At first glance, this website might seem to champion individualism. The tag line, after all, is “The Adventure of Being Yourself.” Seems pretty focused on self. Not others; self. But after reading an essay this past weekend about how many Americans are resisting basic health and safety measures in the pandemic because they “don’t like being told what to do,” and “don’t want their individual freedom interfered with,” I think some further clarification might be in order.
The tag line of this website is, indeed, “The Adventure of Being Yourself.” And I’ve written extensively, here and elsewhere, about the power of developing an authentic core and voice. But I’ve also had to clarify exactly what kind of authenticity, and what version of ourselves, I’m advocating, because a lot of people evidently associate being “authentic” or “yourself” with a person doing and saying whatever they like, regardless of the impact on anyone else.
Perhaps I should have made the tag line clearer by specifying that the focus of this website is on the adventure of being our full, mature and grounded adult selves, not our self-absorbed, tantrum-and-instant-gratification-prone two-year-old selves. It’s a key distinction.
It certainly could be argued that a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum is being authentic. But they’re also being two, with an attendant level of maturity and psychological development. Which is nothing any of us would recommend as inspiration or aspiration for a fully grown adult.
As we mature, we’re expected to become more aware and in control of not only ourselves, but also ourselves in relation to others. Part of the reason that’s important is for the survival of the species. Humans wouldn’t have lasted long on the planet if they couldn’t work with and care for each other. And certainly that “good of the group” argument is what’s often used to promote personal restraint or consideration of others. But one needn’t be an altruist to embrace the work of developing a mature and grounded sense of self, or acting in ways that build strong and caring community bonds. Because those same actions are what allow us our greatest happiness, as well.
There is a mountain of research out there (growing by the day and cited at length in my newest book project on the power of a woman’s authentic voice) saying it’s not the external rewards of money, status, fame or stuff that make us happy and keeps us healthy as we age. It’s three things: autonomy (a sense of control over our choices and lives), a sense of meaning in our lives, and … perhaps most importantly, strong personal relationships and a sense of community. And if we want to build those strong relationships and communities, we need the ability to think and care about others as well as ourselves. To balance what we want for ourselves with what’s best for those around us.
Most of the loving relationships we add to our adult lives—including pets—impede our inherent freedom to do whatever we want. My husband and stepson still give me a hard time over a speech I gave, and they attended, where I explained to an audience member who’d asked why I hadn’t recently undertaken the kind of world adventures I had in years past, that all those months I’d once spent abroad took place back when I was single and “unencumbered,” and therefore free to indulge in that kind of long-term travel. Also, I added, when there was a robust enough publishing industry for there to be budgets for that kind of thing.
“So we’re encumbrances. Okay, then,” my husband noted with amusement as we left the speech venue. Well, yes. On a fundamental level, they are. But they’re welcome encumbrances. Take on marriage or parenting, and you no longer get to do what you want all the time. But by willingly giving up that freedom, and focusing on the needs of not just yourself, but also the needs and welfare of that familial community, you get the joy of those relationships. That’s the trade-off.
The same principle applies to bigger communities, as well—and not just because of the satisfaction we get from individual relationships within them. It’s because there’s also a kind of joy that only becomes possible when we embrace that adult ability to consider not only what we want, but what others need and want, as well. And it stems from not only the benefits that come with community, but also the second important element we need to be happy: a sense of autonomy.
When we’re children, we lack autonomy. Our parents and elders tell us what to do. And when that clashes with what we want to do, we often pout, get sullen or angry, yell, stamp our feet, or throw temper tantrums, because that’s our only power to push back. It doesn’t make us happy, but we do it anyway, in a rebellious effort to feel some kind of power or autonomy. Of course, the reason our elders are telling us what to do is because we are children. And therefore immature, from an emotional and psychological development standpoint. Left to our own devices, few of us would act like adults and consider responsible behavior or anyone else’s needs in the bargain. It’s something we need to develop the ability and capacity to do.
Developing the ability to get beyond ourselves and consider the welfare of others as well as ourselves is, in fact, one of the primary tasks involved in attaining emotional and psychological maturity. Look at any psychology textbook. If we don’t develop that beyond-self caring ability, we remain emotionally immature—which is what happens in the case of narcissists. Selfishness is, by definition, a childish trait. It may sound appealing to focus only on our own desires—on pursuing what we want with absolute freedom and to heck with anyone else. But fighting to hang onto that selfish perspective comes with a big downside: it leaves us stuck in the mindset of a child. Which is to say, feeling the need to push back against the perceived adults in the room (or society) with anger, resentment, and a jutting out of our lower lip or jaw.
This is not the stuff of joy.
If, on the other hand, we embrace the mantle of adulthood, with all the freedom and responsibilities that entails, we gain that precious and powerful sense of autonomy. We’re no longer doing things to help or protect others because we’re being told to, but because we recognize the inherent value and importance of those acts—including following laws and regulations that are designed to keep society safe and healthy. And because we’re making those choices of our own volition, we don’t have anyone we need to push back against with anger, resentment, or rebellious sullen defiance. We’re really and truly free. And with that freedom, many things become possible, including the rewards of meaning, fulfillment, love, and joy.
The joy we feel as we gather in community to care for one another may not be the same in-the-moment joy a three-year-old feels reveling in her own amusement and play. But as a lot of research also shows—it’s far more powerful, and it lasts a lot longer.
I learned that lesson long before I read any of the research, however. I saw it in action, as a child. I had the privilege of growing up in the first integrated UCC church in America. Ridgeview Congregational Church was a tiny red-roofed church on the top of Fisher Hill, in White Plains, New York, and it was integrated by design. When minorities began to move into the neighborhood in the 1950s, the church’s pastor decided the church should not only reflect, but also be the center of the neighborhood; a place that would sustain the community through the transition and tumultuous times to come. So he went door to door and asked every new Black family to join.
There were many benefits to growing up in a multi-racial, multi-cultural community like that. But the most powerful one; the one that has stayed with me with the greatest lingering impact, is the example it gave me of the strength and joy that a grounded, authentic, and community-oriented approach to life could generate. Clearly, not everyone in any group will have developed a mature, grounded, and authentic core. But looking back, I realize that most of the Black members of that church were amazingly grounded and authentic. And intensely concerned with community ties and the welfare of others. I wrote about one of them in a previous post a number of years ago. But Jim Rice was far from the only pillar in that church community.
The power that people like Jim Rice exuded didn’t come from status or wealth. Their power came from being mature, grounded, authentic, and connected with others. Those elements generated the power to move mountains, despite being a minority class harshly discriminated against in the world. But it generated something else, as well. Even when times were hard, which they often were for Black families in the 60s, what I felt within that church community wasn’t resentment. Anger at injustice sometimes, for sure. And determination, always. But what I really felt, on a daily basis, was a deep and pervasive sense of joy. A joy so strong that it was contagious, lifting me up, as well.
Where did all that joy come from, in people who had so many burdens and struggles in their lives? I never got the chance to ask any of them directly, which I regret. But looking back, I think the joy came in part simply from being grounded, mature, and authentic. If you’re bringing your best and most authentic self and voice into the world, you’re not worried about proving anything, or caught up in petty insecurities, so it’s easier to feel joy.
I also think the joy was a by-product of all the care and effort those individuals put into building a strong community around them. If you’re lucky enough to be surrounded by people who have such a deep commitment to community—and by extension, you—that you know you won’t be alone or allowed to fall, no matter what the world throws at you, you feel the joy of that love, security and comfort, even in the dark.
But there’s one more important part of the answer; a lesson that speaks directly to my whole point, here. I believe a big piece of the reason I sensed such joy in all those giving, grounded, and loving people is because there is joy that comes directly from embracing the freedom to care for others. When we choose, of our own volition, to go beyond our own interests and selfish desires to offer care and concern to others. Not because we should, but because we can.
