Emotional Intelligence (8): Jealousy

Jealousy and Flirtation by Haynes King (1831-1904)

Jealousy — along with her equally twisted twin sister, Envy — is one of the strongest, most unpleasant, futile and all-encompassing of emotions. There are two types of jealousy I'd like to consider. The first is that all-too-common envy we can feel at times towards others. Whether we are jealous of another person's perceived or imagined health, wealth, happiness, status, success, talents, good fortune, family, car, house or garden, it's all the same: the bottom line is that we become insecure, frustrated and bitter, wondering why others seem to have all the luck, and resenting life's injustices. And envy tends to be a state which breeds more envy, just as maggots multiply on rancid meat. No matter how many times we may satisfy our cravings for what our neighbour already appears to possess, more cravings inevitably take their place. There is always something else to be envious of.

Fortunately I learnt long ago about the ugly mechanics of envy, and I am so relieved not to be in its cold, life-denying embrace. It's a great freedom and liberation not to be tied to that ceaseless emotional treadmill. Acceptance of what one is and what one has, gladness at being oneself and not another, contentment with one's lot no matter how unfairly the cards have been dealt — these are the secrets of a happy life. Now, I'm not saying that I'm always content, and cheerful about the way things are, and overjoyed that much of life seems to be a succession of pain, tragedy and disaster. And I'm not saying either that we shouldn't have the ambition to change things, to improve our lives in whatever ways we feel are right. But if such desires are for shallow or impossible things, and if they are fuelled by jealousy and envy, than we are heading straight down the road of unhappiness and dissatisfaction.

The other type of jealousy which comes to mind is, for me, much more difficult to restrain: that is sexual jealousy. I've met a few people who have insisted they do not understand this emotion, and have never felt it, but I don't think this is the case for most of us. Like all kinds of jealousy, sexual jealousy can be a destructive, consuming passion — based, I believe, on insecurity, and a fear of rejection and abandonment. I have felt sexual jealousy at some periods in my life, sometimes obsessively, and have always found it pointless, demeaning and a waste of time and energy — yet this strong, unreasoning emotion always seems to override logic.

Astrologically I am a Scorpio, and "Scorpios are known for their possessiveness and jealousy but on the other hand, they are extremely loyal", according to this Zodiac Signs website. Be that as it may. Shakespeare, however, has more elevated things to say on the subject. In Othello, Iago famously describes jealousy thus: "It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock / The meat it feeds on: that cuckold lives in bliss, / Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; / But, O, what damnéd minutes tells he o'er / Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves!" And Othello's misplaced jealousy gets out of hand: " ... Yet I'll not shed her blood; / Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, / And smooth as monumental alabaster. / Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men."

How does one come to terms with sexual jealousy? The issue is far too complex for me to deal with here in a few words. Suffice to say, I think the trick is to recognise that we are all independent beings in the end, that we are all existentially "on our own", and that we do not possess anyone else, even partially. Possession implies power over someone, and that is not good; it is not our right to expect or exert this. Our loved ones are human like we are and they are not perfect. They are not our property. They are separate beings. They change, they evolve, they may hurt or betray us. Their minds are not our minds. Other minds may contain unshareable secrets and depths we can barely guess at. If we can look at things in this way, with a more realistic kind of balance, we can then begin to differentiate between love and sex, and realise that, although sex may be an important part of love, it is not love itself. Real love should transcend human failings, disappointments, sex and sexual jealousy.

Emotional Intelligence (7): Guilt

Michelangelo's depiction of God, the Father, on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. 

All this talk of emotions and how to manage them is fine in theory, but how do things work out in practice? I'd now like to examine some "challenging" states of mind, using examples from my own life. And "guilt" is a particularly pernicious feeling I've had continuing experience of.

Born into a God-fearing, Methodist family ruled by a strict and domineering father, I was soon acquainted with the notion of guilt and its effects. Although there are differences of emphasis and interpretation, all Christian sects and denominations believe in the concept of "original sin" — the belief that at birth we enter a world already contaminated by sin, the result of the Biblical Fall of Man and our expulsion from the Garden of Eden. From a rational, emotional and instinctual standpoint, I've now believed for a long time just the opposite: that we arrive in this world pure and innocent, and that it's the flawed human world which corrupts us. However, dubious attitudes and ideas drummed into us from early childhood are often hard to dispel. Or, more precisely, we may be able rationally to reject these attitudes and ideas, but the emotional toll they exact on us is often more difficult to reverse.

My parents, especially my father, dinned into me that I would be damned and rot in hell if I sinned.  My youthful crimes and misdemeanours were, on reflection, pretty mild and ordinary: telling lies, swearing, chasing girls in the school playground, masturbation, drawing rude cartoons of my father's lorry driver (which led to the lorry driver reporting this to my father who gave me a beating), being cheeky at Sunday School (again this led to a beating when my father got to know of it). Yet, despite the innocuous nature of these little vices, the corresponding guilt I felt was hugely disproportionate, and hung over me like a black cloud for much of my childhood and early adolescence. I don't want to exaggerate things, as I remember many happy times too: playing with mates, reading books, Christmas, holidays by the sea. Periods when this feeling of "guilt" seemed to subside, when I could overcome it by escaping outside my self. But I would always return wretchedly and with a sinking heart to what seemed at the time to be inescapably my "default" condition, a permanent background state of fearful guilt and anxiety.

Since I was brought up by my parents to be wary of the rough and godless village children, I also found it difficult for a while to mix in with most other normal kids of my age — though I always had a small circle of close friends. All this caused further debilitating feelings of shyness and acute self-consciousness. Much of my school life was therefore a bane to me. Luckily I was intelligent and assiduous, and retreated into my school work, which I found relatively easy. Which begs the question: was I hardworking out of fear of the teachers, out of a desire to please my father, out of an anxiety I might fail, out of guilt? As though hard work and "doing well" would help assuage my constant, irrational guilty state of mind? Because I knew that my father's leather strap was always waiting for me, lurking on a hook behind the tea towel in the kitchen?

I am glad to say that life improved dramatically in my early to mid-teens, and I changed unrecognisably — gaining confidence amongst my peers, with girls and with adults, and claiming my rightful place in the world. At the age of fifteen I walked and hitchhiked through the Swiss Jura. I stood up to my father and informed him that no, I would not be going to chapel with him on Sundays any more. I grew my hair. I read Orwell and Jung and books on Existentialism. I developed, I matured; I side-stepped as best as I could the tyrannical influence of my father. I asserted my true self. I did everything that is "normal" for an adolescent, and I began to love life with a passion and intensity which has never left me to this day. Yet even now — often, ironically, when I am engaged in transparently blameless activities — residues of guilt persist, like ancient dust still clinging to the bottom of a spring-cleaned wardrobe. Fortunately I have been able over the years to deal psychologically with these childhood traumas and irrational guilts and fears, though it has been a gradual process. I think that the seeds of all such long-learnt destructive feelings and emotions remain hidden somewhere deep within us, ready to germinate again if given the opportunity.

Emotional Intelligence (6): Flowing, Transient States Of Mind

It seems natural to follow my last post with some insights from Buddhism. These ideas we've been discussing about standing back a little from our emotions, examining them, not identifying with them completely, recognising they are an important part of us yet not us . . . are fundamental Buddhist concepts.

The twelfth chapter of David Brazier's The Feeling Buddha ends: "This ability to be both in and aside from the feeling at the same time is something that the Buddha taught his disciples to cultivate. He did not teach them to not have feelings. He taught them to allow the process to flow whilst also being able to observe it. The flow of feelings gives us essential information about our lives. To cut them off would be one extreme — the extreme of asceticism. To abandon ourselves to their control would be the other extreme — the extreme of indulgence. The Buddha taught a Middle Way between these extremes, a middle current where life flows effectively. This teaching of observing feeling while in the feelings is given time and again in the Buddha's basic instructions on mindfulness."

Having lived some parts of my life at both of these extremes, I for one now gladly embrace the Middle Way. Mindfulness is the key here, I think — though I'm not going to go into that right now, as many other writers and bloggers have explored it at length, and I've talked about it myself on my other blog The Solitary Walker, particularly with reference to Jon Kabat-Zinn, Steve Hagen, Eckhart Tolle, Krishnamurti and other Buddhist, Zen Buddhist and Buddhist-influenced thinkers.

Stephen Batchelor, in his book Buddhism Without Beliefs, writes: "Much of the time we are driven by a relentless and insistent surge of impulses . . ." (For impulses also read feelings and emotions.) He then goes on to consider randomly one emotion in isolation, the emotion of "hatred": ". . . to embrace hatred does not mean to indulge it. To embrace hatred is to accept it for what it is: a disruptive but transient state of mind. Awareness observes it jolt into being, colouring consciousness and gripping the body. The heart accelerates, the breath becomes shallow and jagged, and an almost physical urge to react dominates the mind. At the same time, this frenzy is set against a dark, quiet gulf of hurt, humiliation, and shame. Awareness notices all this without condoning or condemning, repressing or expressing. It recognises that just as hatred arises, so will it pass away. By identifying with it ('I really am pissed off!'), we fuel it  . . ."

Emotional Intelligence (5): We Are Not Our Emotions

My jumping-off point for this next post about feelings and emotions is Bonnie's wise and helpful comment on my last post. I think it's so important that I'd like to quote it in full:

"With time and attention we can learn not to become identified with our feeling states. We can learn to let them wash over us, giving us the information we need without attaching to them. One of the keys to a balanced, open, healthy emotional life is to relate TO our emotions and not FROM them. E.g. 'Of course I am feeling over-wrought considering the trauma I have just experienced.' You acknowledge the emotion, give it room to be without allowing it to 'rule'.

E-motions are meant to move through us. Our goal should be to not allow them to possess us. Easier said than done, but with practice we can allow the emotion, glean the information it is giving us, and then move on to the next emotion that will surely follow. Feelings are essential to the flow of a human life — adding richness and depth — we just don't have to drown in them as we do when we become identified with them. E.g. 'I am experiencing angry feelings right now' rather than 'I am an angry person'."

Yes! The prime insight here, I think, is the recognition that we are not our emotions. They are closely involved with us but they are separate from us. This perception allows us to distance ourselves from our emotions slightly, to consider them from a more objective standpoint. You could perhaps say that it's our complete self, our whole psyche, that's the essential thing, and emotions take their valued but secondary place within this framework — or rather, as Bonnie states, they move right on through the frame, as feelings always seem to be in flux. Feelings do indeed give richness and depth to our lives, and we would be less than human without them. But we ourselves are more than just our transitory feelings, much more.

In a way, we are the sum of all our emotions, all the feelings we have ever experienced or anyone has ever experienced, just as we are the sum of all our thoughts and actions, and the sum of all anyone has thought or done. We are all connected to a kind of Jungian Collective Unconscious. We are unique individuals, but at the same time we are universally bound together. We are all carbon, all stardust. We all have bodies, brains, thoughts, feelings. And if I'm unable to achieve something in one area of my life, someone will realise it for me in theirs. And vice versa. In this sense, we are all saints and we are all sinners, and everything in-between, and if we truly understand what this means, then it may help us extend empathy towards the whole of mankind.

Emotional Intelligence (4): A Myriad Of Emotions

Grieving (possibly Isis mourning Osiris). A rare piece of Egyptian terra cotta in the Louvre Museum, Paris.

Happiness, sadness, frustration, irritation, humility, pride, confidence, uncertainty, joy, depression, misery, defeat, hope, cynicism, anger, kindness, jealousy, fear, patience, impatience, boastfulness, grief, laziness, listlessness, delight, ecstasy, love, hatred, contentment, envy, greed, ambition, rapture, optimism, pessimism, self-possession, lack of control, melancholy, despair, fondness, passion, sorrow, bliss, embarrassment, contempt, vitality, self-awareness, elation, boredom, guilt . . .

Fifty feelings, emotions and states of mind. A list we could easily extend to one hundred, two hundred more.

I want to thank Amanda for this astute observation:

"It's certainly possible that we can examine the thought itself, but to address the core emotion, respect it for what it is telling us, and then choose wisely our response to the emotion is another path to consider. I don't believe there is such a thing as a negative emotion — emotions themselves are pure. Again, it is how our human mind is domesticated to respond to the emotion in often kneejerk behavior which gets us into trouble."

And I also want to thank Am for her remark that "sins" (or "vices" or "negative qualities") are "part of what it means to be a human being."

I've been thinking about both these comments. We are assailed by feelings and emotions much of the time: some strong, some diluted, some welcome, others not so welcome. They overwhelm us daily, if not hourly — at least they do me. As Am says, feelings and emotions are part of the human makeup.

I know I can seem perhaps unusually emotional for a man (if we accept the cliché that women are more emotional, or show their emotions more readily, than men — though who really knows what's going on behind that male machismo and that stiff upper lip?) I feel a need to express my own feelings, and try to be sensitive to the feelings of others. I cry quite easily while watching romantic films and hearing emotive pieces of music. And so on.

These feelings, and the core emotions from which they come, seem to well up naturally, and, as such, are pure, and to be honoured — as Amanda states. To categorise feelings and emotions simply as positive or negative, good or bad, is a crude and inaccurate shorthand, which does not reflect and respect the complexity of those feelings and emotions, their naturalness and their purity.

I think we are wise to tune in to our feelings, to listen attentively to them and discover what they are telling us. Again as Amanda says, we often seem programmed to act on our feelings with some thoughtless kneejerk reaction — which can be at best unhelpful and at worst destructive.

Speaking for myself, I don't want to be constantly buffeted this way and that by a helter-skelter of emotions, by a tangled, undifferentiated mass of feelings. I don't wish to hide or suppress them, as this can lead to difficult if not dangerous psychological problems. (Anyhow, I like and relish my feelings, on the whole. To feel is to be human, to be alive!) But neither do I wish to be completely ruled by my feelings, to be at their mercy, to be dominated by them so much that I feel powerless and out of control.

So how do we achieve a balance — if balance is what we are agreed upon — of thought and feeling, reason and emotion? How do we integrate emotion into our lives in such a way that we have some control over our feelings and are not totally controlled by them?

Eros and Psyche's kiss.

Emotional Intelligence (3): The Seven Deadly Sins

Don't worry — this is no Catholic tract! I just thought it would be fun to put the medieval Seven Deadly Sins (and their virtuous opposites) under the microscope and discover what they may or may not have to teach us — again as background to our exploration of feelings and emotions . . .

(1) Lust/lechery (luxuria): excessive sexual thoughts and desires. Corresponding virtue: chastity (castitas).

(2) Gluttony (gula): excessive desire for food and drink leading to over-indulgence and over-consumption. Can result in illness, and the deprivation of the genuinely needy. Corresponding virtue: temperance (temperantia).

(3) Greed/avarice/covetousness (avaritia): excessive desire for wealth, status and power. Can result in betrayal, treason, bribery, corruption, trickery, deception, theft, violence and murder. Corresponding virtue: charity (caritas).

All these first three "sins", if taken to excess, may be considered self-centred, lustful appetites, demonstrating a lack of self control which can be dangerous to self and others.

(4) Envy (invidia): closely related to and often resulting in (3) greed. We are certain to cause ourselves torment and may also hurt others in our envious thoughts and pursuits. Corresponding virtue: kindness (humanitas).

(5) Sloth/acedia (socordia/acedia): or laziness, neglect of duties and responsibilities, listlessness — which may lead to melancholy, despair, depression, misery or even, in extreme cases, suicide. Corresponding virtue: diligence (industria).

(6) Anger/wrath (ira): associated with feelings of impatience, hatred, lack of self control — and can lead to acts of revenge, violence, even murder. Corresponding virtue: patience (patientia).

(7) Pride/vanity/vainglory (superbia/vanitas/vanagloria): boasting, hubris, an inflated view of oneself, an unhealthy preoccupation with and love of oneself, narcissism, a condescension even contempt towards others. Bob Dylan called it "the disease of conceit" in his eponymous song. Corresponding virtue: humility (humilitas).

First of all, I suppose one could say that some of these "vices" are pretty good in moderation — I'm thinking of lust, gluttony and sloth in particular. Personally, I couldn't think of anything better than lying in bed all day eating, drinking and having sex. But to do that the next day, and the next, and the next? Perhaps not . . .

Secondly, a certain amount of anger and pride may be viewed as a good thing: anger at injustice may provoke us into trying to remedy the injustice; and if we have pride in our home, our family, our achievements — well, that can't be so bad, can it?

Even a little envy can stir in us a desire to improve our lives . . .

Though the more I look at these Capital Vices — which came to us via The Book Of Proverbs, The Epistle To The Galatians, the fourth-century monk Evagrius Ponticus, Pope Gregory I and Dante's Divine Comedy — the more I'm convinced they really are things to avoid.

I think what I'm really saying here is that a light sinful touch can be ok, even beneficial, but take that soft fingering to the level of heavy groping and you're in for trouble.

Emotional Intelligence (2): Thought, Feeling, Behaviour

The Dharma Wheel, representing Buddhism's Noble Eightfold Path

The counselling technique of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) is founded on the belief that it's our preconceived / learnt / inculcated thoughts and ideas which strongly influence our emotions, and that it's our emotions which strongly influence our actions. Did not Shakespeare's Hamlet say to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern:  ". . . for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so?" If this is the case, then it follows that our emotions and therefore our actions can be reshaped by rethinking our thoughts and views about ourselves / others / the world. Not always easy — but it can be done, as the success of this counselling approach has proved (it's particularly effective in dealing with problems such as phobias, addictions and depressive illnesses).

Even though emotions often seem to arise independently of thought, thought can be used to reconfigure these emotions and thus our behaviours. (To me this at once brings to mind Buddhism's Noble Eightfold Path of Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action etc. According to Buddhist teaching, the random, involuntary stream of thoughts and feelings which runs through our minds much of the time can be consciously stilled and controlled with a little effort, practice, mindfulness and meditation.)

Let's now look at some actual feelings and emotions . . .

Emotional Intelligence (1): The Brain

Diagram of the brain (circa 1300)

According to an established neuro-scientific model it seems that we are possessed of three brains: an original "reptilian" brain — or autonomic nervous system — which controls our visceral, bodily functions and our primal, automatic instincts (e.g. the "fight or flight" response); an amygdala, or "mammalian", or "feeling" brain, which developed at a later stage and is responsible for memory and emotions; and a more sophisticated prefrontal cortex, or "thinking", rational brain, which was the last to evolve. (I'm simplifying here — things are more complex than this, and brain functions much more interrelated. However, this basic pattern will serve my purpose.)

All these three brains come into play, either together or separately, at different times and in different situations. For instance, in states of extreme trauma, the autonomic nervous system can shut down all the other parts of the brain completely. And, as another example, the "thinking" brain is able, to a greater or lesser extent, to control the "feeling" brain and temper extreme emotions. Conversely, the "feeling" brain can at times (e.g. in the throes of a passionate love affair) override the "thinking" brain. A balanced, fully functioning person may be regarded as having a balance between the "thinking" and the "feeling" brain: too much "thinking" may stultify one's emotional and empathic capacity, and too much "feeling" may compromise one's rational mind to a worrying degree.

The reason I'm mentioning all this neurological background stuff  is because I feel a need to write a series of posts about feelings and emotions, particularly negative feelings and emotions: how they arise, how they adversely affect our lives, how we deal with them. I hope you will join me on this emotional journey and perhaps share some of your own personal feelings and experiences along the way . . .