I finished reading Acedia and Me by Kathleen Norris last night and I want to shout (I guess blogging is my shouting), “This book could change your life!”
Acedia - what the hell is that? I’d never heard of it before. Kathleen defines it as:
…as the spiritual aspect of sloth. The word literally means not-caring, or being unable to care, and ultimately, being unable to care that you can’t care. Acedia is spiritual morphine, but it does more than mask pain. It causes us to lose faith in ourselves and in our relationships with others.”
We are awakening from a time of collective spiritual morphine stupor. We sank into a profound state of weary not caring — not everybody, not all the time but a lot of us. Now we feel the breath of hopeful possibility, the brush of optimist trust upon our hearts and to help that goodness grow into sustainable action, we need to name the demon that has beset us (excuse the demon talk but it feels right, especially after reading the book).
There is such power in naming. Reading Kathleen’s struggles with acedia woven with early Christian theology and reflections on contemporary life, I kept having that electrifying feeling of being known. Of “Oh me too, me, too.” I kept having to stop and read sections aloud to Bob.
One reason I wrote this book was to explore my suspicion that much of the restless boredom, frantic escapism, commitment phobia, and enervating despair that plague us today are the ancient demon of acedia in modern dress. When we look at acedia’s root meaning, as not caring, we can see it as a social problem, and perceive that the sloth it engenders is anything but an insignificant physical laziness. It may even manifest as hyper-activity, but it is more like the activity of a hamster on a treadmill than action that will enhance the common good.
I was very glad to find the late playwright Wendy Wasserstein’s observation that “When you achieve true slothdom, you have no desire for the world to change. True sloths are not revolutionaries,” she adds, but “the lazy guardians at the gate of the status quo.” The question she raises is one I think we have to ask ourselves: “Are these hyperscheduled, overactive individuals really creating anything new? Are they guilty of passion in any way? Do they have a new vision for their government? For their community? Or for themselves?” She suspects that “Their purpose is to keep themselves so busy, so entrenched in their active lives, that their spirit reaches a permanent state of lethargiosis.” Lethargy, acedia: in some ways I think they define American culture today. The plethora of 24-hour news sources are perfect carriers of the disease, bombarding us with so much “information” that we can no longer distinguish between what is important and what is not, and discern what we truly need to care about.”
We live in a time where traditional ways of making meaning have mostly vanished. Heck, it used to be surviving was our meaning, then we had close (murderous) tribal ties and work that had a final product that could be touched, eaten, bartered. We had religion.
But in the post-modern world, we’re not even sure we believe in meaning. We often don’t have a community with whom to share our questions of “What the hell am I doing with my life?” We fall prey to a questioning of our life’s purpose that eats away at our souls and our ability to get out of bed. And when we do try to find our purpose, it can easily turn into a narcissistic quest that ends up feeding the acedia.
The concept of acedia has always been closed linked with that of vocation. Acedia was, and remains, the monk’s most dangerous temptation, as it makes the life he has vowed to undertake seem foolish, if not completely futile… Artists can feel a similar disconnect… Acedia is a danger to anyone whose work requires great concentration and discipline yet is considered by many to be of little practical value. The world does not care if I write another word, and if I am to care, I have to summon all my interior motivation and strength.”
I’m in this boat, summoning all my strength to create a life, and work, that feels worthwhile. Have you ever felt that way? What do you think the link between acedia and fear is — I think it’s the petri dish fear grows in.
8 responses so far ↓
1 Amara Nov 8, 2008
Acedia — thought it was one of those much promoted drugs! I have heard of this book and I have experienced the phenonemon, maybe once — oh, ok, twice. Thanks for the great reminder. It’s on my to-read list.
2 gena lande Nov 9, 2008
why the obsession with caring what Others think…Just Do -
if you believe in your heart that what “you” (we) say or write or draw or create has inherent values… then isn’t that all that matters?
it’s really none of my business what others think of me or my work -
3 Helga Nov 9, 2008
I was having trouble with the concept of “Acedia”. Some of the descriptions rang the ‘Me too’ bells, some didn’t. Trying to learn more, I found this lengthy discussion, complete with “antidotes”, by Jiko Linda Cutts http://www.whiterobedmonks.org/macedia.html#T. Think what you may of the discussion, the summary part hits home, I think:
“Summary: Regain Your State of Mind
There is a story told of the Buddha encountering a woman who had lost all her presence of mind, after enduring enormous suffering in her life. With great maitri, Buddha said to tier, “Sister, regain your state of mind.” A friend of mine has that on her computer screen, as a screen saver. When she is at work and the demon acedia has entered, and she is wondering when lunchtime is going to come, and pliancy and joyfulness seem far away, then, being a Good Friend to her own self, she can say, “Sister, regain your state of mind.” Recover your presence of mind. We have the ability to do this.”
Here’s to regaining our minds!
4 Caireen Nov 9, 2008
Yes! I get this - totally. In fact, I think I’ve just has a close encounter with acedia. I’ve had a year of madness; changes happening left, right and centre and so when a recent break up left me feeling utterly drained of everything I found myself thinking, “Who cares? I know I’m too tired to care. Nobody else does, so why should I?”
It didn’t last long though because I recognised it as my way of denying all the feelings that were being dredged up (i.e. a whole year’s worth of coping, moving on, dealing with the change, getting exhausted by it) by this one experience and I focused and am still focussing on letting those feelings be heard and accepted whilst I now move naturally into a time of dormancy and renewal and rest.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that for me, a state of uncaring and sloth is indicative of a state of intense denial. From there it can be a very slippery slope into a dark, unmindful place. So recognising that it is essentially an effort to cope with diffult and possibly overwhelming feelings and allowing yourself to gently let those feelings through in supportive, constructive ways, such as those you’ve talked about throughout your Comfort During Fearful Times blogs, can be very helpful towards avoiding it. Well… it is for me :-)
5 Jenny Ryan Nov 11, 2008
I know it’s not considered good etiquette to use capitals on the Internet, but I’m hoping that an exception can be made for gratitude
Because I just have to say, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS POST!!
6 Pace Nov 12, 2008
Yeah! I think that a lot of the messages we get from mainstream religion can feed acedia. Sometimes we get the message of, “Don’t fix any problems in the world today. Don’t associate with anyone too interesting, or you might get wrapped up in sin and worldly concerns. Instead, focus on your immortal soul and you will receive your reward in the afterlife.”
If that’s the spiritual message we’re getting from our religion, then it’s no wonder we’re feeling acedia. We become disconnected and isolated, and we stop caring. Even if we care about the hereafter, we stop caring about day-to-day life, which is where we are now, and when we stop caring about that, we get acedia out the wazoo.
But regardless of your religion, there’s another spiritual message you can take away from it. You can get the message of, “We are all one, here and now. We are all brothers and sisters. We care about each other. And what we do MATTERS.”
That’s my acedia antidote. (:
7 Jennifer Nov 12, 2008
I wrote the best comment to your fantastic comments and it disappeared.
and now my middle aged brain cannot reproduce it except to say I love your minds and Helga your phrase is my new rallying cry and Careen, yes to how grief and change can open the door to acedia and Gena it isn’t about caring what others think for me, it’s about finishing the loop of creating/writing which is communicating or knowing that I have. Communicated.
Which is why blogging is so damn cool.
8 Mary Nov 20, 2008
Jennifer: Thanks so much for directing me to this book. I’m halfway through, and finding it pretty gripping. And helpful. As I recall, you say somewhere in WCB that it’s important to differentiate between when you need comfort, and when you’re just letting yourself off the hook. Acedia gets to this, I think, personally and societally. Most thought-provoking.