Logos and Unlearning

On Monday, the Michigan Department of Licensing and Regulatory Affairs confirmed that yes, I am officially the founder of a nonprofit organization. Unlearn, after 25 years of being nonprofit-ish, is now a real nonprofit. And in that time, the mission has changed. My entire vision of what Unlearn should be has changed, not because the underlying problems are better, but because I had realized that our self-destructive behavioral patterns aren’t a disease, they’re symptoms. And while official state recognition of my articles of incorporation feels great, that’s not important. Unlearn itself was the goal. Let me explain with the help of a certain brilliant Holocaust survivor.

Viktor Frankl was an Austrian psychiatrist who developed his own style of therapy after the war. His “logotherapy” is based on the premise that the primary motivational force in an individual is to find meaning in life. His psychotherapy focused on helping individuals discover and fulfill that meaning, even in the face of suffering and adversity. Unlearn isn’t just a nonprofit in a crowded field of people begging for grants. Unlearn is my meaning. After being let down time and again by large institutions (Catholicism, U.S. Army, Veterans Affairs, General Motors), I finally decided that if I wanted a greater meaning and purpose, I’d have to invent one for myself. If I wanted to find a meaning to this life, I’d better get to work forging one. I took Frankl’s logotherapy and created an organization to tackle the most intractable problems that I’d otherwise just be sitting around and complaining about. We have the freedom to choose our attitudes and responses to any situation. Even the most difficult ones. Remember, Frankl was a Holocaust survivor. But freedom is just the other side of the coin to responsibility. How could I tell my children to strive for a better world when I hadn’t tried my best to fix it?

We can find meaning in our work, so long as we find it meaningful. We can find meaning in our accomplishments and contributions, so far as we’re contributing to the public good and not just our own investments. We can find meaning in how we face unimaginable loss and unrelenting sorrow. Suffering is unavoidable, but our decision to react with dignity and courage is our choice, and that is the foundation of logotheraphy.

We have all lost something. It’s not a competition. My loss of a son is not “greater” than your loss of a spouse or parent or even a relationship. Loss is loss. Why people play the “my loss is greater than yours” game is beyond comprehension to me. Suffering and loss are intrinsic to life, but allowing ourselves to harden and turn away from the light and soak in pessimism is a choice. To me, to be chronically pessimistic in the face of suffering is to imply that life only had meaning through the things we lost and I can’t accept that to be true. In times of great sorrow, we need to feel like we’re part of something greater than ourselves. And since I couldn’t find something that fit that mold, I created it.

This is not a call-to-action to throw open your blackout shades and start whistling “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life” and pretend that you’re not suffering. It’s a reminder to myself that sometimes, in between wracking sobs, in between the endless cycle of tissues streaming from box to trashcan, that in those moments like the space between the raindrops, it’s okay to glance up instead of staring down. And it’s always better to be heading toward your meaningful goal in those moments. So, I made a thing and I’m putting it out into the world for others to see. In the months and years ahead, I’ll publish more and more about what it means to abide by Unlearn, but for now, what I needed was to strive to make something new, to create my own meaning in life, and to feel like I had some semblance of control in a chaotic and uncaring world.

You don’t have to run out and file 501(c)(3) paperwork (and I recommend that you NOT do that). You don’t have to form some organization. If you are dealing with a loss from suicide, you don’t need to make a new group to fight suicide. If you’re dealing with cancer, you don’t need to run out and form a group to fight cancer. You’re not looking for more paperwork or tax structures. Find a way to make meaning for yourself. Create. Build. Paint. Sing. Love. Care. Experience. Write. Or just sit in zazen and focus on your breath and still your mind until you can accept your own insignificant blink-of-an-eye existence as enough meaning for a lifetime.

We are here. And that’s enough. If all you can say is “I was here. I lived. I marveled at this life and found joy in being here,” then that is enough.

I look forward to sharing my meaning with all of you.