Mental Traps_ The Overthinker's Guide To A Happier Life Part 1

Mental Traps.

The Overthinker's Guide to a Happier Life.

by Andre Kukla.

The Nature of Mental Traps

-ental traps are habitual modes of thinking that disturb our ease, take up enormous amounts of our time, and deplete our energy, without accomplis.h.i.+ng anything of value for us or for anyone else in return.

The word "value" here, and throughout this book, refers to whatever seems worthwhile to us. This book is not a moral tract. It doesn't take the side of useful work against recreation, or social involvement against self-indulgence. If we're content to watch television all day, then this activity will not be counted here as a waste of time. Watching television has value for us.

The fact remains that we often exhaust ourselves in troublesome pursuits that don't in any way further the actualization of our very own values, whatever they may happen to be. These useless pursuits are the mental traps. Mental traps keep us from enjoying television as readily as they keep us from serious work. They are absolute wastes of time.

Mental traps are identified not by the content content of our ideas but by their of our ideas but by their form. form. Any aspect of daily Any aspect of daily life-household ch.o.r.es, weekend recreation, careers, relations.h.i.+ps-may be thought about either productively or unproductively. We fall into the same traps when we wash the dishes as when we contemplate marriage or divorce. It's not the subject of our thinking, but how we deal with the subject, that makes the difference. When we rid ourselves of any one trap, we find that our problems in every department of life are simultaneously eased. life-household ch.o.r.es, weekend recreation, careers, relations.h.i.+ps-may be thought about either productively or unproductively. We fall into the same traps when we wash the dishes as when we contemplate marriage or divorce. It's not the subject of our thinking, but how we deal with the subject, that makes the difference. When we rid ourselves of any one trap, we find that our problems in every department of life are simultaneously eased.

We build unproductive structures of thought on every conceivable timescale. One and the same mental trap may hold us in its sway for a fleeting moment or for a lifetime. And the momentary traps are just as pernicious as the lifelong traps. Because of their brevity, the mere moments of wasted time and energy are especially difficult to grasp and correct. They're over and done with before we're aware of what we're doing. The result is that they're fallen into with monumental frequency. It's doubtful that the average twenty-first-century urban adult is altogether free of them for more than a few minutes at a time. By the end of the day, the c.u.mulative effect of these brief episodes may be an entirely unaccountable exhaustion.

The basic idea underlying mental traps was concisely expressed a few thousand years ago: To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven.

When we deviate from this profound advice- when we begin at the wrong time, proceed at the wrong pace, quit too soon or too late-we fall short of what we might otherwise accomplish.

Again, there's no attempt here to prescribe the content of our activities. To everything everything there is a season. Both the enjoyment of good food and the scramble up the ladder of success may be legitimate parts of our life. But if we try to advance our career while we're eating dinner, we ruin our digestion-and we can't really do good work as we pa.s.s the salt and slurp the soup. Neither of our values is well served. Given the same values, we could make far better use of our time and resources. there is a season. Both the enjoyment of good food and the scramble up the ladder of success may be legitimate parts of our life. But if we try to advance our career while we're eating dinner, we ruin our digestion-and we can't really do good work as we pa.s.s the salt and slurp the soup. Neither of our values is well served. Given the same values, we could make far better use of our time and resources.

Our lapses from doing the best thing at the best time and in the best way fall into recurrent and readily identifiable patterns. These are the mental traps.

If mental traps are injurious to us, why do we fall into them? Why don't we simply quit? There are three reasons. First, we're often unaware of what we're thinking. Second, even when we are aware of our thoughts, we often don't recognize their injurious nature. Third, even when we recognize their injurious nature, we often can't quit because of the force of habit.

If the thinking that goes on when we're trapped remains below the level of consciousness, we can't even begin to change it. We can't choose to stop doing what we're not aware of doing in the first place. If we didn't know that we wore clothes, it would never occur to us to take them off, even if we felt too hot. By the same token, when we don't know that we're thinking unproductive thoughts, the option of stopping doesn't present itself.

The idea that we can be unaware of our own thoughts may strike us as paradoxical, for we tend to equate consciousness with thinking itself. But the two are by no means identical processes. We may be exquisitely conscious of the taste of an exotic fruit or the feel of an o.r.g.a.s.m without having a thought in our head. And we may be filled to overflowing with an unbroken stream of ideas without noticing a single one. The following mental experiment will convince us of this important point. stream of ideas without noticing a single one. The following mental experiment will convince us of this important point.

When we aren't occupied with any definite business or pleasure, our thoughts often wander from one topic to another on the basis of the flimsiest a.s.sociations. This experiment can be conducted only when we happen to catch ourselves in the midst of such wanderings. For those who don't fall asleep quickly, the time spent lying awake in bed is especially rich in this material. As soon as we catch ourselves wandering, we can begin a backward reconstruction of the sequence of ideas that led us to where we are. If we were thinking about the beauty of Paris, we may recall that this was preceded by a thought about a friend who has just returned from there. The idea of the friend's return may have come from the recollection that this person owes us money, which may in turn have come from ruminations about our financial difficulties, which may have been elicited by the idea that we would like to buy a new car.

In this experiment, it's essential not not to decide ahead of time that we to decide ahead of time that we will will reconstruct the next few minutes of thought. We have to wait until we reconstruct the next few minutes of thought. We have to wait until we catch ourselves in midstream. When this happens, we're invariably surprised at the twists and turns taken by the stream of our ideas. Without an active reconstruction, we would never have suspected that the thought of Paris had its origin in the desire for a new car! And it's this experience of surprise that proves the point. catch ourselves in midstream. When this happens, we're invariably surprised at the twists and turns taken by the stream of our ideas. Without an active reconstruction, we would never have suspected that the thought of Paris had its origin in the desire for a new car! And it's this experience of surprise that proves the point. We wouldn't be surprised unless we didn't know what we had been thinking. We wouldn't be surprised unless we didn't know what we had been thinking. Our thinking was unconscious. Evidently, the process of thinking no more depends on our continuous attention to it than walking depends on our continuously keeping track of the position of our arms and legs. Our thinking was unconscious. Evidently, the process of thinking no more depends on our continuous attention to it than walking depends on our continuously keeping track of the position of our arms and legs.

Mental traps often remain below the level of awareness in just this way. We fall into them automatically, without making a conscious decision. The first requirement for getting rid of them is to learn the art of detection. This book provides the materials necessary to meet that requirement. It's a naturalist's guide to a certain order of mental flora, outlining the conspicuous characteristics of its various members, replete with ill.u.s.trative examples. It's a handbook for the identification of mental traps.

Learning to detect and identify the traps is the first step. But detection and identification aren't enough to put an end to them. We also need to be convinced that they're useless and injurious. This isn't always obvious. In fact, mental traps are often mistaken for absolutely essential activities without which life would become chaotic and dangerous. Some traps are even celebrated in famous proverbs. We will not move against them until we're thoroughly convinced that they have no redeeming value. aren't enough to put an end to them. We also need to be convinced that they're useless and injurious. This isn't always obvious. In fact, mental traps are often mistaken for absolutely essential activities without which life would become chaotic and dangerous. Some traps are even celebrated in famous proverbs. We will not move against them until we're thoroughly convinced that they have no redeeming value.

Every good naturalist's guide contains this sort of practical information. What's the use of learning to identify the amanita mushroom if we're not also told that it's poisonous? In this handbook too, the various aids to the identification of mental traps are supplemented by a.n.a.lyses of their harmful effects.

Having learned to identify the traps and having been convinced that it's to our advantage to be rid of them, we are left with an ordinary case of a bad habit. At this stage, we're like a smoker who has accepted the findings of the surgeon general's report. As every smoker knows, it's only now that the real battle begins. In the battle against mental traps, as in the battle against smoking, resolutions will be made and broken and made again. Some people will succeed in kicking the habit and some will fail. Many will at least be motivated to cut down. The last chapter of this book offers strategic advice for how to conduct this battle against mental traps. the habit and some will fail. Many will at least be motivated to cut down. The last chapter of this book offers strategic advice for how to conduct this battle against mental traps.

Naturalists have to go to the forest to encounter the objects of their studies. Hunters after mental traps find their prey in the midst of everyday life. It's in the most ordinary affairs-in shopping, balancing the checkbook, keeping appointments, answering the telephone, brus.h.i.+ng our teeth, talking to a friend-that we learn most about mental traps. When the stakes are high, we become too fixed on the outcome to maintain an observational att.i.tude toward ourselves. But when the activity is more or less routine, we find the mental leeway to examine what we do and the courage to try a new approach.

When we begin to study ourselves in this way, we reap an unexpected benefit quite aside from the increase in self-knowledge. Ordinary life immediately becomes extraordinary and fascinating. A telephone call in the midst of our work is no longer merely an irritation-it's a prized opportunity to observe the effects of interruptions. Arriving late for a movie gives us a chance to investigate the nature of small disappointments. Working under a deadline is endlessly rich in opportunities for self-discovery. Was.h.i.+ng the dishes is an arena in which we may observe the play of diverse psychological forces-the same forces, in fact, that contend at the most remarkable junctures of life. Were it not for these little trials and tribulations, we would be unable to learn anything about ourselves. So we begin to welcome trouble as an ally, and to be fascinated by our reactions to it. And everyday life is transformed into an endless adventure. For what is adventure if not an att.i.tude toward trouble? to investigate the nature of small disappointments. Working under a deadline is endlessly rich in opportunities for self-discovery. Was.h.i.+ng the dishes is an arena in which we may observe the play of diverse psychological forces-the same forces, in fact, that contend at the most remarkable junctures of life. Were it not for these little trials and tribulations, we would be unable to learn anything about ourselves. So we begin to welcome trouble as an ally, and to be fascinated by our reactions to it. And everyday life is transformed into an endless adventure. For what is adventure if not an att.i.tude toward trouble?

It's time to begin our exploration of the internal landscape. We needn't be in too great a hurry to change things around. Drastic intervention can wait until we understand the ecological balance of this unfamiliar terrain. Meanwhile, let's enjoy the sights. Even the amanita mushroom has its beauty.

Persistence

-he first trap, persistence persistence, is to continue to work on projects that have lost their value. The activity had meaning for us once-or we would never have begun. But the meaning has evaporated before we reach the end. Yet we go on, either because we don't notice the change or out of sheer inertia.

We start a Monopoly game with great enthusiasm and-inevitably-get bored before we reach the end. But instead of quitting, we toil on without pleasure "just to get it over with." There can be no clearer example of a waste of time.

Someone asks us to recall the name of a supporting actor in a B movie of the forties. It's on the tip of our tongue, but we can't quite come up with it. Meanwhile the person who wanted to know has departed from the scene. But her problem doesn't depart with her. It bedevils us all day. Originally our aim was to answer someone's question. But this aim isn't what keeps us going now. Even the other's death wouldn't relieve us of our burden.

We start to watch a television show and soon realize that it's hopelessly dull. Yet we watch it "to the bitter end," complaining all the while about how awful it is.

We foolishly begin to sing "A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall." When we pa.s.s the eighty-five-bottle mark, we're already sick of the enterprise. But we don't quit. Instead, we sing faster and faster so that we may sooner come to the end.

In a political discussion, we conceive of a decisive but lengthy refutation of our opponent's view. Halfway through our exposition, he announces that he's convinced. We need say no more. Yet we tediously bring the argument to a superfluous conclusion.

We aren't sufficiently impressed by the sheer peculiarity of actions like these.

What makes these activities mental traps is that they proceed without reference to our needs or interests. It doesn't ordinarily give us pleasure to carry on with them to the bitter end. On the contrary, the too-long Monopoly game, the struggle to remember trivial information, and the awful television show are experienced as irritants. We're impatient to be done with them, and relieved when they finally do come to an end. If there were a pill that could make us forget we were ever asked about the B-movie actor, we would gladly swallow it. Those who espouse the hedonistic view that we always act to maximize our pleasure would be hard put to explain phenomena like these. relieved when they finally do come to an end. If there were a pill that could make us forget we were ever asked about the B-movie actor, we would gladly swallow it. Those who espouse the hedonistic view that we always act to maximize our pleasure would be hard put to explain phenomena like these.

Of course, we may persevere for values other than pleasure. We may finish a tedious Monopoly game in order not to disappoint a child. We may watch an awful show to the end because it's our job to write a review. We may sing our way down to the last bottle of beer as an exercise in patience. Joyless perseverance is not always the trap of persistence. But most watchers of awful television shows are not critics, and most singers of "A Hundred Bottles of Beer" are not engaged in spiritual exercises. They're accomplis.h.i.+ng nothing, and not enjoying it.

Incredibly, our culture teaches us to regard persistence as a virtue. We boast that once we are set on a certain course, nothing can dissuade us from following it to the end. We teach our children that it's a sign of weakness, even of immorality, to leave anything half-done. It's undeniable that our affairs benefit greatly from the capacity to persevere in the face of adversity. But it's quite another thing to suggest that this capacity should always and indiscriminately be exercised. A useful distinction may be drawn between to persevere in the face of adversity. But it's quite another thing to suggest that this capacity should always and indiscriminately be exercised. A useful distinction may be drawn between persistence persistence and and perseverance. perseverance. We persevere when we steadfastly pursue our aims despite the obstacles that are encountered along the way. But we merely persist if we doggedly carry on in directions that are known to lead to a dead end. We persevere when we steadfastly pursue our aims despite the obstacles that are encountered along the way. But we merely persist if we doggedly carry on in directions that are known to lead to a dead end.

The moral imperative to finish everything we start is deeply ingrained. We find it difficult to abandon even the most transparently vapid enterprises in midstream. The mere act of beginning already binds us to continue to the end, whether or not the original reasons for the activity remain valid. We act as though we were bound by a promise-a promise made to no one but ourselves.

We begin to watch a television show solely for the sake of amus.e.m.e.nt. But a second motive enters the picture almost immediately: the need to complete what was begun. So long as we remain amused, this need can scarcely be felt. It's a push in the direction we are already traveling. But its effect is noticed as soon as we lose interest in the show. Were amus.e.m.e.nt the only motive for watching, we would quit immediately. But the secondary motive to finish what was begun, just because it was begun, makes us persist. secondary motive to finish what was begun, just because it was begun, makes us persist.

Newton's laws stipulate that a moving body will continue to move in the same direction until its inertia is overcome by other forces. It seems that we also obey a law of mental inertia. mental inertia. Having begun an activity, we are kept moving in the same psychological direction until we reach the end. As in the case of physical inertia, this impulse may be overcome by other tendencies. Not every Monopoly game is played out to the end. An earthquake, a sudden flood, or a full bladder will put a stop to all but the most stubborn cases of persistence. Even ordinary boredom may be strong enough to make us quit. But we must be more than a little bored, the emergency must be more than a little pressing, our bladder more than a little full. Inertia systematically tips the scale in favor of continuing with the task at hand regardless of the merits of the case. The result is that our decision to quit often comes a little too late. Having begun an activity, we are kept moving in the same psychological direction until we reach the end. As in the case of physical inertia, this impulse may be overcome by other tendencies. Not every Monopoly game is played out to the end. An earthquake, a sudden flood, or a full bladder will put a stop to all but the most stubborn cases of persistence. Even ordinary boredom may be strong enough to make us quit. But we must be more than a little bored, the emergency must be more than a little pressing, our bladder more than a little full. Inertia systematically tips the scale in favor of continuing with the task at hand regardless of the merits of the case. The result is that our decision to quit often comes a little too late.

It takes but a moment's resolve to launch ourselves upon the vastest enterprises. Once we're launched, however, we can't simply cancel our plans with another momentary act of will. We've lost the "off" b.u.t.ton.

We sometimes try to justify persistence by saying that we don't wish our investment of time and energy to come to naught. If we quit the game now, our previous efforts to win will have been in vain. This line of thinking explains why an ongoing state of persistence becomes progressively more difficult to terminate. If we've completed only a few moves of a boring game, our investment is so small that we may write it off with little regret. But after several hours of grim and pleasureless play, it seems a shame not to go a little longer and finish up. So much effort will have gone to waste!

Of course this is a spurious argument. The pleasureless hours have already already gone to waste. They won't be redeemed by finis.h.i.+ng up. It's time to cut our losses and run. Paradoxically, our instinct for conservation leads only to more waste. gone to waste. They won't be redeemed by finis.h.i.+ng up. It's time to cut our losses and run. Paradoxically, our instinct for conservation leads only to more waste.

The absurd reluctance to let go of worthless things may even cause us to embark on activities that have no value right from the start. We may buy objects that are of no use to us because we can't waste the opportunity of a sale, or eat when we aren't hungry so that the food won't have to be thrown out, or cart home junk from other people's attics. This trap is a first cousin to persistence. Here we're not caught in midstream by the disappearance of a previous value. What we do has no value from the moment we begin. For the sake of formal elegance, we may consider it to be a limiting case of the same trap. In this type of Here we're not caught in midstream by the disappearance of a previous value. What we do has no value from the moment we begin. For the sake of formal elegance, we may consider it to be a limiting case of the same trap. In this type of instantaneous persistence instantaneous persistence, it's advisable to quit as soon as we start.

Boring games, awful shows, and sales on items we can't use possess the happy property of coming to an end by themselves. Not all activities are self-terminating, however. A job, a marriage, or a habit is potentially forever. When an enterprise of indefinite duration loses its value, we may be plunged into a state of perpetual persistence. perpetual persistence. The mere pa.s.sage of time will not deliver us from this trap. We're in a Monopoly game that never ends. The mere pa.s.sage of time will not deliver us from this trap. We're in a Monopoly game that never ends.

We may perpetually persist at relations.h.i.+ps that have turned irretrievably sour, jobs that hold no present satisfaction for us and no hope for the future, old hobbies that no longer bring us pleasure, daily routines that only burden and restrict our lives. Often we stay on a fruitless course simply because we don't think to re-evaluate our goals. We've lived like this for so long-with this person, at this job, in this house and this neighborhood, wearing this style of dress, enacting these dietary and hygienic rituals in this particular order-that it no longer occurs to us that things could be otherwise. Our drab and hateful existence is taken to be an absolute condition imposed on us by fate, like the shape of our head. We may not like it, but there it is. If we stopped to ask ourselves whether we wish to continue along our present course, the answer might be crystal clear. Any amount of insecurity would be preferable to doing neighborhood, wearing this style of dress, enacting these dietary and hygienic rituals in this particular order-that it no longer occurs to us that things could be otherwise. Our drab and hateful existence is taken to be an absolute condition imposed on us by fate, like the shape of our head. We may not like it, but there it is. If we stopped to ask ourselves whether we wish to continue along our present course, the answer might be crystal clear. Any amount of insecurity would be preferable to doing this this for eight hours a day, five days a week, fifty weeks a year, until we die. But we don't always ask ourselves. We complain, but we take the necessity of the status quo for granted. Hence we persist in the very patterns of behavior that sustain it. Since the option of quitting doesn't present itself, the only alternative is to "get it over with," like a tedious Monopoly game. Unfortunately, this tedious game const.i.tutes our whole life. for eight hours a day, five days a week, fifty weeks a year, until we die. But we don't always ask ourselves. We complain, but we take the necessity of the status quo for granted. Hence we persist in the very patterns of behavior that sustain it. Since the option of quitting doesn't present itself, the only alternative is to "get it over with," like a tedious Monopoly game. Unfortunately, this tedious game const.i.tutes our whole life.

Our unwillingness to abandon a bad situation may also stem from a belief that the alternatives are even worse. Perhaps we'll starve if we quit our job. Our view of the matter may or may not be correct. In either case, this reason for staying on is not a mental trap. It's the best choice we can make given our understanding of the situation. But we must watch out that we don't use this type of argument to rationalize the sheer force of inertia. Sometimes we simply can't change, although every indication cries out that we should. We feel compelled to stay on the same course just as we're driven to finish the Monopoly game. So long as we remain conscious of our dilemma, there's some hope that we will break out of the deadlock. Once we've neatly rationalized our situation as the best choice of a poor lot, however, it's all over for us. make given our understanding of the situation. But we must watch out that we don't use this type of argument to rationalize the sheer force of inertia. Sometimes we simply can't change, although every indication cries out that we should. We feel compelled to stay on the same course just as we're driven to finish the Monopoly game. So long as we remain conscious of our dilemma, there's some hope that we will break out of the deadlock. Once we've neatly rationalized our situation as the best choice of a poor lot, however, it's all over for us.

It's particularly easy to fall into a perpetual case of negative persistence. negative persistence. Here we persist in Here we persist in not not doing something that doing something that would would be rewarding. We never open ourselves up to an intimate relations.h.i.+p because we did so once before with disastrous results. We never eat olives because we tried one twenty years ago and had to spit it out. We never tackle mathematical problems because we were terrible in math at school. be rewarding. We never open ourselves up to an intimate relations.h.i.+p because we did so once before with disastrous results. We never eat olives because we tried one twenty years ago and had to spit it out. We never tackle mathematical problems because we were terrible in math at school.

Not doing something is also a project without an end. We are never finished avoiding olives. These habits of omission are therefore liable to persist perpetually. In fact, they are especially especially liable to persist. It's relatively easy to see when we should quit liable to persist. It's relatively easy to see when we should quit doing doing something, such as eating the something, such as eating the same tasteless cereal every morning. We need only consult our experience. But how will we discover that it's time to quit same tasteless cereal every morning. We need only consult our experience. But how will we discover that it's time to quit not not doing something, such as avoiding olives? Perhaps we would enjoy them now if only we tried them. But so long as we negatively persist, there's nothing in our experience to tell us so. doing something, such as avoiding olives? Perhaps we would enjoy them now if only we tried them. But so long as we negatively persist, there's nothing in our experience to tell us so.

Negative persistence is the mental structure underlying many phobias. Having once had a bad experience in a large crowd, or driving along a mountain road, or speaking before an audience, we avoid the object of our distress forever after. The initial experience may have been due to a unique confluence of factors. Other crowds, other roads, other audiences, or even the same ones on another day may not have affected us at all. But because we avoid them all, we're not in a position to find out. Of course this problem is further compounded by the fact that our expectation of panic tends to act as a self-fulfilling prophecy. But that's another trap.

If we refrain from an activity, how are we ever to know that its value has changed? The only answer is not to give up on anything for all time to come. It's a good idea to cast an occasional glance at what we have excluded from our life because it's too distasteful, painful, or difficult. Unbeknownst to us, our tastes, our courage, our abilities, our luck, or the world itself may have changed. An annual nibble at an olive or an intimate relations.h.i.+p may pay off handsomely in the end. life because it's too distasteful, painful, or difficult. Unbeknownst to us, our tastes, our courage, our abilities, our luck, or the world itself may have changed. An annual nibble at an olive or an intimate relations.h.i.+p may pay off handsomely in the end.

Amplification

-mplification is the trap of working harder than necessary to achieve our aim, as when we swat a fly with a sledgehammer. The opposite error of doing too little receives far more attention. But too much is also a mistake. There's a certain amount of work appropriate to each of life's tasks. If we do too little, we fall short of the goal. And if we do too much, we squander our resources. is the trap of working harder than necessary to achieve our aim, as when we swat a fly with a sledgehammer. The opposite error of doing too little receives far more attention. But too much is also a mistake. There's a certain amount of work appropriate to each of life's tasks. If we do too little, we fall short of the goal. And if we do too much, we squander our resources.

A comparison with persistence will help to define the character of both traps. When we amplify, the end we are working toward remains valuable, but our work doesn't advance us toward it. When we persist, our work may be superbly effective in moving us toward the end, but we have no reason for going there. We persist when we continue to play a game that has become tedious. We amplify when we take too long to move in a game that we still care about.

It's amplificatory to rehea.r.s.e a speech so often that our words become dull and lifeless, or to spend a hundred dollars to make the projection of our annual expenditures more precise by ten dollars, or to overpack for a trip because we wish to be prepared for the most unlikely contingencies-what if we're invited to a formal ball in the midst of the Papuan jungle? Making more money than can be spent is an amplification that has consumed some lives in their entirety. our annual expenditures more precise by ten dollars, or to overpack for a trip because we wish to be prepared for the most unlikely contingencies-what if we're invited to a formal ball in the midst of the Papuan jungle? Making more money than can be spent is an amplification that has consumed some lives in their entirety.

The mark of amplification is that the means exceed what is necessary to accomplish the end. Whether we are amplifying therefore depends on what we're trying to accomplish. Making more money than we can spend is a trap if our aim is to be able to buy what we want. But the same activity may be fully in accord with our values if we engage in it for the pleasure of playing the money game. A man's prolonging s.e.xual foreplay longer than strictly necessary to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e doesn't count as amplification-unless his only interest is in reproduction. Even swatting a fly with a sledgehammer may be appropriate if we feel the need to exercise. On the other hand, it's unlikely that we overpack for the sake of exercise or out of a fascination with the packing game. Still, it isn't unheard of.

There are tasks that provide literally endless opportunities for amplification. However much we do in the service of these goals, it's still possible to do more. If we want to be rich, there's always more money to be made. We can always rehea.r.s.e a speech one more time. If we keep looking, there's always a chance that we'll find a higher-scoring Scrabble word. And when we make a decision, there are always additional factors that may be taken into account. Having compared the academic reputation, athletic prowess, and architectural merits of several universities, we may also essay a guess as to where we're most likely to find romance. Having discussed our options with a dozen people, we can always solicit the opinion of a thirteenth. we do in the service of these goals, it's still possible to do more. If we want to be rich, there's always more money to be made. We can always rehea.r.s.e a speech one more time. If we keep looking, there's always a chance that we'll find a higher-scoring Scrabble word. And when we make a decision, there are always additional factors that may be taken into account. Having compared the academic reputation, athletic prowess, and architectural merits of several universities, we may also essay a guess as to where we're most likely to find romance. Having discussed our options with a dozen people, we can always solicit the opinion of a thirteenth.

Of course there is a law of diminis.h.i.+ng returns. Our second million dollars may not make enough difference in our life to be worth the trouble of making it. And our deliberations about schools must eventually reach levels of such minute significance or vast uncertainty that it isn't worth the effort to carry the a.n.a.lysis further. This is the point where amplification begins.

We're sometimes persuaded to go beyond this point by the thought that we can never really be sure that more work will prove to be useless. For all we know, one more minute of looking at the Scrabble board will reveal a place for our seven-letter word. The thirteenth informant may give us vastly better advice than the previous twelve. But if this line of reasoning is sound after twelve informants, it's equally sound after thirteen. The next bit of effort may indeed be crucial-and so may the next bit after that, and the one after that. By this argument we're led to the conclusion that we should study the Scrabble board forever and consult with every person in the world about our options. Scrabble board will reveal a place for our seven-letter word. The thirteenth informant may give us vastly better advice than the previous twelve. But if this line of reasoning is sound after twelve informants, it's equally sound after thirteen. The next bit of effort may indeed be crucial-and so may the next bit after that, and the one after that. By this argument we're led to the conclusion that we should study the Scrabble board forever and consult with every person in the world about our options.

The fallacy of such thinking is that it's a cost-benefit a.n.a.lysis that leaves the cost entirely out of account. To be sure, it's always possible that we may profit from more work. But it's also certain that more work will cost us time and effort that we could choose to spend otherwise. The question is not whether more work on the present activity might benefit us, but whether it's likelier to benefit us than the same amount of work invested elsewhere. whether it's likelier to benefit us than the same amount of work invested elsewhere. This is the criterion for when to quit. This is the criterion for when to quit.

The application of this criterion is clearer in some cases than in others. At one extreme are situations where the cost of more work actually exceeds the potential benefit. Suppose we have to make nine different stops on a shopping expedition. Unless we plan a route beforehand, we'll end up needlessly retracing our steps. But if we try to work out the very best route by estimating the time it would take for all to make nine different stops on a shopping expedition. Unless we plan a route beforehand, we'll end up needlessly retracing our steps. But if we try to work out the very best route by estimating the time it would take for all 362 362,880 permutations of nine stops, our calculations will surely take longer than the amount of traveling time saved by the result. This is the most flagrant type of amplification. We don't even need to inquire whether there are more profitable investments for our time. We would do better not to invest at all. This venture is a dead loss. permutations of nine stops, our calculations will surely take longer than the amount of traveling time saved by the result. This is the most flagrant type of amplification. We don't even need to inquire whether there are more profitable investments for our time. We would do better not to invest at all. This venture is a dead loss.

On the other hand, we can't say precisely when our deliberations about universities turn into amplification. But we should at least know to quit if it finally becomes clear that we could be doing something more valuable. Even then we may be making a mistake. The very next bit of work might indeed have spelled the difference between success and failure. Freedom from mental traps is not omniscience. But we're more likely to go wrong when we are trapped.

Work may be amplified literally to infinity in either of two directions-horizontally or vertically. In horizontal amplification horizontal amplification, we think of more and more subtasks to perform in the service of achieving our objective-more people to interview, another rehearsal of our speech, another minute to look for a Scrabble word. Each additional subtask advances our cause less than the last. The value of our work never quite gets down to zero, however. Thus we continue to think that we are usefully employed. The problem is that there are other worthy ventures in life besides this Scrabble game. and more subtasks to perform in the service of achieving our objective-more people to interview, another rehearsal of our speech, another minute to look for a Scrabble word. Each additional subtask advances our cause less than the last. The value of our work never quite gets down to zero, however. Thus we continue to think that we are usefully employed. The problem is that there are other worthy ventures in life besides this Scrabble game.

Vertical amplification is more intriguing. Here the completion of the major task requires the prior completion of a subtask, whose completion in turn requires the prior completion of a sub-subtask, and so on. Wis.h.i.+ng to convey our meaning precisely when we speak, we begin with a prefatory qualification designed to allay misunderstanding: is more intriguing. Here the completion of the major task requires the prior completion of a subtask, whose completion in turn requires the prior completion of a sub-subtask, and so on. Wis.h.i.+ng to convey our meaning precisely when we speak, we begin with a prefatory qualification designed to allay misunderstanding: Not that I insist on this myself, but- In the midst of our qualification, it occurs to us that the qualification may itself be misunderstood. So we launch into a qualification of the qualification: Not that I insist on this myself-nor on any of the other options, for that matter-but- Of course, the qualification of the qualification is also liable to certain misconstructions: Not that I insist on this myself-nor on any of the other options, for that matter-of course I do have preferences-but- In this way we're led backward away from the goal of deciding on a pizza to considerations of the origin of social contracts, the meaning of life, and the definition of "definition."

Or suppose we try to decide whether to buy a modest but affordable cottage or the sumptuous mansion of our dreams. We reason that our choice depends largely on how financially secure we expect our future to be. But we can't know whether our financial future is secure until we know how likely it is that our particular sector of the economy will flourish in the long term. The probability that our sector will flourish depends in turn on energy prices. Energy prices will depend on our foreign policy. Our foreign policy will depend on the results of the next election. The next election will be decided by att.i.tudes toward gay rights ... The next election will be decided by att.i.tudes toward gay rights ...

The result of vertical amplification is a paradoxical movement further and further away from the goal. The more we work, the more there is left to do before we're finished. A bottomless abyss opens up between the beginning and the end.

In its fullest flower, amplification unfolds in both the horizontal and the vertical directions at once. The task calls forth endless subtasks, each of which requires endless sub-subtasks for their completion, and so on. Can such monstrous mental growths really exist? Where else does chronic indecision come from? If indecision were nothing more than finding the alternatives exactly equal, we would simply flip a coin and be done with it. There would be no reason to abide abide in the undecided state. We remain undecided because we don't know whether the alternatives are equal or not. We can't arrive at their values at all. We're lost in endless calculations. in the undecided state. We remain undecided because we don't know whether the alternatives are equal or not. We can't arrive at their values at all. We're lost in endless calculations.

Acc.u.mulation is a particularly insidious form of vertical amplification. We fall into this subtle trap when the goal admits of unlimited degrees of realization. Getting pregnant proverbially does not admit of degrees-either we are, or we aren't. is a particularly insidious form of vertical amplification. We fall into this subtle trap when the goal admits of unlimited degrees of realization. Getting pregnant proverbially does not admit of degrees-either we are, or we aren't. Nor does coming to a decision-having decided, the job is done. But if we aim at wealth, fame, wisdom, power, or virtue, there is no absolute token of attainment. A millionaire is wealthy compared to the average person. But millionaires are more apt to look to multimillionaires for their standard of comparison. The same relativity affects our judgments of wisdom, power, and virtue. If a turnip were elevated to the station of the average man, it would suppose itself to be a G.o.d. Nor does coming to a decision-having decided, the job is done. But if we aim at wealth, fame, wisdom, power, or virtue, there is no absolute token of attainment. A millionaire is wealthy compared to the average person. But millionaires are more apt to look to multimillionaires for their standard of comparison. The same relativity affects our judgments of wisdom, power, and virtue. If a turnip were elevated to the station of the average man, it would suppose itself to be a G.o.d.

But only for a moment. In fact, no amount of power can make us feel feel powerful for very long, nor does any amount of recognition continue to be experienced as great fame. The attainment of any degree of these indefinite goals, rather than signaling an end to our striving, inevitably becomes the occasion for raising our standard of achievement. Every step forward makes the goal move one step back. Thus we can never arrive. Many lives are given up entirely to these fruitless journeys. powerful for very long, nor does any amount of recognition continue to be experienced as great fame. The attainment of any degree of these indefinite goals, rather than signaling an end to our striving, inevitably becomes the occasion for raising our standard of achievement. Every step forward makes the goal move one step back. Thus we can never arrive. Many lives are given up entirely to these fruitless journeys.

The curious phenomenon of repet.i.tion repet.i.tion occurs in amplification, as well as in several other traps. In all cases the outward manifestation is the same. Having finished our work, we proceed to do it all occurs in amplification, as well as in several other traps. In all cases the outward manifestation is the same. Having finished our work, we proceed to do it all again. When it's a case of amplification, we repeat in order to achieve a greater and greater degree of certainty that the work is indeed complete. After all, it's always possible that we've overlooked something. Even if we recall having done everything, our memory may be mistaken. So we do it all again. But we don't thereby arrive at a state of again. When it's a case of amplification, we repeat in order to achieve a greater and greater degree of certainty that the work is indeed complete. After all, it's always possible that we've overlooked something. Even if we recall having done everything, our memory may be mistaken. So we do it all again. But we don't thereby arrive at a state of absolute absolute certainty. There's still room for improvement. So we do it a third time ... Repet.i.tion is a horizontally infinite amplification. certainty. There's still room for improvement. So we do it a third time ... Repet.i.tion is a horizontally infinite amplification.

We make all our preparations for a trip. We pack, arrange for the feeding of pets and the watering of plants, disconnect the telephone, make sure that the faucets are shut, lock the windows and the doors ... Everything has been attended to. But perhaps there's something we've overlooked. Perhaps we've forgotten to pack the toothbrushes. So we review our arrangements one by one: toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ... But we can as well commit an oversight the second time around as the first. The situation remains essentially unchanged. Thus if we were inclined to review our arrangements before, we're going to be equally inclined to do so now: toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ... Again and again we are returned to the same starting point. We drive off to the airport with our thoughts running along the same endless circle: toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ... toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ... point. We drive off to the airport with our thoughts running along the same endless circle: toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ... toothbrushes, pets, plants, windows, doors ...

The rationalization of repet.i.tion is that with each time around we diminish the probability of error. Now this is undoubtedly true in some cases. The chance of making an arithmetical error is considerably reduced if we repeat the calculation and obtain the same result a second time. Even so, we have to take the law of diminis.h.i.+ng returns into account. Every review of our work adds less to our confidence than the previous one. Whether it's worthwhile to review ten times, once, or not at all evidently depends on the cost of conducting the review in comparison to its ever-diminis.h.i.+ng benefit. Before we go over a hundred canceled checks a second time to reconcile an eleven-cent discrepancy in our balance, we might ask ourselves whether we would be willing to reconcile someone else's else's checkbook for the payment of eleven cents. If not, it might be wiser to subtract the sum from our balance and find something more valuable to do. checkbook for the payment of eleven cents. If not, it might be wiser to subtract the sum from our balance and find something more valuable to do.

Moreover, it isn't always true that every repet.i.tion diminishes uncertainty, even by a hair's breadth. Often we already breadth. Often we already have have the highest degree of certainty that is humanly attainable. In that case, repet.i.tion accomplishes nothing at all. For example, if our enterprise involves more than a few steps, it's impossible to perceive all the stages of the work at once. When we turn to selecting the toiletries for our trip, the clothes we've packed are no longer before us. We have to rely on our memory that when we the highest degree of certainty that is humanly attainable. In that case, repet.i.tion accomplishes nothing at all. For example, if our enterprise involves more than a few steps, it's impossible to perceive all the stages of the work at once. When we turn to selecting the toiletries for our trip, the clothes we've packed are no longer before us. We have to rely on our memory that when we did did attend to the clothes, we judged that phase of the work to be complete. If now we try to recapture the certainty of immediate perception by reviewing the earlier stage of the work, we simply lose sight of the later stage. The greatest attainable certainty is already reached when we recall that we attend to the clothes, we judged that phase of the work to be complete. If now we try to recapture the certainty of immediate perception by reviewing the earlier stage of the work, we simply lose sight of the later stage. The greatest attainable certainty is already reached when we recall that we once once judged the other stages of the work to be done. We can no longer have the direct evidence of our senses to make this judgment now. But there's nothing to be done about it. No amount of shuttling back and forth between the earlier and the later stages of the work will diminish our residual uncertainty. judged the other stages of the work to be done. We can no longer have the direct evidence of our senses to make this judgment now. But there's nothing to be done about it. No amount of shuttling back and forth between the earlier and the later stages of the work will diminish our residual uncertainty.

Nor will it help to write everything down or to have someone follow us everywhere with a video camera. For what has been written or videotaped can be read or viewed only one item at a time. By the time we get to the last items, the first ones will already be out of mind. We are therefore back to where we started, relying on our recollection that everything seemed to be in order when it was before us. Making a list may help us to achieve this maximum of attainable confidence. But if we have it already and make a list in the hope of arriving closer to the certainty of immediate perception, we fall into a trap. We will find ourselves reading and rereading our list to make certain that everything is on it, just as we would mentally repeat our activities without a list. The trap is the same. Only the medium of expression has been changed. first ones will already be out of mind. We are therefore back to where we started, relying on our recollection that everything seemed to be in order when it was before us. Making a list may help us to achieve this maximum of attainable confidence. But if we have it already and make a list in the hope of arriving closer to the certainty of immediate perception, we fall into a trap. We will find ourselves reading and rereading our list to make certain that everything is on it, just as we would mentally repeat our activities without a list. The trap is the same. Only the medium of expression has been changed.

It's especially common to fall into the trap of repet.i.tion when the goal's attainment or non-attainment is difficult to confirm. When we go to the corner store, we feel very little need to retrace our steps in order to establish that we have come to the right place. But if we want to be loved by another, our attainment may not be so clear even after we've gathered all the evidence we can. But if we have have gathered all the evidence we can, there's nothing more to be done-except to repeat. This is why some spouses ask for the same proofs and declarations of their mates' affection again and again. And a jealous husband may literally retrace gathered all the evidence we can, there's nothing more to be done-except to repeat. This is why some spouses ask for the same proofs and declarations of their mates' affection again and again. And a jealous husband may literally retrace his wife's steps again and again in a vain attempt to eliminate every chance of infidelity. his wife's steps again and again in a vain attempt to eliminate every chance of infidelity.

Whatever their need might be, such people don't sufficiently appreciate the sheer uselessness uselessness of their actions. Sometimes the available evidence is simply inadequate for our purposes. That may be unfortunate. But nothing is accomplished by going over and over the same ground. of their actions. Sometimes the available evidence is simply inadequate for our purposes. That may be unfortunate. But nothing is accomplished by going over and over the same ground.

In tracking down the various forms of amplification in everyday life, it's sometimes useful to stop what we're doing and ask ourselves whether our work is really necessary in light of our aims. A good time to ask is when we notice that we're working very hard and not getting much done. But, except when the stakes are large, it isn't usually a good idea to try to calculate benefits and costs with mathematical precision. In fact, this activity can easily turn into yet another amplification. It's pointless to engage in prolonged and relentless inquiries into the value of a three-minute task. We would do better to put in the three minutes and be done with it, whether the work is useful or not.

Often we can detect amplifications simply by their feel. As we've seen, many amplified tasks have a literally infinite structure. We are returned again and again to where we started, or one thing invariably leads to another. These labyrinthine patterns of thought make us literally dizzy. We feel as though we were on a merry-go-round or falling into a bottomless pit. Sensations of this kind are a surer guide to the trap of amplification than any cost-benefit a.n.a.lysis. have a literally infinite structure. We are returned again and again to where we started, or one thing invariably leads to another. These labyrinthine patterns of thought make us literally dizzy. We feel as though we were on a merry-go-round or falling into a bottomless pit. Sensations of this kind are a surer guide to the trap of amplification than any cost-benefit a.n.a.lysis.

Fixation

-n fixation fixation, our progress toward the goal is blocked. We can proceed no further until we receive a telephone call, an authorization, a s.h.i.+pment of materials, a new inspiration. But instead of turning to other affairs, we remain immobilized until we can get going once again on the same project. In short, we wait.

In preparation for an eight o'clock gathering at our house, we've cleaned and tidied up, bathed, dressed, laid out the food and drink. Everything is in readiness. But it's only seven-thirty. Now what do we do until the guests arrive? We could could use the empty interval of time to take care of small ch.o.r.es that will have to be done sooner or later anyway. Or we could indulge in a small pleasure. But we don't use the empty interval of time to take care of small ch.o.r.es that will have to be done sooner or later anyway. Or we could indulge in a small pleasure. But we don't experience experience the time before us as empty. It seems to us that we're already occupied: we're throwing a party. It's true that there's nothing for us to the time before us as empty. It seems to us that we're already occupied: we're throwing a party. It's true that there's nothing for us to do do about this enterprise at the moment, but we manage to keep ourselves busy with it all the same. Like windup soldiers that march in place when they b.u.mp into a wall, about this enterprise at the moment, but we manage to keep ourselves busy with it all the same. Like windup soldiers that march in place when they b.u.mp into a wall, we continue to attend to our project even when it doesn't call for our attention. We busy ourselves with the peculiar round of activities collectively known as "waiting for" the guests to arrive. We visualize their arrival. We wish they were already here. We observe the movements of the hands on the clock, literally marking time until we can swing into action again. we continue to attend to our project even when it doesn't call for our attention. We busy ourselves with the peculiar round of activities collectively known as "waiting for" the guests to arrive. We visualize their arrival. We wish they were already here. We observe the movements of the hands on the clock, literally marking time until we can swing into action again.

Fixation may be conceived of as a limiting case of amplification. When we amplify, the work left to do accomplishes so little that it isn't worth the effort; yet we go on. When we fixate, there is, at least for the moment, nothing nothing left to do. And still we go on. In order to accomplish the apparently impossible task of keeping busy when there's nothing to do, we invent completely useless activities that have left to do. And still we go on. In order to accomplish the apparently impossible task of keeping busy when there's nothing to do, we invent completely useless activities that have reference reference to the goal, although they don't advance us toward it in the least. to the goal, although they don't advance us toward it in the least.

It scarcely needs to be pointed out that fixation is a waste of time. Indeed, the colloquial name for fixation is "killing time." This felony is routinely committed when further progress depends on a change of circ.u.mstances that we can't ourselves bring about-when we have to wait for the guests to arrive, the checkout line at the grocery store to move, the traffic to unsnarl, the five o'clock whistle or the three o'clock school bell to signal an end to our incarceration. to move, the traffic to unsnarl, the five o'clock whistle or the three o'clock school bell to signal an end to our incarceration.

In circ.u.mstances like these, we stare at clocks, count to ourselves, twiddle our thumbs, gaze about randomly without letting ourselves get interested in what we see, complain about our plight, and spend time wis.h.i.+ng that the period of waiting were over. These activities sustain the illusion that we're still laboring at the stalled enterprise. Our clock-watching is felt magically to keep time moving, and the force of our complaints and wishes seems to push the checkout line along.

Another way to keep busy when there's nothing to do is by repeating what's already been done. The host waiting for his guests to arrive will double-check and triple-check his preparations. We've already encountered repet.i.tion as a form of amplification. The behavior is the same; but it's even more senseless in the context of fixation. When repet.i.tion is amplificatory, we at least expect to obtain a greater degree of certainty that the job has been properly done. But the fixated host entertains no doubts about the adequacy of his preparations. He double-checks and triple-checks simply to kill time.

If the repet.i.tions, the wis.h.i.+ngs, and the complainings begin to run thin, we may be privileged to observe the last refinement of fixation: the state of suspension. suspension. Having exhausted every device for keeping busy when there's nothing to do, we still don't tear ourselves away. Instead we sit vacantly, benumbed, in a state of mental paralysis. But this vacancy isn't simply an absence of thought. Paradoxically, the suspended mind is both empty of content and fully occupied. We feel the strain of mental exertion. We are busy. Yet if asked to describe what we are doing, we have nothing to say. Having exhausted every device for keeping busy when there's nothing to do, we still don't tear ourselves away. Instead we sit vacantly, benumbed, in a state of mental paralysis. But this vacancy isn't simply an absence of thought. Paradoxically, the suspended mind is both empty of content and fully occupied. We feel the strain of mental exertion. We are busy. Yet if asked to describe what we are doing, we have nothing to say.

When we can't do anything useful to advance our aim, we would do better to forget about it and turn to something else-even if the aim is enormously important and the alternative is just barely worth a glance. Any amount of value is preferable to merely killing time. Until we're in a position to do something constructive about saving the world from a nuclear holocaust, let's have a cup of tea. When we're standing in line, we can observe the other people or enjoy a private fantasy. When we're stuck in traffic, we can do isometric exercises. Periods of enforced waiting are often precious opportunities to indulge in the little pleasures of life for which we can't make a special time in our busy day. Here at last is a chance to take a leisurely bath or an aimless stroll, to throw sticks for a dog, to discuss philosophy with a child, to interpret the shapes of clouds. In fixation, we throw away the gift of an empty moment. indulge in the little pleasures of life for which we can't make a special time in our busy day. Here at last is a chance to take a leisurely bath or an aimless stroll, to throw sticks for a dog, to discuss philosophy with a child, to interpret the shapes of clouds. In fixation, we throw away the gift of an empty moment.

The alternatives to killing time are sometimes limited by the circ.u.mstances in which we have to wait. We can't observe the clouds from a windowless waiting room. But one option that's always open to us is to not do anything at all. This at least conserves our energies for the time when we're once again called into action. When there's nothing to do, it's a waste of electricity to keep the mind running. Here at last is a chance to take a break from the incessant mental chattering-the planning, the scheming, the hypothesizing, the evaluating-that modern life seems to require of us.

Of course, not doing anything has to be distinguished from the contentless mental activity of suspension. The latter exhausts us; the former rejuvenates. When the mind is empty, awareness flows effortlessly with the endless changes offered up for our delight by a bounteous universe. Not even a waiting room can shut them out: a stain on the ceiling that may be seen as Cleopatra on her royal barge, an exquisitely ugly wallpaper, a rhythm of hurried footsteps in the hall, the cool leather of the armchair, an inner vision of deities and fabulous beasts ... The quieter we are, the more we see. When we're suspended, however, we aren't so easily captivated by the pa.s.sing scene. We're too busy waiting. even a waiting room can shut them out: a stain on the ceiling that may be seen as Cleopatra on her royal barge, an exquisitely ugly wallpaper, a rhythm of hurried footsteps in the hall, the cool leather of the armchair, an inner vision of deities and fabulous beasts ... The quieter we are, the more we see. When we're suspended, however, we aren't so easily captivated by the pa.s.sing scene. We're too busy waiting.

The obstacle that makes us fixate may be internal as well as external. We may simply not know what to do next. We try to decide whether a marginal friend should be invited to our party, or whether to eat Chinese food or Italian. We go through whatever procedures are deemed appropriate for decisions of this sort-weighing the benefits against the costs, praying to G.o.d for guidance, consulting the entrails of a sheep. And the data prove to be insufficient for settling the issue-the costs exactly counterbalance the benefits, G.o.d tells us to decide for ourselves, the entrails are ambiguous. So we complain, we wish, and we repeat. Eventually we fall into a state of suspension. We sit and stare vacantly at the problem, or try to conjure a solution by chanting its name. Chow mein, lasagna. Lasagna, chow mein.

What can we do in a situation like this? If the decision isn't pressing, it should simply be set aside for the time being. Perhaps we'll receive new information that will help us to make up our mind. Perhaps we'll hit upon a new decision-making procedure. Fixating on the problem doesn't invite either of these developments, however. On the contrary, it diminishes the chance of encountering new experiences that may lead us out of our impa.s.se. We're more likely to break through to a solution if we go to bed and dream.

F