Industry is the Enemy of Melancholy

I was fortunate to retire from my traditional work career at the relatively young age of 56. Retiring early had become a goal of mine ever since I observed how much my father enjoyed his 30 year post-work life. My father was perfectly content to leave the working life behind and fill up his days with fishing, tending his vegetable garden, solving the daily crossword puzzle, taking naps and watching the home town Sports teams on his television.

When the time came for me to retire, I had an idyllic vision of spending my days in similar fashion. Finally, after 56 years, I was looking forward to being my own boss – thrilled to have the opportunity to wake up every day and do whatever it was that interested me. I believed that every day would feel like Christmas!

And those first few months of retirement really were magical. Gone was the stress of having to be available 24/7 to my company’s sales and management teams who were battling to close million dollar deals, gone was the daily 3 to 4 hour commute in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and gone was the chronic sleep deficit.

It was goodbye to all that. What replaced it was the pleasure of deciding which book to read from my list of “books I always wanted to read“, fly fishing in the beautiful rivers of New England, taking long rides on my electric bike, spending quality time with my grandkids, and attending stimulating concerts and plays with my wife.

Something begin to happen, however, that I was not expecting about six months into my retirement. As the novelty and thrill of being retired began to subside I began to notice that I was experiencing melancholy moods and moments of soul searching. I was spending time reflecting on topics like past loss, the certainty of my physical and mental decline, and the uncertainty of how future generations will deal with the big existential challenges the world is facing.

Without the rigors of work to occupy my attention, my mind was set free to wander where it wanted to go and to my surprise I discovered that it often wanted to contemplate dark and doleful topics. I was not that concerned about these sometime melancholy moods because I reasoned that it is one of life’s natural reactions to harbor feelings of both happiness and sadness; and I remembered the wise old grandmother who once said: “A good day is a laugh and a cry“. Still I wondered why my pensive thoughts were increasing in frequency at a time in my life when I expected to be most content.

Then I happened to read about a study conducted by Harvard psychologists Matthew A. Killingsworth and Daniel Gilbert which could help to explain the phenomenon I was experiencing. These researchers developed a smartphone app that allowed them to collect the thoughts, feelings, and actions of a broad range of people at random moments as they went about their daily activities.

Using the app, Killingsworth and Gilbert asked people what they were doing and how happy they were while doing it. They sifted through 25,000 responses from more than 5000 people and reported that 46% of the people were thinking about things other than what they were actually doing at the time (in other words, they were daydreaming about something other than what they were doing). They discovered that those people who were daydreaming typically were not happy; while those who were fully engaged in their activity were the happiest. 

The researchers wrote that unlike other animals, human beings spend a lot of time thinking about what is not going on around them, contemplating instead events that happened in the past, might happen in the future, or will never happen at all. This “stimulus-independent thought” or “mind wandering” appears to be the brain’s default mode of operation.

Although this ability is a remarkable evolutionary achievement that allows people to learn, reason, and plan, it apparently comes with an emotional cost. “We see evidence that a human mind is a wandering mind, and a wandering mind is an unhappy mind,” they said in their report. The bottom line is that we’re more likely to think negative thoughts when we let our minds wander.

Maybe that is why people who are waiting in line or stuck in traffic appear to be more irritable. And maybe my melancholy moods have increased in frequency since leaving work simply because my mind is no longer required to spend 10+ hours a day focused on the demands of my job.

This study confirms that many philosophical and religious traditions are on to something true when they teach that happiness is to be found by living in the moment, and by training their practitioners to resist mind wandering and concentrate on the here and now. Yoga teachers and those teaching meditation practices usually stress the importance of “mindfulness” or “being present” for a good reason — because when we do, it usually puts us in a better mood.

When I look back at my work career, I can see now that those moments when I felt most fulfilled was when I was in the middle of product development activities, being part of a team inventing electronic test solutions to solve complex manufacturing challenges. During those moments all the powers of my mind were fully engaged in solving the problem at hand and there was a sense that the results of the team’s collective work would have a positive impact on the company, our customers, and to a certain extent, society in general.

William F. Buckley put his finger on the unique ability that meaningful work has in preventing the onset of depressive feelings when he wrote “Industry is the enemy of Melancholy“. Simply put, if we are busy doing work that requires a focused mind it becomes difficult for the mind to wander and contemplate spirit dampening topics that are likely to cause the blues.

I happened to listen to an online homily about work that touched on a similar theme from a spiritual point of view that was given by Bishop Robert Barron. Bishop Barron made the point that our very being is deeply influenced by our actions and that the kind of work we do has a lot to do with the kind of people we become.

People who have no work usually struggle with depression because our sense of dignity often comes from work. Those who suffer from unemployment feel not just the financial burden of a lost paycheck, but also the loss of dignity brought about from the loss of their livelihood.

When you are feeling down one of the things psychologists recommend is to get to work on a project. It tends to make you feel better because work engages the powers of mind, will, creativity, and imagination and we become awakened when we give ourselves over to a project.

It doesn’t have to be a grand or complicated project. In fact, Bishop Barron mentioned that he found that one of the things that brings him the most satisfaction is doing the dishes. His day is usually filled with meetings and intellectual activities, so it is a relief for him to do some simple physical work at the end of the day. It brings him satisfaction to make order out of a dirty kitchen and to see everything clean and in its place when he is done.

The Bishop referenced this lyric from Bob Dylan’s song “Forever Young” to emphasize that work is a blessing and that souls can not fully prosper when their hands and feet are idle.

“May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift, may you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift”

Bob Dylan; Forever Young

Not all work is physical, though. Pope John Paul II categorized different kinds of work for the faithful. There is physical work (the work of the body), intellectual work (the work of the mind), spiritual work (the feeding of one’s soul), and moral work (charitable work on behalf of the poor and mistreated). When we are attentive to each of these categories of work in our daily life, it is then that we best fulfill our divine potential and become collaborators with the purpose of God.

I like that idea. May we all come to see our work, in all its different manifestations, as collaborating with the purpose of God and as bringing us into a more perfect union with a higher power.

“Of our greatest acts we are ignorant”

My parents took their Catholic faith seriously and they felt it was their sacred duty and obligation to make certain all eight of their children celebrated the Catholic sacraments and attended religious education classes. They hoped this would instill in them a strong foundation of faith and become a rock of support that they could lean on throughout their life.

For the ritual of the sacrament of Baptism, the Church asks parents to choose Godparents for their child. Godparents represent the community of faith at the baptism and their basic function is to step in and serve as proxies for the parents if they are unable to provide for the child’s religious training.

Some children are fortunate to be blessed with one or more Godparents who expand their role well beyond this basic function. I was one of those children. It was my good fortune that my mother chose my uncle Rheo to be my Godfather.

His relationship with me did not end after the baptism ceremony – it was only the beginning. He became an important part of my life and a model to me of Christian living, showing me by his words, actions and friendship what it meant to be a good man.

Rheo Gilbert Meunier 1923 – 1984

Uncle Rheo was one of my mother’s 6 brothers. She grew up with him in the 1920’s and 30’s working on a small family farm during the hard days of the Great Depression.

He left school after completing the sixth grade in order to spend more time helping his father with all the farm work. He grew into a strong, handsome and strapping young man from all his strenuous labor.

He was part of the Greatest Generation, enlisting in the Navy in 1942 when he was 19 years old and serving four years for his country during World War II; seeing action in the North Atlantic and doing tours patrolling the Suez Canal and Russian coast.

When he returned from the war he was able to acquire a good job at the Municipal Light Company in Templeton Massachusetts as an electrician. He ended up working there for 36 years – eventually rising through the ranks to the position of Foreman.

It was while on the job early in his career when he experienced a tragic accident. He was strapped high on a telephone pole trying to repair a downed wire when the pole snapped in half crashing to the ground with Rheo still attached. That he managed to survive this event was a testament to his strength and determination.

He gradually recovered and regained all his strength and athleticism but he did suffer some permanent damage to his lower extremities that would bother him his whole life and make it impossible for him to ever have children.  Although I remember him dating quite frequently, he never married, and I often wondered if it was because he didn’t want to deny his wife the blessings of having children.

It was not in his nature to complain about his unfortunate circumstances though, or let those circumstances drive him to depression. Despite his situation we always saw him smiling, laughing, energetic and full of life. He was a man of action with plenty of money to buy toys like convertible sport cars, motorcycles, cabin cruiser boats and snowmobiles; and to take skiing vacations in the Swiss Alps, scuba diving excursions in Hawaii, fishing expeditions to Cape Cod and river rafting & hiking adventures in Colorado.

Despite his James Bond lifestyle that we admired so much he always had time to spend with his extended family. He made it a point to stop in and visit with each of his seven brothers and sisters every few weeks just to stay in touch with their lives and to show interest in the activities of his 34 nephews and nieces. He once told my mother that he loved his nephews and nieces so much, he didn’t need to have children of his own.

And his nephews and nieces adored him too. He was a giant in their eyes – telling them interesting stories about his travels, sharing with them his talent for yodeling, and taking them on exciting adventures and outings.

He also generously volunteered to lend a hand whenever people needed help. I remember him coming to our house one day when I was a young boy to help install electrical wiring that was needed at our house. I shadowed him while he went about his work patiently explaining to me what he was doing and showing me all the tools he was using and how they worked. I was fascinated and think the experience kindled in me my interest in electricity and electronics that led to my later career as an engineer.

When his father passed away, Rheo became the primary caretaker of his mother, and since he did not have any family he agreed to live with her, support her and take care of her so that she could continue to stay in the home she so loved.

It his 60th year a tragic series of successive events occurred that contributed to his death from a sudden and massive heart attack. The first event occurred on Christmas Eve night in 1983 while he was out working helping to restore some power outages in the town. His Mother was at home when she accidentally started a fire while trying to cook a ham for the family holiday dinner. His mother perished while trying to put out the fire and Rheo lost his mother, his home and most of his earthly possessions that night.

Then, in the space of two month’s time, Rheo’s brother-in-law passed away, his best friend lost his business to a fire and the Camp he owned in Cape Cod also was destroyed by an unexplained fire. The stress was too much for his heart to take – he had a fatal heart attack in March of 1984.

The packed Church and military honors bestowed on him at his funeral showed how he was loved and respected by his community and family. I was honored to be one of the pallbearers selected to carry his casket; beside seven of his other beloved nephews.

Although he was a religious man and regularly attended Sunday Mass at his local church, he never lectured me about religion or preached to me about God. However I learned so much about morality from what I saw him do. Whenever he saw me he would make it a point to sit with me, look into my eyes and take a genuine interest in learning about what was happening in my life. On my birthdays he would give me a birthday card and some money or a cool gift; on Easter he would give me my own chocolate bunny to enjoy!

Beyond that, he would make it a point to spend time with me at various times during the year. Rides in his convertible car with the top down to get ice cream, snowmobile rides through his snowy woods and ocean fishing trips in his cabin cruiser boat. He was a perfect role model for a young boy growing up and learning about the world. Being with him was like a field trip to see the practical application of faith put into action.

Even in death, his generous spirit was still being revealed as he had saved a significant sum of money and he specified in his will that the money should be split evenly between his brothers and sisters. My parents were grateful that they were able to safely invest the inheritance they received from him so that they would not have to worry about running out of money in their golden years.

One of the most precious gifts I ever received was my uncle Rheo’s gold Swiss watch which my mother was able to obtain and give to me after he passed away. I treasured that watch for many years and would always wear it on special occasions and think of him. I decided to give this watch as a gift to my young nephew Rheo (named after his Great Uncle ) when he celebrated his sacrament of Confirmation because I could see in him a glimmer of the same spirit that drove his namesake great uncle.

Emily Dickinson once wrote the words: “Of our greatest acts we are ignorant” to a friend who was unaware that his interest in her had saved her life. I don’t think my Uncle ever thought he was doing anything great and was probably ignorant of the positive impact he had on my life.

I am sorry that because of my uncle’s sudden death I never got the opportunity to tell him about the great acts he did for me, how important he was in my life and how grateful I was for all that I had learned from him.

I hope you take the time while you still can to tell the people you love how much they mean to you and that we all, like my dear uncle Rheo, invest the effort to perform great acts that will similarly touch the lives of all the people in our life.

Don’t let your ‘don’t voice’ dominate your thoughts

Growing up a die hard Red Sox fan and living in the Boston area during the 1990’s I can remember the frustration and disappointment I felt in seeing my beloved home team bested on the field every year by the hated New York Yankee’s baseball team.

So I will admit that it secretly gave me pleasure when the Yankee’s  star second baseman at the time, Chuck Knoblauch, became afflicted with a serious case of a malady known as the yips.

Yips is the name given to describe an event when an athlete temporarily loses control of their fine motor skills. The condition occurs suddenly as twitches, staggers, jitters and jerks of the muscles when athletes are attempting to perform a single precise and well-timed action (such as putting a golf ball or throwing a baseball).

The causes of the condition are poorly understood and there is no known therapy that guarantees a cure. Athletes affected by the yips sometimes recover their ability, but many are forced to abandon their sport because they become unable to produce the basic motions that are required to play their game.

The Mayo Clinic says the condition can be psychological, neurological, or a combination of both. Most doctors believe that the unwanted muscle spasms are caused by performance anxiety or by a neurological dysfunction called focal dystonia – caused by the over-training of muscle groups that execute a repetitive action.

In the case of Chuck Knoblauch, his yips started when he suddenly began struggling to throw the baseball accurately to first base. The throw from the 2nd base position to 1st base is considered the shortest and easiest in baseball, yet for some reason in 1999 Chuck Knoblauch lost his ability to consistently throw the ball accurately to his 1st baseman – who was standing a mere 40 feet away from him.

That year he committed a record 26 errors – four of the errors came in a single game, one throw so bad that the ball sailed over the 1st baseman’s head and hit a mother in the face who was sitting in the grandstands. The Yankees ultimately had to move Chuck Knoblauch to the Left Field position because he was unable to overcome the yips he experienced while manning 2nd Base.

Jeff Bond, a psychologist who studies the yips at the Australian Institute of Sports, says the yips are more complex and difficult to treat than almost any physical injury. He believes that: “Within each of us there resides two key motivations: one is the motivation to achieve success and the other is the motivation to avoid failure. We all have both; and at different times, and for different reasons, one voice will speak a lot louder than the other.”

He calls the yip voice the “don’t voice”; that voice inside your head motivating you to avoid failure. The yips are more prevalent in sports like baseball, golf and tennis because those sports have a lot of “think time” and provide a greater opportunity for that “don’t voice” to boom out loudly in the athlete’s head. An athlete in those sports has a long time to think about their next shot and to dwell on the possibility of failure – which can lead to paralysis and self-doubt when the time comes to actually perform.

While I initially derived pleasure watching Chuck Knoblauch struggle with his yips – and I mocked his inability to make such simple throws – it was an encounter with the yips that occurred in my own life that helped me to re-examine my position about those struggling with this affliction and to view them with much more sympathy and compassion.

It happened in my 30’s when I joined a dart team with some of my co-workers. Being part of the nine member team gave me an opportunity to get out and socialize with friends every Tuesday night and to have fun testing my dart throwing skills against other dart throwers in the region.

Our team was initially placed in the beginners division but over the course of several years we gradually moved up to the A division as our skills improved and as we won division tournaments. I found that as the level of competition increased, so did the pressure. At the highest level of competition there is very little margin for error because making one or two poor throws during a match could mean the difference between winning and losing.

To further magnify those feelings of pressure all of the teammates and opponents would gather around the board watching each match with great interest and trying to cheer their side on to victory. What had started out as a relaxing fun activity with my friends had turned into a high stakes battle requiring intense focus.

To cope with the increasing psychological pressure of the games, I worked on different strategies. First I focused on my throwing mechanics, endeavoring to use the same stance and consistent throwing motion each time so as to eliminate variables in my delivery that could cause variation.

The goal was to become so comfortable and practiced with my throwing mechanics that my throws would become automatic during the match, leaving my mind free to focus only on the dart board and the dart target.

Another strategy I employed was to make sure my alcohol level content was properly “calibrated”. My team would joke about this asking if anyone needed additional “aiming fluid” prior to the start of the match. I found that the alcohol did serve to reduce the pre-game jitters and helped me to worry less about my fear of failure. Gauging the proper amount of “aiming fluid” for optimum performance however was a challenge as there were more than one occasions when it was obvious that my over-indulgence of aiming fluid led to sub-par performances.

Despite these coping strategies, I vividly remember several instances that came up during important dart matches in my last season when I came down with what I can only describe as the yips.

The first episode occurred at an important moment during a key match when the outcome was in doubt and I had a chance to win the game. I stepped up to the line and extended my right arm with the dart in my hand getting ready to start my throwing motion.

Suddenly, my hand started trembling and I couldn’t quiet it. I stepped off the line and took a deep breath. When I returned to the line I was able to steady my hand, but at the completion of my throwing motion my fingers failed to obey my brain and release the dart when they were commanded. The dart flew wildly off course – not even hitting the dart board.

The errant throw really shook my confidence because it was rare for me to miss the target I was aiming at by more than an inch. It was inconceivable to me that I had just thrown a dart that missed the target by more than 2 feet.

I stepped off the line again, my teammates trying to encourage me. As I transferred my second dart into my throwing hand and held it between my fingers, I remember looking down and thinking how foreign it felt in my hand at that moment. Even though I had perfected my throwing mechanics in hundreds of practice and game events it felt like I was holding a dart for the first time.

I stepped to the line again, but that “don’t voice” and fear of failure was now booming loudly in my head. Instead of concentrating on the target that I was trying to hit to win the game, my mind was thinking instead about my throwing mechanics, how I was embarrassing myself and how I was letting my teammates down. The voice in my head had become my own worst enemy.

My second and third darts were not as wild, but not surprisingly given the state of my mind, were still way off target. Honestly, I was relieved when my opponent promptly stepped up to the line after my turn and won the game. I did not feel at that moment in time that I was capable of winning the game. My motivation to avoid failure far exceeded my motivation to achieve success.

At the completion of the season I decided to quit the dart team but it wasn’t because of the dart yips episodes. By that time I had worked on other techniques to help minimize their effect on me when I felt them coming on.

My motivation for retiring came when I decided that it was more important and better for me to spend my time at home on Tuesdays with my wife and young family; rather than staying out late, hanging out in seedy bars, drinking too much and being unproductive every Wednesday because I was tired and hung over from the night before. It is a decision I never looked back and regretted.

Nor do I regret the brief time I spent immersed in that world of competitive dart tournaments – because I learned some valuable life lessons from the experience. I learned techniques that I could use to help me perform under pressure; I learned not to let my motivation to avoid failure overwhelm me and get in the way of me reaching out to achieve success; and I learned that there is no place more important than home.

Last of all, I learned not to take pleasure in other people’s misfortunes – regardless of whether they are friend or foe. Life is hard enough after all, and making life harder for people by being mean-spirited ends up diminishing us all.