From a young age, we are taught that one of
the greatest risks to our integrity and flourishing
is our own selfishness. We must - wherever
possible - learn to think more of other people,
keep in mind how often we fail to see things
from their point of view, and be aware of
the small and large ways in which we disadvantage
and ignore collective interests. Being good
means, at its most basic, putting other people
more squarely at the center of our lives.
But for some of us, the problem isn’t so
much that we are heedless to this advice,
rather that we take it far too closely and
remorselessly to heart. So mindful are we
of the risks of selfishness, we run into an
opposite danger: an abnegation of the self,
a modesty that borders on self-erasure, an
automatic impulse to give everything over
to competing parties, a shyness about pressing
oneself forward and a manic inability to say
‘no’ or cause the slightest frustration
to others.
And so, as a result of our talents at ‘selflessness’,
we fill our diaries with obligations to people
who bore and drain us, we stick at jobs that
neglect our true talents and we stay for far
too long in relationships with people who
deceive us, annoy us and subtly (and possibly
with a lot of sentimental sweetness) take
us for a very long ride. And then one morning
we wake up and find that the bulk of our life
is already behind us, that our best years
are spent and that no one is especially grateful
for our sacrifices, that there isn’t a reward
in heaven for our renunciations and that we
are furious with ourselves for mistaking meekness
and self-surrender for kindness.
The priority may then be to rediscover our
latent reserves of selfishness. The very word
may be frightening, because we aren’t taught
to distinguish - as we must - between bad
and good versions of this trait; between,
on the one hand, the kind of selfishness that
viciously exploits and reduces others, that
operates with no higher end in view, that
disregards people out of meanness and negligence,
and on the other, the kind of selfishness
that we require to get anything substantial
done, that lends us the courage to prioritise
our own concerns over the flotsam and jetsam
of daily life, that lends us the spirit to
be more forthright about our interests with
people who claim to love us - and that at
moments leads us to sidestep nagging demands
not in order to make people suffer, but so
that we can husband our resources and in time,
be able to serve the world in the best way
we can.
With a more fruitfully selfish philosophy
in mind, we might fight to have an hour to
ourselves each day. We may do something that
could get us labelled as ‘self-indulgent’
(having psychotherapy three times a week or
writing a book), but that is vital to our
spirit. We might go on a trip on our own,
because so much has happened that we need
to process in silence. We cannot be good to
anyone else until we have serviced some of
our own inner callings. A lack of selfishness
may be the fastest route to turning us into
ineffective, embittered and ultimately highly
disagreeable people.
Hindu philosophy can be a useful guide here,
for it divides up our lives into four stages,
each with its distinctive roles and responsibilities.
The first is that of the bachelor student
(known as Brahmacharya), the second that of
the householder and parent (Grihastha) and
the third that of the grandparent and semi-retired
advisor (Vanaprastha). But it’s the fourth
that is the really interesting age in this
context: known as Sannyasa, this is the time
when - after years of service to other people,
to business, family and society - we finally
throw off our worldly obligations and focus
instead on the development of our psychological
and spiritual sides. We might sell up our
house, go travelling and wander the world
to learn, talk to strangers, open our eyes
and nourish our minds. In the period of sannyasa,
we live simply (perhaps by a beach or by the
side of a mountain); we eat basic food and
have few belongings, we cut our ties with
everyone who has nothing spirit-related to
tell us, anyone who is on the make and in
too much of a hurry, anyone who doesn’t
spend a substantial amount of their time reflecting
on the meaning of being alive.
What feels insightful about this division
of existence is that it acknowledges that
a Sannyasa way of living can’t be right
for everyone at anytime - yet on the same
score, that no good life can be complete without
a version of it. There are years when we simply
have to keep our heads down and study, years
when we have to bring up children, and accumulate
some capital. But there are also, just as
importantly, years when what we need to do
above all is say ‘enough’, enough to material
and superficial demands, enough to sexual
and romantic entanglements, enough to status
and sociability - and instead, learn to turn
our minds inwards and upwards.
Without having to don the orange robe favoured
by Hindu Sannyasas, with perhaps few visible
signs of our reorientation to speak of, it
is open to all of us to make a psychological
move into a more self-focused and inner age.
We can convey to those around us that we aren’t
lazy, mad, or callous; we just need to avoid
doing the expected things for a while now.
We need to fulfill our real promise by casting
aside an idea that is only ever superficially
wise: always putting other people first.
Our perspective cards feature tools for a wiser calmer perspective on life, they help to restore calm and clarity even during difficult times.
