We Live the Life We Choose

Here's the premise: We are all, right now, living the life of our own choosing.

This choice, of course, is not a single, monumental choice. No one decides, for example, "I'm going to move to LA, and in five years I want to be a waiter in a so-so restaurant, planning to get my pictures done real soon now so that I can find an agent and become a star," or, "I'm going to marry a dreadful person and we'll live together in a loveless marriage, staying together only for the kids, who I don't really like, either."

No. The choices we're talking about here are made daily, hourly, moment by moment.

Do we try something new, or stick to the tried-and-true? Do we take a risk, or eat what's already on our dish? (No more of these will rhyme — honest.) Do we ponder a thrilling adventure, or contemplate what's on TV? Do we walk over and meet that interesting stranger, or do we play it safe? Do we indulge our heart, or cater to our fear?

The bottom-line question: Do we pursue what we want, or do we do what's comfortable?

For the most part, most people most often choose comfort — the familiar, the time-honored, the well-worn but well-known. After a lifetime of choosing between comfort and risk, we are left with the life we currently have.

And it was all of our own choosing.

The Comfort Zone

The comfort zone is our personal area of thoughts and actions within which we feel comfortable; it's all the things we've done (or thought) often enough to feel comfortable doing (or thinking). Anything we haven't done (or thought) often enough to feel comfortable doing lies outside the parameters of the comfort zone. When we do (or think) these things (basically, anything new) we feel uncomfortable.[2]

For example, most people reading this book find little difficulty reading English — it's within their comfort zone. But how comfortable are you reading code? Here's a sentence in code:

Dpohsbuvmbujpot! Zpv'wf kvtu dsbdlfe uif dpef!

Can you crack the code? Each of the letters stands for another letter in the alphabet. They are arranged in a logical way so that when you know the code, you'll be able to decipher the sentence. What does the sentence say?

How do you feel? Uncomfortable? Overwhelmed? Have you given up? Did you give up before even startup? What if we told you there was $100,000 riding on solving the puzzle? In addition to money what if you had to solve it on television? And, in addition to that, what if there was a time limit imposed? Say, three minutes. What if something really bad were to happen to someone you love if you couldn't crack the code in three minutes? What if he or she were really counting on you?

How do you feel? If you played along with our questions, you probably felt some tinges of fear, guilt, un-worthiness, hurt feelings and/or anger — the feelings we lump into the general category of uncomfortable.

After feeling uncomfortable enough long enough, we tend to feel discouraged; we give up. Some people gave up before they even began. They were permanently discouraged about word puzzles. They told themselves, "I'm no good at this sort of thing," and skipped, to the next paragraph. Unfortunately, there we were in the next paragraph — waiting for them — reminding them of the puzzle — making them feel uncomfortable. (More on who really makes who feel uncomfortable later.)

Other people, who love puzzles, jumped right in. They weren't uncomfortable; they were challenged. They hung in there, and some of them solved it (and are now wondering how they can collect their $100,000 prize). Perhaps the "doers" felt the same emotion the uncomfortable felt — that tingling we feel when rising to a challenge — and labeled it "excitement" instead of "fear." Maybe they used that energy to help solve the puzzle.

OK. Try again. This time we'll give you a clue: The

first letter is a C.

Dpohsbuvmbujpot! Zpv'wf kvtu dsbdlfe uif dpef!

Compare the relationship between C and the first letter of the puzzle (D) and see if you can see a pattern. If you see one, try it on the next several letters and see if something approaching a word emerges. If not, look for another pattern.

Some people are now actively involved in the process of figuring it out. Others are still saying, "I can't do these things." As Henry Ford said, 'If you think you can do a thing or think you can't do a thing, you're right." If we say we can't do something, we don't spend any time on it, therefore we can't. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

So, if you're still in the "can't" category, switch it around. Tell yourself, out loud, "I can solve this," and become involved. Invest a little time in the process. "The willingness to do creates the ability to do." Give yourself the willingness. (A pencil might help, too.)

What is the relationship between C and D? Where have you seen them together before? Where are they always together, one right after the other?

Dpohsbuvmbujpot! ZpvVf kvtu dsbdlfe uif dpef!

Another clue? ("I'd like to buy a vowel, please.") The second letter is O. What's the relationship between O and P? It's the same relationship as between C and D. ("Living together, no children.")

Most people have, of course, figured it out by now. (There. Does that make you feel uncomfortable? Those who haven't figured it out don't like to think they're behind most people, and those who have figured it out don't like to be thought of as "most people.")

Our final clue: the alphabet. For those of you who don't have your dictionary handy, the alphabet looks like this:

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

Now, can you see the relationship between C and D and between O and P? Apply that to the other letters of the puzzle and see what you get. Congratulations! You've just cracked the code!

You'll note that when you move past your comfort zone you find adventure, excitement, satisfaction and the answer to some questions you may never have known to ask before. (Although this chapter was more like Wheel of Fortune, life is also like Jeopardy — you're given the answers; it's often just a matter of asking the right questions. We'll be asking some of those questions in Part Three.)

How often have you heard someone say, "I don't want to do that: I feel uncomfortable.'? It is a given — for most people an accepted fact — that uncomfortableness is a sufficient reason for not doing something.

The primary sensations we encounter when approaching the "walls" of the comfort zone are fear, guilt, unworthiness, hurt feelings and anger. When feeling any one — or, especially, a combination of them — we say we're uncomfortable. After tilting the windmills of our comfort zone for a time, we tend to feel discouraged — and discouragement is the primary barrier to living our dreams.

Let's take a closer look at fear, guilt, unworthiness, hurt feelings, anger and discouragement. (Just what you wanted, huh?)

Fear

We all know what fear feels like. It is probably the most common limiting emotion — and, for many people, the most common emotion, period. As Shakespeare pointed out, we are often "distilled almost to jelly with the act of fear."

Not only do we fear new things, we also feel fear in addition to other negative emotions. We feel guilt, and we're afraid to feel the guilt. We feel pain, and we're afraid to feel the pain. Even when we feel fear, we're often afraid to feel the fear. (That's known as "worrying about your worries," "an anxiety attack," or "the screaming meemies.") Shakespeare, again: "Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed."

Because it's so common, fear has many other names: apprehension, misgiving, trepidation, dread, horror, phobia, terror, alarm, consternation, foreboding, qualm, suspicion, fret, uneasiness, distress, panic, etc., etc.

Physically, we feel fear in the area we generally call the stomach. Although it's lower than the physical stomach (more in the area of the lower abdomen), for the sake of locating fear — and going along with the popular use of the word — we'll define "the stomach" as a large, circular area with the navel at its center.

In its more intense forms, the feeling of fear is accompanied by a quickening of the pulse, a widening of the eyes, and a sharpening of the senses.

Someone once described FEAR in an acronym: False Expectations Appearing Real. For the most part, what we fear is not real — it is merely our mind imagining something awful that has not yet happened. ("Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil," Aristotle said.)

Seldom do we do the thing we fear, so we never discover if our projection of disaster was accurate. In fact, when we don't do the thing we are afraid of, we breathe a sigh of relief as though it actually would have taken place. "That was a close one!" we say, even though we never actually got close to anything but a string of our own negative thoughts.

Fear breeds lack of experience, lack of experience breeds ignorance, ignorance breeds more fear. It is a vicious circle.

As Lucretius described it more than two centuries ago, "For as children tremble and fear everything in the blind, darkness, so we in the light sometimes fear what is no more to be feared than the things children in the dark hold in terror and imagine will come true."

Put another way, fear is interest paid on a debt you may not owe.

When we begin to feel fear, we look around for something to fear. Considering all there is to look at (the media, the environment, our body, our memory, our imagination), we have little trouble finding something. Thus the fear grows, our perception of the world darkens and it becomes an increasingly terrible place.

Sophocles (5th Century B.C.) knew this when he wrote, "To him who is in fear, everything rustles."

Eventually, we begin to avoid all things and thoughts that even might produce fear, or that might produce the fear of fear, or that might produce the fear of fear of fear. It becomes a many-layered fortress — fear defending fear defending fear defending fear—and inside: nothing.

It is one of the great jokes of existence. When people take the courage to journey into the center of their fear, they find — nothing. It was only many layers of fear, being afraid of itself.

This realization is either tragic or comic. When people experience this, they are often seen laughing and crying simultaneously— and the unenlightened nearby may fear that they have gone mad.

When unreal fears become extreme, it's known as paranoia. As Tennessee Williams warned an interviewer, "I'm a paranoic baby, so I hope you don't make the mistake of laboring under the false impression that you are talking to a sane person.''

Anytime we let unreal fears (and that includes untested fears) keep us from moving toward our dreams, it is a form of madness. If the madness makes us furious, that might not be so bad: "To be furious is to be frightened out of fear." (Shakespeare, yet again.) But for most, the insanity of fear only produces discomfort and inaction.

And more fear.

Guilt

Guilt is the anger we feel toward ourselves when we do something "wrong." The trouble is, most of us haven't really explored what we think is truly "right" and "wrong" in years — maybe ever.

Even if we have explored our own sense of right and wrong, feeling guilty for things we don't personally think are wrong often prevails. It's a habit. So, even if we know guilt is a waste of time, we feel it anyway. Then we feel guilty about that.

Guilt is something we get so clever about. We always seem to be able to find subtler and subtler levels of selfjudgement. 'The only reason I still feel guilty about masturbation," David Steinberg said, "is that I do it so badly."

The process of limitation and immobility is fear before we do something new, and guilt after. (Maybe that's why they're both felt in the area of the stomach.) Guilt is the remorse — the shame, the regret — we feel at having done something "different." We feel so bad we promise ourselves, "I'll never do that again!" even if it's the very thing we need to do, over and over.

When we've had enough blaming ourselves, we often find someone or something else to blame — "The devil made me do it" in all its various forms. In addition to purging the offending action from our lives, we also promise to avoid the person (situation, thing, etc.) that "caused" our "downfall."

And so our circle of activity becomes smaller and smaller. The comfort zone closes in.

Guilt is tricky. It's not always a deep, painful feeling — a desperate need for atonement. It has other methods. It can, for example, rewrite the memory of an experience. We may do something new, enjoy the doing of it (or the result of doing it), and guilt will actually convince us that we didn't like it (or got nothing from it). We can say to someone, "I'm not going to do that again; I didn't really like it," and believe it — although, in fact, the experience itself (not the fear before the experience or the guilt after, but the actual experience itself) was enjoyable (or profitable).

Keep in mind we're not talking about hurting yourself or others. We're talking about the guilt we feel when we do something new (submitting a manuscript to a publisher, say, or taking a high school equivalency test) and fail. Although we learned something from the failure, guilt steps in and convinces us, "The lesson wasn't worth the cost."

We're also talking about feeling uneasy about trying something new and succeeding. Remember that guilt is hot rational. Many of us have irrational beliefs that we should not be too successful. "Who do you think you are?" guilt asks, "Someone special? What's wrong with the way things are? You have no appreciation. Why cant you fit in? Why do you always have to do it your way? Can't you learn to cooperate?" And on and on.

It's guilt's job to make us feel bad when we violate even a limiting belief about ourselves. A limiting belief such as unworthiness, for example.

Unworthiness

Unworthiness is the deep-seated belief we have about ourselves that tells us we're undeserving, not good enough, inadequate, and fundamentally deficient.

It's the primal doubt we feel in the pit of our stomach when we consider living a dream. "Don't try it," unworthiness warns. "Don't even think about it."

And so, we don't even think about it. Our mind goes off on one distraction after another — anything rather than having to face even the possibility of our own elemental inadequacy.

Of all the components of the comfort zone, unworthiness is the most Hideous, and therefore, the most hidden—especially from ourselves. We can stand feeling bad, but to feel that we are lacking even the most meager spark of goodness—that we are condemned to never have what we truly want, and, to deserve that condemnation — is beyond pain and terror, it's unthinkable.

Even if there's the possibility that what unworthiness says is true, we don't want to know it. We camouflage and cover and avoid any thought about the subject. We act as if it might be true, which, eventually, convinces us that it must be true — otherwise, why would we spend so much time pretending we're good and pretending we're happy and pretending we're worthy? We'll quickly abandon the thought of fulfilling a dream if it means a momentary calming of the center, a comforting of the Doubt of Doubts.

Physically, unworthiness resides in the area of the solar plexus—an area just below the breast bone where the rib cage forms an inverted "V". In some Eastern traditions, they call this the center of Chi, a fundamental point for focusing energy and moving ahead in life. Unworthiness inhibits that energy.

As Abraham Lincoln pointed out, "It is difficult to make a man miserable while he feels he is worthy of himself and claims kindred to the great God who made him."

Paraphrasing Lincoln in the negative (which is what unworthiness always does): "It is easy to make a man miserable while he feels he is unworthy of himself and not good enough to claim kindred to the great God who made him."

When reading "Be free, all worthy spirits, and stretch yourselves, for greatness and for height," (George Chapman, 1608), unworthiness says, in what seems our own voice, 'That obviously doesn't apply to me."

When offered something we really want, unworthiness says, "No, I couldn't."

One of the most popular of unworthiness' comments, however, is, upon hearing of our own good fortune, "I don't believe it! That's too good to be true!" It's often spoken with such enthusiasm—and such self-limitation—the good that's "unbelievable" soon disappears.

Unworthiness can destroy relationships. When we don't feel worthy, we can't love ourselves—how can we love ourselves knowing our Dark Secret? And all the games we play to cover the unworthiness—how insincere,' how phony, how deceptive we are. No, we are not worthy of our love.

If someone loves us, we resent them — how can we respect anyone who falls for the facade we slapped together so haphazardly and manipulate so desperately? Anyone loving us must be easily deceived, and not worthy of our attention. Conversely, the people who dislike us we tend to (sometimes secretly) admire—they must be very wise to see to the truth of our very being.

Unworthiness forms the foundation of the comfort zone.

Hurt Feelings

How much closer to living our dreams we'd all be if everyone who ever promised us something delivered. How much fuller our lives would be if, any time we asked people for something, they would say yes by giving it to us. When we don't get what we want from others, when they fail to keep their promises, when they let us down, we often have hurt feelings.

Even deeper (and more frequent) are the times we have let ourselves down. How much greater are our imagination and desires than our physical abilities to fulfill them.

The result of all this letdown is often hurt feelings — sadness, loss, grief.

In our bodies, hurt feelings are felt in the center of the chest, in the area most people refer to as the heart. (As with the stomach, it's not located directly over the physical heart, but close.)

A common "cover-up" for hurt is anger. We blame whatever or whoever let us down, and we get steamed ("How dare you") Some people have anger as the automatic response to disappointment. In almost all cases, however, hurt is just underneath.

A common defense against hurt feelings is depression.

Some people feel so down all the time that one more hurt is just another drop in the ocean of their melancholy. (Remember, much of this is not logical, by adult standards.)

After enough hurt, anger and depression, people tend to decide, "I'm not going to do anything that causes me any more pain." That would, of course, include any behavior of a dream-fulfillment nature, because that almost certainly includes asking a lot of people (including ourselves) for a lot of things — some of which we'll get, and some of which (let's be honest: most of which) we won't.

Discouragement

Over time, the result of all this fear, guilt, unworthiness, hurt feelings and anger is discouragement.

Discouragement promotes inaction, and inaction guarantees failure — a life of not living our dreams.

There is a story told of Beelzebub, who had a meeting with a few of his sub-Beelzebubs (subbubs). Beelzebub asked for ideas on the best way to keep, people constantly frustrated by not being able to follow their dreams. All sorts of physical barriers were suggested by the subbubs, but Beelzebub rejected them all citing examples of human beings overcoming one physical obstacle after another.

Finally, one of the subbubs suggested something that would keep human beings from even attempting to overcome the barriers between themselves and their dreams — discouragement. It was such a profound and innovative idea that Beelzebub put this subbub in charge of Strategic Planning to Make Humans Miserable. Since that time, this hubbub has invented, among other things, elevator music, tamper-resistant packaging and commercials in movie theaters.

It's hard to imagine anything more pernicious — and effective — than discouragement.

When they, are young, baby elephants are heavily chained to stakes driven deep in the ground. Pull as they might, they remain firmly tethered. Soon, the baby elephant becomes discouraged and stops pulling. It learns to stay put. Overtime, the trainer uses lighter and lighter restraints. Eventually, a small rope attached to a stick barely anchored in the earth is sufficient to stop a fully grown elephant from moving.

In a sense, discouragement makes us all like elephants. Although we, as adults, have the power we didn't have as children to pursue our dreams, discouragement keeps us from using it.

Intermission to Part One

This section on the comfort zone is becoming downright uncomfortable. All these elements of the comfort zone do have a positive side. We'll talk about that in Part Two. In this part, however, we're talking about how people use these tools to limit themselves. It's not easy to write about, and it might not be easy to read about, but imagine how uneasy it is to continue living it.

So, we thought we would pause here and take a breather before going on.

Let's see... with what shall we take a breather? What fun things do we have lying around here? Ah, quotes! Yes, all those quotes we wanted to include in this book, but somehow didn't find a place for.

Quotations are comfortable. — The Authors

Life is like a dogsled team. If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes. — Lewis Grizzard

I've always thought that the stereotype of the dirty old man is really the creation of a dirty young man who wants the field to himself. — Hugh Downs

Father, each of your sermons is better than the next. — Anonymous churchgoer

Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved. — William Jennings Bryan

The denunciation of the young is a necessary part of the hygiene of older people, and greatly assists the circulation of the blood. — Logan Pearsall Smith

Eighty percent of success is showing up. — Woody Allen

Almost every man wastes part of his life in attempts to display qualities which he does not possess. — Samuel Johnson

Once you accept your own death all of a sudden you're free to live. You no longer care about your reputation. You no longer care except so far as your life can be used tactically — to promote a cause you believe in.— Saul Alinsky

It matters not whether you win or lose; what matters is whether I win or lose. — Darin Weinberg

My idea of an agreeable person is a person who agrees with me. — Benjamin Disraeli

Good behavior is the last refuge of mediocrity. — Henry S. Haskins

God is really only another artist. He invented the giraffe, the elephant, the ant. He has no real style. He just goes on trying other things. — Pablo Picasso

Not as bad as you might have imagined. — Motto suggested for New Jersey by Calvin Trillin

Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes. — John LeCarre

I've been promoted to middle management. I never thought I'd sink so low. — Tim Gould

Condoms aren't completely safe. A friend of mine was wearing one and got hit by a bus. — Bob Rubin

A "Bay Area Bisexual" told me I didn't quite coincide with either of her desires. — Woody Allen

Your request for no MSG was ignored. — Fortune Cookie

Advice to expectant mothers: you must remember that when you are pregnant, you are eating for two. But you must remember that the other one of you is about the size of a golf ball, so let's not go overboard with it. I mean, a lot of pregnant women eat as though the other person they're eating for is Orson Welles. — Dave Barry

Don't try to take on a new personality; it doesn't work. — Richard Nixon

Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself. — Katherine Hepburn

When I can no longer bear to think of the victims of broken homes, I begin to think of the victims of intact ones.

— Peter De Vries

Go to the zoo and enlist. Shave your neighbor's dog. Yo! Dump your spaghetti on that guy's head. — Inside the ears of crazy people as observed by Gary Larson

When I played pro football, I never set out to hurt anybody deliberately ... unless it was, you know, important, like a league game or something. — Dick Butkus

I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals; I'm a vegetarian because I hate plants. — A. Whitney Brown

If at first you don't succeed, find out if the loser gets any- thing. — Bill Lyon

My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met.

— Rodney Dangerfield

Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

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