. I checked this book out because my book club recently read Jung's Red Book and I thought reading a book by a Jungian psychiatrist might help me understand Jung's concepts better. It did. I have a better grasp now of Jung's theories. Do I agree with all of them? Eh. The whole "your parents are responsible for all your issues" gets old. Hollis does say that you are not an adult until you understand that you yourself are responsible for your life's trajectory and not anyone else. But your parents are responsible for your neuroses? I don't quite understand. Maybe he means you yourself are responsible for combating your neuroses?
I googled Hollis's age because a lot of his comments about generational differences seemed off to me. I couldn't find his exact year of birth. He received his undergraduate degree in 1962 so born around 1940? Hollis is elderly, my parents generation, so a lot of his conversations about noting how your parents were raised in a different milieu seemed out of date. Hollis was part of the Silent Generation though in his writings he seems to relate more to Baby Boomers. I would guess his parents were born at the dawn of the twentieth century? Yes, every generation is different than the next but I think the gap between the Greatest Generation(1900-1927) and the Boomers (1945- 1964) is a much huger gap than between subsequent generations in terms of the culture they were raised in. I had to take all of these examples with a grain of salt.
Hollis does have a lot of great helpful points and I do want to remember them and implement those ideas into my life.
On my Kindle, I highlighted out the wazoo. Here are some of them so I can later on remember what the heck this book was saying.
we seldom solve problems, but we can outgrow them.
The first half of life, at least for most of us, is essentially a giant, unavoidable mistake. When well-meaning parents ask, "What can I do to spare my child the disappointments and disasters of life?" | respond, "You can do little, if anything, because they have to try out their lives, make those mistakes, and learn whatever they can from them." In time, such painful experience becomes the smithy in which a more authentic journey becomes possible
The second half of life occurs when people, for whatever reason - death of partner, end of marriage, illness, retirement, whatever - are obliged to radically consider who they are apart from their history, their roles, and their commitments.
We become too often a servant of our environment, given our need to fit in, receive the approval of others, stay out of harm's way. A familiar proverb in Japan declares, "It is the protruding nail that gets hammered." In the face of such power, what child does not begin to adopt the prejudices of his family and tribe, fear the alien values of others, and stick close to home in almost every way?
The power of the unconscious cannot be underestimated. Our ego consciousness - namely, who we think we are, or what we believe real - is at best a thin wafer floating on an iridescent sea.
Our life begins twice:the day we are born and the day we accept the radical existential fact that our life, for all its delimiting factors, is essentially ours to choose. The moment when step into that accountability, we take on the power of choice. The choice is ours, and if we are not exercising that choice, someone else is choosing for us - the splintered personalities of our complexes, the perseverating voices of our ancestors, the noisy din of our cultural tom-toms.
Life's two biggest threats we carry within: fear and lethargy. Fear says, "The world is too big for you, too much. You are not up to it. Find a way to slip-slide away again today." The one named Lethargy says, "Hey, chill out. You've had a hard day Turn on the telly, surf the internet, have some chocolate. Tomorrow's another day." These perverse twins munch on our souls every day. No matter what we do today, they will turn up again tomorrow. More energy is spent on managing fear through unreflective compliance and avoidance than anything else.
Drowning in distractions, palliated by simple solutions, and lulled by patronizing authorities, we can sleep our life away and never awaken to the summons of the soul that resounds within each of us.
The moment we say, "I am responsible, I am accountable, I have to deal with this," is the day we grow up, at least until the next time, the next regression, the next evasion.
We are all susceptible to the idea that we have more to handle than others or that others are
better equipped than we for life's journey. All of us have the same fears, the same seductive lethargy, and the same capacity for avoiding growing up.
there is within all of us the choice to remain within the predictable, the safe, the familiar, even the miserable, thinking it preferable to the uncertainty of the unknown.
Freud identified what he called "the repetition compulsion." the drive within us to replicate the old, even if it is painful and leads us to predictable but familiar dead ends.
Letting go of the old is much more difficult than we think. We believe we do so by redecorating our homes, taking a different kind of vacation, even swapping relational partners, but the replicative patterns remain. The only constant presence in every scene of that long-running soap opera we call our life is us.
Those who want the "good old days," who "want their country back," are really wishing (a) that their once-privileged position be ratified and reified and (b) that the anxiety of ambiguity be treated with the anodyne of "certainty," "received authority," and "traditional values."
Adlai Stevenson once observed that the moral measure of a nation is how it treats its least advantaged citizens. We may add a corollary: the moral measure of a culture is found in the degree to which individuals & groups can tolerate ambiguity and change and how open they can be to the otherness of others.
For example, Cynthia spends her life feeling inadequate and ill equipped for her life. Her patterns are a combination of avoidance, timorous responses to challenges, and even self-sabotage. Oh snap, this sounds like me.
Every time someone avers, "I haven't lived my mother's life," or "I won't repeat my father's path," they are still responding to someone else's life, some de facto external authority.
we can address self-imposed constrictions in only one way: counterphobic behavior. That's right: we have to do what we are afraid of.
What are we distracting ourselves from? The existential yawn of the abyss? The progressive unfolding of aging, debilitation, and death? The deep anguish of the soul that has lost its way?
The one thing parents can do for their children is live their lives as fully as they can, for this will open the children's imagination, grant permission to them to have their own journey, and open the doors of possibility for them.
There are two existential threats to our well-being: the fear of overwhelm-ment and the fear of abandonment. In the encounter with the former, we are reminded of our relative powerlessness in a large and potentially invasive world...reinforced by multiple experiences of the power of the world over our capacities. The opposite existential threat, abandonment, means the person is driven to achievement in order to attain the reassuring accolades others, You transfer the need for nurturance to a promising surrogate yet estrange them through coercive behaviors.
There is anxiety when stepping into a life larger than has been comfortable for us in the past. This growth itself can be so intimidating that we often choose to stay with the old stuckness. We have to risk feeling worse before feeling better, and we have to risk the loss of the oh-so-comforting misery of stuckness.
When we choose the small, we don't have to step into the large, which is quite comforting until we realize we are living small, diminished lives.
To be sure there are many forces in this world that contribute to diminishment. They are well known: poverty, lack of education, prejudice, dealing with a tilted playing field. But the biggest diminishment of all is the deep lesson derived from having been small, dependent and unknowing in childhood. This feeds our shame and unworthiness. Recall the common message of childhood: The world is big, and you are not. The world is powerful, and you are not.
Everyone we meet is beset with their own problems. Most of the time they don't want you to know that, and they are also trying to figure out ways not to know that for themselves.
Ultimately, to step into the larger, we have to go through our fears. I have to emphasize go through. There is no magic, no set of steps to dissolve the obstacles, no pill, no narcotic to make it all possible. There is only the going through and then realizing that we are on the other side of that issue.
successful parenting is found not in the splendiferous achievements of the child, but in the child who understands that he or she is seen and valued for who they are, not what they are supposed to do, achieve, become.
In the end, we are not here to fit in, to be well adjusted, acceptable to all, or to make our parents proud of us. We are here to be ourselves.
For one person the core instruction seems to say: "Hide out; don't be seen. You don't matter.
Don't expose yourself to risk." That core message leads to a life of diminished possibilities and continuous disappointments.For another person, the core message seems to be: "Step in; assume responsibility. You are charged with fixing the other, putting out the fire." That leads to a life in service to the troubles, the pathologies, the unfinished business of others, rather than to his or her own life.
The old order, the familiar scripts, hang on. They have enormous staying power, which is why simple behavioral changes and cognitive shifts are so seldom lasting.
There is something in all of us that longs for a bigger picture. Something in us wishes for connection, wishes to reframe the trivial in our daily lives, the pettiness with which most of our systems operate.
A mature spirituality will be one in which we encounter more mystery than is comfortable.
What does it mean to be here? To what am I called? What values, traits, and capacities must I embody in my life?
If happiness is the goal, then everything becomes contextual. To the thirsty person, a glass of water is happiness, though a flood is disaster. To the frightened person, the moment of rescue is happy, until the next peril emerges. And so on. Happiness is transient, but meaning abides.
Meaning is individual and contextual. As we all know, two people can have the same encounter, and one is bored or frightened, while the other is exalted and moved to tears.
Many in the context of therapy discover that what has depressed them, what they sought to distract, or anesthetize, or flee, is actually the larger life that wishes expression through them.
Life is a short pause between two great mysteries.
Putting it bluntly: I am a good parent, a successful parent, if my child follows my path, reaches similar choices and lifestyle as I, thereby ratifying the rightness of my exemplum to them. What is the basis of that thought, common to most parents, other than personal insecurity? And how can insecurity be a firm basis for a parent-child relationship
Is not our radical condemnation of ourselves a narcissistic variant of our "special-ness"? Is it not a form of peculiar narcissism to fault ourselves even more than others? Is it not a perverse satisfaction to deny to ourselves the grace we can bestow on others?