Good Life Project - Susan Cain | The Power of Bittersweetness

Episode Date: April 4, 2022

Ever wonder why a certain sad song or even a few bars of just the right melancholy music will stop you in your tracks and maybe even move you to tears? Turns out, you’re not alone. My guest today, Susan Cain, has spent years researching why certain experiences - ones that connect us to sadness, longing, or sorrow - move us so deeply, and actually add profoundly to our lives. Susan’s first book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in A World That Can’t Stop Talking, has been translated into 40 languages, spent seven years on the New York Times bestseller list, and was named the #1 best book of the year by Fast Company magazine, which also named Susan one of the Most Creative People in Business. Susan and I have been friends since before she launched her quiet revolution, I’ve always appreciated her deep wisdom, generosity, kindness, and a level of introspection, curiosity, and contemplative thought that’s so rare these days. And, lucky for all of us, she’s been focusing those observational and intellectual superpowers on a topic that is so universal, and yet also so misunderstood - longing. Susan’s new masterpiece, Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole, is a powerful look at why that feeling of yearning, of bittersweetness and longing, is, in fact, not just common to every sentient being, but also necessary and a critical element of a life well-lived, and source-fuel for some of the greatest works of art, science, and creation in history. And, that is exactly what we’re diving into today.You can find Susan at: Website | Instagram | Susan's TED Talk | Bittersweet Spotify PlaylistIf you LOVED this episode you’ll also love the conversations we had with Elizabeth Gilbert about longing and loss.Check out our offerings & partners: My New Book SparkedMy New Podcast SPARKEDVisit Our Sponsor Page For Great Resources & Discount Codes Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Inside our sorrows and longings, that really is the pathway to creativity and to connection and love and transcendence. And I kept finding it there in so many different ways. And I realized that that is a power and that is a truth that our culture is not talking about. So ever wonder why a certain sad song or even a few bars of just the right music will stop you in your tracks and maybe even move you to tears. Well, it turns out you're not alone. My guest today, Susan Cain, has spent years researching why certain experiences, ones that connect us to sadness or longing or sorrow, move us so deeply and actually add profoundly to our lives. Susan's first book, Quiet, The Power of Introverts in a

World That Can't Stop Talking, literally changed my life and the life of millions of people around the world. It has been translated into 40 languages, spent seven years on the New York Times bestseller list, was named the number one book of the year by Fast Company, which also happened to name Susan, one of the most creative people in business. And Susan and I have actually been friends since long before she launched her Quiet Revolution. I have always so appreciated her gentle presence, her deep wisdom and generosity and kindness and a level of introspection and curiosity and contemplative thought that is just so rare these days. And lucky for us all, she has been focusing those observational intellectual

superpowers on a topic that is so universal, yet so misunderstood, longing. Susan's new masterpiece, Bittersweet, How Sorrow and Longing Makes Us Whole. It's a powerful look at why that feeling of yearning, of bittersweetness and longing is in fact not just common to every sentient being, but also necessary and a critical element of a life well lived. And in fact, source fuel for some of the greatest works of art and science and creation in human history. And that is exactly what we're diving into today. So excited to share this conversation with you. And a quick note before we dive in. So at the end of every episode, I don't know if you've ever heard this, but we actually recommend a similar episode. So if you love this episode,

at the end, we're going to share another one that we're pretty sure you're going to love too. So be sure to listen for that. Okay, on to today's conversation. I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is a Good Life Project. If you're at a point in life when you're ready to lead with purpose, we can get you there. The University of Victoria's MBA in Sustainable Innovation is not like other MBA programs. It's for true changemakers who want to think differently and solve the world's most pressing challenges. From healthcare and the environment to energy, government, and technology, it's your path to meaningful leadership in all sectors. For details, visit uvic.ca slash future MBA. That's uvic.ca slash future MBA.

That's uvic.ca slash future MBA. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes.

The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were gonna be fun. January 24th. Tell me how compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun. On January 24th.

Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him. Y'all need a pilot? Flight Risk. Susan Gain, it is so good to be hanging out with you. We've been friends for a long time.

Since before the release of your first book, Quiet. I was trying to think, it went back quite a while. And I've known you to be just this deeply thoughtful and wise human being. I know you might like raise an eyebrow at the wise part because you're very humble. And somebody who also latches onto a topic or an idea and you don't go surface level. It's just not in your DNA. Like if something fascinates you, you go really deep into it. So the first time was, I think it was five years or so, you went deep into the world of introversion as you were writing the book Quiet. And now it's the topic of bittersweet or bittersweetness. And there's so much that I want to dive into with

this topic. But I'm also, I'm so curious when you say yes to writing a book or going deep into something like this, it's a years long yes. What was it about this topic, about bittersweetness, about longing that was so compelling to you that you said, I'm going to devote years of my life to understanding this? Okay. Well, first of all, before I answer that question, I just want to say it's so amazing to be here with you and a toast to our long friendship. And yeah, the answer to that question could take years in and of itself, but I will do my best. Well, yes, it is my nature to go really deep and why this topic. I come from a legacy of loss, kind of catastrophic losses on both sides of my family, but also more personal ones. As you know, in the

book, I tell the story of my mother and me and how we had this blissful mother-daughter relationship that kind of came apart during my adolescence and was really never the same again until very recently, really just in the last couple of years, we've kind of found a redemption. And it was a loss that I took very hard. I mean, to the point that as I write about in the last couple of years, we've kind of found a redemption. And it was a loss that I took very hard. I mean, to the point that as I write about in the book for decades, I could not speak about my mother without crying. And I don't just mean I couldn't tell her story. I mean, I couldn't say a simple thing like my mother grew up in Brooklyn without crying. And I started to realize just through my travels around the world that that kind of thing wasn't

just my story. It was everyone's story. I don't mean the particulars of it, but that it's no accident that the Garden of Eden is the foundational myth of Western culture. You know, that story of losing the garden, like we all lose it. And for some people, that's the end of their perfect relationship. And for some people, maybe the love of their life broke up with them or they die, or maybe you felt accepted by your family until they discovered what your true sexuality was. Whatever it is, all of these are stories I've been told. And the question is, what are we supposed to do with these losses that are so central to being human? Now, if I only had that question, I would not have written the book. But I started to feel in my midlife, let's say, I started to feel like I was finding an answer to that question. And that inside our sorrows and longings, truly, that really is the pathway to creativity and to connection and love and transcendence. I mean, I kept finding it there in so many different ways. And I realized that that is a power and that is a truth that our culture is not talking about. Yeah. And so universal, you know, it's almost like nobody, it's one of these things where

if you're fortunate to be alive long enough, and oftentimes it actually doesn't take that long, everybody is going to experience it at some point. So it's something that we can share with other people. I'm curious also about the word. The title of the book is Bittersweet. And I know you went through like a lot of sort of like, what should the word be? You know, what word kind of brings this all together? And I think bittersweet is a really beautiful representation of the feeling that you're talking about. But let's actually deconstruct that.

When we're talking about this feeling, bittersweetness, longing, what are we actually talking about? So we're talking about the reality that joy and sorrow, light and dark, bitter and sweet are forever and fundamentally paired. That is the nature of reality. We're living in a culture that doesn't want us to admit that. I mean, until recently, we're just facing such grave challenges that you can't possibly not admit it. But historically, our culture hasn't wanted us to see this, this fundamental nature of reality. Also, this feeling of there being bittersweetness is also about the fact that impermanence is the fundamental lesson of life. Everything is impermanent. That which you love most, that which is most beautiful, is also impermanent.

But the flip side of that, and that can seem like a really depressing thing to be taking in, except that the flip side is true too, right? That whenever you're looking at something dark and bitter and impermanent, it is also by its nature, sweet and full of joy and full of love and transcendence. That's the deal. You can't cleave off one and just have the part that you like. And I think it's interesting, right? Because I think sometimes we look at it and we say, okay, so if I could just take the juicy part of this, the good part of this, the part that makes me joyful and like feeds my soul, I would just choose that and leave the loss and the sorrow and the grief and the heaviness behind.

But in fact, it's that other half that makes the good part good in no small part. Yeah. And I mean, yes, it's true. But like, I bet you people listening and certainly for me, you know, even I listened to you saying that and I think, okay, yeah, yeah. But you know, if I could make it, if I could wave a magic wand and get rid of all the dark stuff, of course I would do it. I think anybody would. So I don't exactly look at it like that. I look at it more like, well, this is the reality that we have. This is life. And the fact that we are all in this situation together, to me, is the heart of love and connection. And it's a kind of bridge that

binds us together that we're not even aware that we have. And I mean, I'll tell you where I first started coming to all this. There's so many representations of it. But as you know, because together that we're not even aware that we have. And I mean, I'll tell you where I first started coming to all this. There's so many representations of it, but as you know, because we've been friends for a while, I have long been obsessed with minor key, bittersweet music. When I listen to music like that, it doesn't make me feel sad. You know, whether it's Leonard Cohen or Beethoven or whatever, I'm not feeling sad. What I'm feeling, and I think a lot of people, I know from research that a lot of people share this experience. Why do we like sad music? You feel kind of uplifted. You feel a sense of like a kind of soaring quality. You feel a kind

of awe that the musician could transform pain into beauty the way that they did. And most of all, you feel a sense of connection with all the other people who have felt the same sorrow that that musician is trying to express. It's a sense of connection. That, I think, is the great redemption of the difficult times that befall us. The fact that we are all subject to them. You know, like you look at someone who walks by on the street or, you know, the social media influencer who may drive you crazy either with their eternal shininess or their two fierce takes. You know, even that person, they are all fragile and subject to this nature of reality. And that is a great binding experience if we look at it that way. And that's what the musicians are telling us.

It is amazing. I was thinking about that as I was sort of like reading, because I know about your love of music. And I was thinking about like, okay, so if I think back in my own experience of music, whether it's music that I'm just listening to where I'm transported, but also connected in a way that I didn't expect, or whether I go way back in my history where I was a club DJ when I was in college and I was thinking to myself, you know, there are different ways to put together music and rhythm and beats in a way that brings people into this sort of synchronous, Milt Durkheim describes as collective effervescence, right? Yeah. But that extra bridge of feeling, not just soaring, feeling like you are literally just sort of like part of a super organism that is feeling together this shared sense of something deep and profound. It is. It's that minor key stuff. It's the stuff where I'm walking

down the street and I'm just listening to a random playlist and I just stop and I start to weep. And not because I'm sad, because it's like something in me is being stirred so deeply that I just want to hug everyone. That's so powerful. Exactly. Exactly. And why is it that you want to hug someone? I mean, when we stop and think, what does that mean? Why would that be our reaction to being stirred that way and to being stirred by a sad stimulus? But that actually is the case. And we can talk about all the neurobiological reasons that this is true. Because basically what happened is I'd had this obsession with minor key music for such a long time, this response to it, I had wondered about it for decades. And it was really like trying to

resolve that question to answer that question that set me off on this quest in the first place. So there are all kinds of answers to the question. But one of the first things I found is that, you know, I started looking, I looked at artists and writers and the tradition of music and wisdom traditions, you know, and then into psychology and neuroscience too. And the first thing you find is that people have been grappling with this mysterious force that you and I are trying now to articulate. People have been grappling with this for centuries. And everybody knows the ineffability of this force. So when you look at writers and philosophers trying to talk about it, they'll say things like C.S. Lewis called it the inconsolable longing for we know not what. I forget which poet it was who talked about it as the great mysterious force that everybody is aware of, but no one can explain. So this is part of why this book took me so long to write because it was like, okay, how do you explain that which cannot be explained? And yet it's one of our deepest, greatest powers.

Yeah. And deepest, greatest powers to bring us into a sort of like a place of shared humanity, which we need now more than ever. Which we need now more than ever. Yeah. You know, you also, there's an interesting distinction that you make also between sort of describing it not so much as you're like, oh, there's this bittersweet thing that happened to me, or there's this bittersweet event or moment or interaction. And distinction between that and almost like a state of bittersweetness that I thought was important to tease out. Yeah, that's right. Because we do tend to think of, okay, what is bittersweetness? You know, it's a particular experience. It's maybe the moment when you're

leaving behind a job, your last day of a job that you've always loved, but you're also looking forward to your new experience. We would call that bittersweet. Or graduation day, leaving behind your university experience, but you're going forth into the world. So it's happy and sad at the same time. And that's true. These are specifically bittersweet moments that we have, but there's more to it than that. There is a fundamental state of bittersweetness that I believe all human beings live in. We're not always in touch with it. But what I started to realize actually, is that bittersweetness is actually kind of, it's the secular expression of what we might call spiritual longing. And for people who think

of themselves as more on the secular, less religious side of things, we're not as much in tune with what this state is. But it's basically like we all exist in a state of longing for a better, more perfect, more beautiful world than the one that we live in now. We all wish we could live in a different world. That's human nature. And when you express that religiously, you know, it ends up looking like the longing for Eden or for Mecca or for Zion. Like the way the Sufis put it is the longing for the beloved of the soul, which is the Sufi word for God. And I love that. For people who are on the more secular side of the spectrum,

though, we have that sense also. We just don't have a language and a vocabulary to express it. And we deeply need one because it is that kind of spiritual longing that it's at the heart of our best impulses, you know, the impulses that bring us together and the impulses that drive us to create things. Like the whole reason we get creative is because we're longing to bring into being something that seems like it yoga era, dive into Peloton workouts that work with you. From meditating at your kid's game to mastering a strength program, they've got everything you need to keep knocking down your goals. No pressure to be who you're not, just workouts and classes to strengthen who you are. So no matter your era, make it your best with Peloton. Find your push. Find your power.

Peloton. Visit Peloton at onepeloton.ca. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun. January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what's the difference between me and you? You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series X is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping.

And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. You write, bittersweetness shows us how to respond to pain by acknowledging it and attempting to turn it into art the way musicians do or healing or innovation or anything else that nourishes the soul. There's a utility to this

state that, you know, it's almost like it's a feeling that we have that unites us. And at the same time, I feel like it's also pointing us in certain directions that might make us sort of like feel the way we want to feel. Yeah, absolutely. I mean, one of the great recipes for lack of a better word that I came out with from this years long exploration is the idea that whenever we can, we should try to transform pain into beauty. So it's just those four words, transform pain into beauty, because basically what happens is, okay, we're all human. So we're all going to have all kinds of painful experiences along with our amazing ones. And that's life. If you don't acknowledge that pain, if you bury it, or if you just let it sit there, then what you will invariably end up doing is taking it out on other people. You'll find some way of transferring that pain to somebody else because it becomes too unbearable. But what I'm

saying in this book is that there's another root there, and it's a root that acknowledges that pain is part of life, that doesn't regard it as unusual when it happens. Oh, this is what happens to everybody. And then what do you do with it? How do you transform it? And I found so many. You'll see, once you start looking for this, there's infinite examples of these people everywhere around us transforming pain into beauty. So one of my favorite examples that I write about is Maya Angelou, who, you know, by the time she was still a little girl had withstood more pain than anybody should in a lifetime. You know, she was abandoned by her parents and sent across the country with a sign pinned to her chest that said,

to whom it may concern. She was raped, I think, before the time she was eight years old. You know, all kinds of indignities. And these got to her so much that when she was a little girl, she actually stopped speaking for five years. She didn't talk to anybody but her brother, like no one for five years. And then finally, she met a woman who kind of took her under her wing and who opened her up and got her to start expressing that pain through beautiful language. And she started writing. And what poured out of her was poetry and memoirs and all kinds of language that then, then this was the amazing thing. Then that language then had the power to reach another girl, a generation later, who grew up in incredibly similar circumstances, who read one of

Angela's books, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. And that girl read those pages and thought, oh my gosh, you know, this story, this is exactly what I myself has experienced. This pain, I know this pain of which she writes. How could it be that there's somebody else out there like me who knows about this? And it turns out that girl was Oprah. And then as Oprah says, as she talks about this, you don't have to have gone through that exact identical pain to understand what this thing is, what this phenomenon is that brings us all together. And so that's just one of so many examples of how we can take pain and transform it into something else.

Yeah. And I know a big focus of this work for you is both understanding, but also like, what is that process of alchemy? How does this actually become fuel for something beautiful, for something that connects us? That story is one example. I know Leonard Cohen is sort of the patron saint of this for you in many different ways. And it's interesting because I was sort of like thinking about different people that I've seen or followed or friends with and that create in a lot of different ways and seemingly break the rules and yet have amassed giant followings. Just thinking really quickly on Instagram, like two people I know, Mara Andrew and Morgan Harper Nichols,

and they write these little stanzas and then an illustration. Neither of them are trained artists, neither. But what they're writing about is not, yay, let's all do this. They're writing about, they're giving language to shared lament and longing. And in doing so, they've amassed like followings of millions and millions of people. And I was really wondering, like, I've always wondered like what's going on there. And this explains, I think, a lot of that is that when

people see that not only others share that feeling, but when somebody actually takes that feeling inside of themselves and turns it into language that describes it in a way that others can step into. It's like such a powerful moment, whether that language is the written word, whether it's notes on a staff, whatever it may be. And yet we're kind of told to steer away from that, that that's not the way that you actually go out and affect people. Yeah, no, there is a feeling that that is somehow not permitted. And I'm not sure that the following thing is exactly where you were going, but there's something that struck me as you were talking that I wanted to make sure to say, which is that I love the idea of people who express these things and are able to reach millions.

It is also true that when we talk about transforming pain into beauty in this way, it doesn't mean that you have to become one of the world's most successful artists or creators. It's really just the act of the creation, the act of trying to make that transformation. That's really where the beauty and the nobility lies. And I'll just give you a kind of metaphor for this. There's the saying, a Jewish saying that if you've saved one life, you've saved the whole world. And I think the same is true with our creative impulses. Maybe whatever you do, you set pen to paper, you cook a meal, whatever your expression is going to be, and maybe it affects one other person. Or maybe it only

affects you. Maybe the simple act of transforming your pain in this way, you called it alchemy, which I love. Maybe that simple act of alchemy is transformative for you and therefore just for the way you're going to be in the world. So I really do want to free this from the idea that we have that underneath all of this has to be success somehow, like it has to be tied to some kind of worldly success. And it really doesn't. Because as I say, what we're really talking about is more of a spiritual enterprise, even though we don't call it that. Right. And if in fact, there's any kind of sort of like external success that that leads to, it's almost like the byproduct of you just sort of like standing in that place where you're

feeling what you need to feel and giving language to it and expressing it. And it just happens to resonate. Yeah, exactly. And yeah, which, and it's great if it does. It's great if it does resonate with more than one person. It's just that it doesn't have to. Yeah, no, I love that. It also begs an interesting question for me, which is, does art that moves on the level, like it really stirs the soul, it dips into this sort of like pool of longing, does it have to come from that place? Because, you know, I've talked to writers, I've talked to painters, I've talked to artists. I literally knew one person who grew up very privileged, had a very easy life, like a very good life with almost no loss and no longing,

almost everything they wanted. And they wanted to be a writer and read about all of the struggle that these great writers had done. So literally, basically just picked up, bought an old station wagon, drove into the middle of the country with 20 bucks in their pocket and said, I'm going to live off the land for six months to try and manufacture a state of suffering that they just couldn't access naturally in their existence. But I think there's this mythology in the world of art that in order to create great work, you have to endure or sustain great suffering. And that that is in fact a mandatory source fuel for that. And I'm curious where you fall with that. Yeah, this is something I've thought about for a great deal. It's very complex. I would never advise that person who you talked about to go and bring random hardships upon themselves in order to create art, partly because I think creativity has many wellsprings, partly because life will bring hardships to that person one way or another. And the idea of inviting them makes no sense to me. It is at the same time, I guess what I'd say is I do think creativity has many different wellsprings. And it's also true that it does seem to what one of the most major wellsprings does seem to be some desire to make sense of what I think of not really as hardship so much, but as the, you know the conjoined bitterness and sweetness of life. There was one study that I talked about in the book where the researchers took a group of people

and they had them give speeches. And half of the people, their research subjects, half of them gave speeches to an audience that clapped heartily and smiled and appeared to love their talks. And the other half gave talks to audiences that had been instructed to frown and look disapproving and have very lackluster applause at the end. As you can imagine, the people who gave the speeches to the approving audiences said later that they were in a really good mood, whereas the other ones were feeling pretty down. And then the researchers had these people who had just given the speeches make collages. And those collages were rated for creativity by artists later on. And what they found is that the people who had given speeches to disapproving audiences

created better and more creative collages than the ones that hadn't. And that this effect was even more pronounced for the people who had come in with a previous profile for emotional vulnerability and being susceptible to more depressive states. So we see these kinds of studies, there does seem to be some kind of mysterious connection. But again, I see that connection as being the impulse that we have, this transformative impulse that we have. I don't think it's the only transformative impulse, but the impulse to take a lump of coal and turn it into something else, that word alchemy that you kept using. Yeah.

It's this relationship that I kind of wish wasn't. Yes, exactly. You know, because you want to invalidate the notion of suffering related to producing something deeply creative and that touches other people. Because you don't kind of want that to be so. And like you said, it is not the only fuel, the only source of creativity and artistry. And yet it's a powerful one. And I wonder if you look at the art that moves people, that is created by folks who are living in or passing through this state of bittersweetness. And if there was some way to actually run a study where you then measured that art

and the way that it affected other people in contrast to other art that is perceived as, quote, beautiful or great or technically exquisite, if there's something about that lands differently, I kind of don't want it to be so, but I also in you'd find is that very often they were created by people who had had both kinds of experiences so that, you know, when you're portraying the joy, you're doing it with the knowledge that it's set against a backdrop of something else. And that somehow infuses the work. Yeah, I think the distinction that just sort of rolled into my mind is between elevation and appreciation and the feeling of communion. And that feeling of communion, I'm wondering if it can come from a feeling within the creator that is just pure positivity and joy and appreciation and gratefulness. Maybe it can. I would imagine it can, but I have to sort of like think it takes me longer to figure out what work I've been moved. And also, who knows what the actual state of the artist or the creator was if you don't know that person or you're trying to go back in history maybe.

But how many millions of people have created incredible things and you have no idea what's actually going on in their mind. I remember hearing something about Hemingway saying like everyone's always tried to deconstruct the old man in the sea. And he's like, there's no symbolism. It means nothing. It's an old guy. It's a fish. It's a like, there's no symbolism. It means nothing. It's an old guy. It's a fish. It's a sea. It's a town. End of story. Like, don't ask what was in my mind and what the symbolism was. Well, one of the examples that I'm thinking about as you speak is Beethoven's Ode to Joy, which, you know, as its name suggests, is all about joy. And in fact, it comes from a poem by, I think it was by Frederick

Schiller, I may be mispronouncing that, which was all about, you know, positivity and enlightenment values, which Beethoven loved. And he loved these values so much that he worked on the music representing this poetry, I think it was for decades before he actually performed it, or, you know, released it to the world. And what happened is that during the time that he was working on it, he actually started to go deaf and encountered all these other difficulties in his life. So that by the time Ode to Joy was performed for a live audience, he was basically completely deaf. He couldn't actually hear the music that the musicians were performing, this music that he had written. And he stood on the stage with them alongside the conductor with his back turned to the audience. And he was trying to kind of indicate to the orchestra with his body language, the music that he heard in his head. So he was like flailing around and throwing his body this

way and that. And finally, the music was over and the orchestra stopped playing. And Beethoven didn't know this because he couldn't hear it. And one of the soloists turned him around to face the audience who had stood up and were saluting him. They knew that he couldn't hear their applause, but they had tears streaming down their faces. And what they had heard in his music, and the reason they wanted to salute him so much, they had heard in this ode to joy, the echoes of sorrow also. It was like the music was expressing their own longing and their own suite of seemingly conflicting emotions of joy and sorrow. It's all there in that piece. Like, all you have to do is listen to it. Maybe we should even add a little bit of it strung into

this podcast for people to hear, because you can't listen to it without being struck by the juxtaposition of these two emotions in one of music's greatest works. I so agree. As you're sharing that, I had this bizarre reflection also. I was in my early teens when I first heard Mozart's Requiem Mass, and I was moved to tears, but not sad tears, but this is a Requiem Mass. And in theory, this is deeply sad and longing and loss-oriented. And I felt this just profound sense of expansiveness and connection. Expansiveness. Exactly. Exactly. I mean, the word longing, the word longing comes from, one of its roots is to reach, to reach for.

So it's not like about lack. It's about reaching for something higher. And I think that's where the expansiveness comes from. Yeah. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun.

On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him, we need him. Y'all need a pilot? Flight risk.

The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X.

Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required, charge time and actual results will vary. So you've gone into the neurobiology, like what's actually happening in our bodies and our brains when we are experiencing these feelings. Talk to me a little bit about like what is actually going on from a neurological and a physiological level. Yeah. Okay. And from an evolutionary level, we really have to talk about because what's really happening is that we as human beings and the mammals who came before us, we are primed to respond to the cries of our infants. That's how the whole species survives. And because we are primed to respond to those cries,

we're also primed to respond to any expression of sorrow and vulnerability. And this is deep and it's fundamental. And we know this because people like the psychologist, Acker Keltner, have been doing studies and they find that, for example, we all have in our bodies, the vagus nerve, and this is a kind of bundle of nerves, the biggest nerve system in our bodies. And it's also our most fundamental. I mean, it's your vagus nerve that is related to digestion and breathing and the sexual impulse. Like, you know, all our most basic drives are controlled in part by the vagus nerve. Well, it's also your vagus nerve that responds when you see somebody in distress, your vagus nerve becomes activated. And that's like amazing when you think about it. It's amazing

because it's saying that our instinctive and automatic and sort of pre-conscious reaction to other people's distress is as fundamental as our need to breathe. So think about what that tells us. And this is not to say that we don't also as humans and as mammals have all kinds of, you know, shockingly horrifying proclivities to cruelty and war and this kind of thing, because we have that also. But it is to know that this idea of compassion and of a visceral response to others' sorrow is not kind of Sunday school pablum. You know, it's not just like a feel-good thing that we recite obligatorily, but don't really believe.

It's actually deep and it's real. And I keep thinking, you know, we're at this time in our world, in our country and in our world of such profound divisiveness. And if we could find a way to lock into that particular mechanism of just visceral response to other people's distress, period, that could be one of the bridges that could lead us out of this. Yeah, I mean, it's so powerful. And like you said, this is kind of hardwired into all of us. It's not just, it's not fluff.

Yeah. And you figure if something is in all of our nervous systems for so long, you know, the research lens would say, well, if something persists within us for generations or thousands or millions of years, it doesn't persist unless it serves a purpose, you know, because if it doesn't, it just kind of drops away, you know, it is sort of like a bread out of us to a certain extent, you know, if it serves the purpose of us being able to feel each other. And as Dr. Keltner says, it's sort of one of the fuels for compassion, then yeah, right now at this moment in time, we all need to be feeling it more than ever. But one of the things I think stops so many of us, and we kind of glossed over earlier in the conversation, is this notion of, but we shouldn't feel that way, you know, because it's not a good feeling.

That's the early label put on it, you know, who wants to feel bad? And there has been this sort of like Western cult of toxic positivity, that phrase is being thrown around increasingly these days, that kind of says, don't go there. And if you feel it, immediately do whatever you can to sort of like shut it off, which is interesting because I'm hearing that as much now at a time where I think we need that as this foundation for connectedness and compassion. But that is, I still feel like the dominant culture is no, no, no, no, no. We don talking about wallowing in these kinds of feelings. That's not really the point. And I do think that's the fear. I think the fear is that once we acknowledge these kinds of states, that it's so big that we won't be able to turn it off, you know, and you won't be able to get out. So I think that's important to say too. But I do think that, yeah, what's really happened is that our culture has become defined by a binary of winners and losers. And I talk about this in the book. And you can kind of trace the growth of this. And now I'm talking particularly about US culture, but you see it playing out more broadly than that too. So you can see over the

last century or two, the growth of the idea that if fortune smiles upon you, if things are going well for you, if you're wealthy, if you're successful, whatever it is, that is not because of good fortune, as that phrase implies, good luck. It's not that. It's because of some quality that's inside you. And you can literally trace the shift of this in our history. And so, use of the word loser, for example, has gone up and up and up over the previous decades. This idea of being a loser. It's no longer that you lost something. It's no longer that your business went under. Even in the Depression, the Great Depression starting in 1929 and into the 30s, when all these people were losing their fortunes because of all kinds of market forces, there was this feeling that the people who had lost it all, it was because of

some quality inside them. So what started happening is no one wanted to be a loser, right? That was like the last thing in the world you wanted to be. And if you don't want to be a loser, well, the first thing you want to do is avoid the emotions that seem to be associated with loss, right? So the emotions of sadness, emotions of longing would seem to be the emotions of a quote, loser. Now that's not actually true. Like the emotions truly of the most integrated and kind of holistically successful people are a mix of everything that life has to offer and the mastery of those emotions. But that's not how we think about it. What we think is, let me not be a loser at all costs. That's all theoretical, but can I tell you an example of how this plays out? Yeah, please. Okay. So I actually went back as part of this five-year quest that I went on. I went back to my college campus. I went to Princeton.

And when I was a student at Princeton, it had seemed very much to me as if other than the close friends who opened up to me about whatever in their lives, it had seemed that everybody was incredibly, almost iconically shiny and successful. And, you know, they had already reached wherever they were meant to be in life. And that was that. And I went back 30 years later and I thought, let me actually just talk to these students. I just want to see kind of what's up 30 years later. And it's this amazing thing when you're a writer or a journalist, you can kind of show up with your reporter's notebook and talk to people about anything. So that's what I did.

And it was kind of amazing. Within literally two minutes of these conversations of my asking, what are you really feeling? What's really happening? These students start talking to me about this phenomenon that they call effortless perfection. And this is basically the idea that not only do you need to be perfect, quote perfect, which means slim, fit, attractive, great grades, socially adept, you know, the whole package. It also has to appear to come without any effort. So you get great grades, but you never show that you're studying. You work out and you diet,

but you don't want to talk about that either. Everything has to be effortless. And this isn't just at Princeton. This is a phenomenon at colleges all over the place. So much so that in the last few years, we've been seeing these news reports of students dying by suicide. And very often, people are shocked when these suicides come because two days earlier, the very student who had killed themselves had posted something on Instagram where they're smiling and surrounded by all their friends. And this is the phenomenon that we're living in. You can't acknowledge any of your true emotions. You can't do it. And then it all piles up. So I guess what I'm saying is we have to get back to our cultural roots of understanding that loss is part of the human condition. And that's why the Garden to. But, you know, it's interesting because that also it speaks to, in an interesting way,

Carol Tweck's work about fixed versus growth mindset, because what they're essentially saying is that we're also sort of just innately talented, that we can just show up and all of this stuff comes to us. But that wiring, if that starts to become part of your actual belief system, also means that internally when you are starting to hit those walls, well, A, it's a fiction. It's not actually really happening. It's just everyone's painting that picture. But even if you do believe it, then it's really destructive because the minute you hit something where you actually do have to exert effort, you think that you're at the end of your capabilities and you're done. You're cooked

for life, which is sort of like piling onto the brutalization of that. Yeah. Yeah. And I, you know, I'll give you an example of how this played out in my life. I'm trying to think of which one to talk about, but this is a small thing, but we went on a family vacation when my kids were little and we rented a country house and it was right next to this field that was lived in by two donkeys named Lucky and Norman. And my boys like fell in love with these donkeys and they spent all day, you know, feeding them apples and carrots. And it was this beautiful romance between them and the donkeys. And then, you know, the week was almost over. And about two days before it was time to leave, the boys started crying themselves to sleep at night because they didn't want to say goodbye to the donkeys. And, you know, we tried all the different ways of cheering them up and,

you know, the donkeys will be fine and another family will come and feed them and all this stuff and nothing really worked. And you know what actually made them feel better was when we said goodbyes are part of life and everybody feels them and you felt them before and you'll feel them again. But it's also okay because a day will before and you'll feel them again. But it's also okay because a day will come that you'll be able to look back at Lucky and Norman and you'll smile and you'll have a great memory. But in the meantime, just know that this feeling that you're having, this is part of life. Everybody has it. And that insight came to them as a huge relief. I mean, they didn't say, oh, I'm so relieved now, but you could just see it. And it's because we inadvertently teach our kids that, you know, for kids growing up in relative comfort, we were inadvertently

teaching them that life is when everything is going well and that everything else is the detour. Everything else is wrong. And so you should like fight against it with all your might. And that's a really disempowering lesson for kids to learn, as opposed to teaching them both of these things are part of life and you have the strength to deal with both of them. You're going to be able to prevail no matter what, once you accept this is the nature of things. And again, not to tell them that life is only goodbyes, just that this is one aspect of it. That's the thing. Yeah. I mean, to allow it all in, which also plants a seed that says, you know, this is this age old question, you know, like, is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? And it's like, you know, don't avoid so many experiences because at the end of the day, you may end up losing a part of the experience. And that may cause this really like feeling of loss and sorrow and bittersweetness.

And you have these three words that you offer in the book. You know, like when you look at a circumstance and those three words are, but even so, yes, you've done this and you've loved it. And there's joy and there's connection. And you may lose that or the feeling may go away. The circumstance may go away. The person, the being may go away, but even so let's do it. Like it's, it's worth it and allow yourself to feel it. It's not about like only choosing the things that you feel will never land you in this feeling. It's saying yes to all of it and knowing that it may happen, but even so, you know, this is still so, so worth the investment of your love and your energy and your time. It's so worth the investment. And it's also that every other being feels it and

experiences it. And there really is something you can tap into there that opens you up to a kind of profound love to know this. I'll give you an example of this. The Cleveland Clinic Hospital, they did this video that was supposed to just be for their caregivers. And the idea of the video was to teach empathy to their caregivers. And it ended up going madly viral. And the reason is what this video did, they would show you these random people just walking through the hospital corridors. So these are people, if you were in a hospital, you would normally just walk past them without really thinking twice.

But in this case, the video showed you with just a little caption underneath each person, it showed you what that person was going through at that moment. Like, so in one case, it was, you know was found out that their tumor was malignant. In another case, it's a little girl and she's visiting her father for the last time. And then there were some happy ones also, just got engaged or just found out he's going to be a dad, things like this. And what you experience when you watch this video, it's deeply physical. It's like a physical feeling of love. I don't know how to express it any better than that. You literally can feel your chest muscles expanding as you watch. It's something about the fact that this video opens us up to the shared experiences of all

humanity. That's the real thing we need not to lose sight of. Yeah, it's that expansiveness and connectedness. It's interesting. So many people know Viktor Frankl in this country for the book under the title Man's Search for Meaning, but the original German title, the rough translation from what I understand actually was, say yes to life nonetheless, which is sort of like embodies that, but even so thing. And so many people who have read that book now, tens of millions of people have felt this profound sense of meaningfulness and connectedness from that same thing. And it was interesting to me that some decision was made when the book hit the shores of that. We need, that can't be the title here. Oh, is that right? Yeah. I mean, cause it was translated into man's search for meaning

from the original of say yes to life nonetheless. Oh, I see. That's so interesting. Right. It has to be positive here. Right. Yeah. Yeah. You know, that's like one of the things that I did in this book was learn all about and start practicing loving kindness meditation. And I studied with Sharon Salzberg, who is one of the leading teachers of this type of meditation. And she told me that the standard phrases that you would use in this type of meditation would be, I don't remember them exactly, but it's something like, may you be free from suffering, may you be free from pain. But when she started teaching in California, the students all lined up afterwards and they were like, we don't want to think about pain and suffering. So she changed the phrases for them to may you feel ease, may you

be happy. It's like there's something in our culture that just doesn't want to even admit, like doesn't even want to ping the words. That's so funny. It's funny also because generally every Sunday morning, I listen to Sharon Salzberg guiding me through loving kindness meditation. And so I know that refrain really well. And it's the shorthanded version. I'm like, now I actually need to go find the expanded version where I can really sort of

get the full impact of it. You write in the book, to fully inhabit these dualities, the dark as well as the light is paradoxically the only way to transcend them. And transcending them is the ultimate point. Bittersweet is about the desire for communion, the wish to go home. Talk to me about home. What does that actually mean? Yeah, I mean, it means so many different things. For a religious person, home means access

to that, whether it's God or, you know, that perfect and beautiful world that I was talking about. And as I said, what I've come to understand is that whether you're a secular person or a spiritual person, it kind of means the same thing. And so that's what home is. It's like a sense of being able to approach that state in which everything is perfected and everything is made beautiful or truthful or whatever highest value you're thinking of. And I don't believe that we can achieve that state here on this earth, but I believe that the reaching for it is the highest state that we have. And that's what going home is. And so it's going to look

different for everybody. But I mean, what I say is like, follow your longing where it's telling you to go. What are you deeply, truly longing for? What world are you longing for? And orient yourself in the direction of that thing is that's the noble calling, I believe. Yeah. And I think the reason that we react to music the way we do, just kind of coming back to where we started, music tells us that without words. I think that's what we're feeling. When you feel really moved by music, like think about what you're feeling. It is the embodiment of that more perfect and beautiful world. And it's like you're catching a glimpse of it for just a moment. And that's why you feel so transported by it.

So agree. I feel like music, it bypasses the intellect. It bypasses everything that's from the neck up and it just lands in the heart. There are no defenses because there's nothing rational to argue against. It just is. It makes you feel. It lands directly inside of you rather than having to sort of convince you to step into a certain experience. And I think that's one of the really powerful things about it. You know, I'll give you a more concrete sort of story to illustrate what I mean about following this longing. And I talk about this in the book that I went through a period in my life when I was younger, where I had just ended a seven-year relationship.

I had just ended my career as a lawyer. So I was kind of like floating in this free state, no more career, no more love. Like I was sort of in between everything. And I fell into a relationship with a musician actually. And it became this kind of crazy, obsessive relationship where I've never experienced anything quite that intense before or since, but this was the era before smartphones. So I would spend my days in New York City running into internet cafes to see if he had just emailed me. It was kind of like that. I had a friend, Naomi, and I would tell her all about him and about these feelings of obsession that I had for him and would, I think, regale her and bore her probably with whatever the recent

story was about him. And one day she said to me, you know, if you're this obsessed with somebody, it's not really about the person themselves. It's about what they represent to you. So you're obsessed with him because you're longing for something. So what is the thing that you're longing for? What does he represent to you? That which you long for that you don't have right now. And it was like the minute she said that, I knew exactly what she meant. And I knew that he, to me, represented a creative and artistic life because he was a musician and he was one of the first people I had met after coming out of these years of being in corporate law. And I realized what I was really longing for was a writing life, a creative life. And I know this sounds too cinematic, let's say, to be true, but I swear the obsession just fell apart at that exact instant. It fell apart. And I still

loved him, but I was no longer obsessed with him. I was no longer even really attracted to him. And I started writing and that was it. Oh, that is so interesting. It's sort of like you realize what was really going on and start to channel it differently. Yeah. Yeah. You write whatever pain you can't get rid of, make it your creative offering. I know, as you have shared, there's been a lot of pain in your life and in no small part over the last few years with the loss of your brother and your father during the window where you were writing this book. Do you feel like this book is part of your creative offering as you process this sort of increased burden of loss over the last few years for yourself?

Oh, my gosh. I mean, absolutely. Yes. I mean, I was writing the book even before COVID came and, you know, so before my father and brother died from it, but because I had been feeling these things all my life to one degree or another. But yeah, I was actually, how can I say this? I didn't, I didn't start to write the book as a kind of catharsis. I wrote it just because I wanted to explore these questions. But what I have been completely floored by is how much the process of writing this book has resolved these things for me in so many ways. I mean, there's always grief and there's always loss, but I guess there is something profound about taking pain and turning it into something else. I mean, I come back to that and making that your creative offering. It really does bring you to a kind of resolution. I told you at the beginning how it used to be that I couldn't talk about my break from my mother in adolescence. I couldn't talk about that without crying. And I remember while I was writing the book, I was talking to friends and saying like, how am I going to go out on a publicity tour for this book?

Because I'm writing about that break and maybe somebody is going to ask me about it and I'm just going to like start bawling on national radio and that would be terrible. Or I mean, it felt like it would be embarrassing. And I remember one of the people who I said this to saying, well, you know, ask me that question when you're done writing the book and we'll talk about it then. And at the time I thought, oh yeah, that's one of those nice things that people say. It's kind of nonsense, but it sounds nice. But it's actually really true, the extent to which you do come to a kind of resolution by going through this act of transformation. Because I don't feel that need to cry anymore, and I do feel a very deep emotional resolution from all these losses.

So powerful. Feels like a good place for us to come full circle as well. So sitting here in this container of Good Life Project, if I offer up the phrase to live a good life, what comes up? Honestly, what I thought of instantly was my family. So I guess love. Love is what comes up. Period. Yeah. You know, and just to tell you then what the other thing that came up is my eye strayed to this candle that I have in my office and that I light every single morning when I come to work. And for me, a good life is doing work that I love in a sanctuary space that I've created, you know, with my candle and my coffee and the warm glow of my special lamp and all these different things. I think we shouldn't underestimate their ability to create a good life for ourselves.

Love that too. Thank you. Well, thank you so much, Jonathan. I always love talking to you. You as well. Hey, before you leave, if you love this episode of. I always love talking to you. You as well. And of course, if you haven't already done so, please go ahead and follow Good Life Project in your favorite listening app. And if you found this conversation interesting or inspiring or valuable, and chances are you did since you're still listening here, would you do me a personal favor, a seven second favor and share it? Maybe on social or by text or by email, even just with one person. Just copy the link from the app you're using and tell those you know, those you love, those you wanna help navigate this thing called life a little better so we can all do it better together

with more ease and more joy. Tell them to listen. Then even invite them to talk about what you've both discovered because when podcasts become conversations and conversations become action, that's how we all come alive together. Until next time, I'm Jonathan Fields,

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January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him, we need him them y'all need a pilot flight risk