From Vol. 6, Issue 5, May 2024
The question that declutters your brain
There’s a question that cuts through our chaotic minds and leaves us calmer and more focused: “What are you going to do about that?”
It’s a circuit breaker for stuck brains. It’s a mental shortcut for an age-old philosophical idea successful people have relied on for more than 2,300 years.
Rumination – junk food for the brain
There are few more direct paths to misery than regretting past mistakes or worrying about the future. The more we do it, the less we’re paying attention to the now, which is where our control lies. We can’t fix the past or reliably bend the future to our will, so dwelling on these nonexistent times doesn’t improve our lot or the lives of anyone else. It’s simply a useless waste of time that leaves us miserable.
As Epictetus asked:
“Is there anything whatever in life that is done better by those who remain inattentive?” Discourses, 4.1.12
He had a point. The more we’re wrapped up in anxiety, fear, and regret, the more likely we are to botch what we’re doing now, which will likely result in more anxiety, fear, and regret. We need to pay attention now if we’re going to live up to the character we want to have and experience peace/ happiness/flourishing (eudaimonia).
Epictetus’ prescription
Epictetus observes that “Some things are up to us and other things are not,” (Encheiridion, 1) hinting at a fundamental Stoic psychological technique, sometimes called the Dichotomy of Control.
What this self-directed question asks us to do is simple: divide life into things we control and things we don’t.
- Things we don’t control: Past mistakes, future outcomes, and what people think of us. If we become famous, fall into poverty, or have a loved one die.
- Things we control: Our character. Our thoughts, words, and deeds in this moment, subject to whatever constraints might impair them.
“What, then, is to be done?” Epictetus asks. “To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it naturally happens.” The distinction between what we control and what we don’t isn’t hard to grasp, but something about human nature causes us to mentally blur it.
The more I use this question, the more peace I have and the clearer my thinking becomes.
How I used the Epictetus prescription
My mistake was eating at me. I teach and perform partner acrobatics as a side gig, and hours earlier I’d agreed to perform at a wedding. I was busy and rushed and I unthinkingly said yes. Hours later it dawned on me that I’d booked another wedding that day months before. I profusely apologized and backed out.
I didn’t break a signed contract, but made my partner look bad and disappointed the couple. It’s not a good look as a business owner, and I felt horrible about it as a person.
It was eating at me hours later as I worked on something unrelated. I had a stab of anxiety every few minutes as my mind returned to my mistake again and again, keeping me from living the present moment well.
Finally, I came to my senses and asked: What are you going to do about that?
I closed my eyes.
Are there more amends you need to make? No.
Are there any lessons you can pull from this to avoid repeating the error? Yes (I spent several minutes taking notes and deciding what changes I needed to make to avoid a repeat).
Will it help anyone if you continue to dwell on this? No.
Will dwelling on this improve your character or reduce the likelihood of this recurring? No. It will make it more likely to occur again.
Should you drop it then? Yes. I felt considerably better after doing this, but a muted form of the anxiety returned an hour later.
I closed my eyes and again sat with the sensation. I again asked what constructive steps would improve the situation (there were none). I asked myself if my suffering was making the lives of those I’d disappointed better (No), or if it was helping me avoid a mistake in the future (it wasn’t).
The feeling dissipated and I opened my eyes. It didn’t come back.
A better path
Asking, “What are you going to do about that?” in our heads is quick. But journaling this question in the second person, as philosophers have been doing for millennia, is helpful. Something about the process concretizes it and makes it more impactful. But doing it quickly in your head the moment rumination begins is always better than waiting.