Yalom Staring At The Sun Quotes

... sooner or later she had to give up the hope for a better past.

...the more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety. The more you fail to experience your life fully, the more you will fear death.

The pain is there; when you close one door on it, it knocks to come in somewhere else...

Death anxiety is the mother of all religions, which, in one way or another, attempt to temper the anguish of our finitude.

Self-awareness is a supreme gift, a treasure as precious as life. This is what makes us human. But it comes with a costly price: the wound of mortality. Our existence is forever shadowed by the knowledge that we will grow, blossom, and, inevitably, diminish and die.

would you be willing to live this past year again and again for all eternity?

though the physicality of death destroys us, the idea of death saves us.

Nu experientele in sine, ci felul in care le interpretam determina calitatea vietii noastre.

He was saying, fulfill yourself, realize your potential, live boldly and fully. Then, and only then, die without regret.

Why, you may ask, take on this unpleasant, frightening subject? Why stare into the sun? Why not follow the advice of the venerable dean of American psychiatry, Adolph Meyer, who, a century ago, cautioned psychiatrists, 'Don't scratch where it doesn't itch'? Why grapple with the most terrible, the darkest and most unchangeable aspect of life? ... Death, however, DOES itch. It itches all the time; it is always with us, scratching at some inner door, whirring softly, barely audibly, just under the membrane of consciousness.

Fiecare alegere presupune o renuntare, si fiecare renuntare ne face constienti de limitare si temporalitate.

Each person fears death in his or her own way. For some people, death anxiety is the background music of life, and any activity evokes the thought that a particular moment will never come again. Even an old movie feels poignant to those who cannot stop thinking that all the actors are now only dust.

Психотерапевты в своей работе всегда исходят из того, что истина, до которой человек дошел сам, намного дороже той, что ему рассказали другие.

actul uitarii este o forma de moarte cu care ne intalnim mereu in viata.

The more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety.

Right, that's exactly what I mean by your being both the prisoner and the jailer.

Sterven is echter de eenzaamste gebeurtenis van het leven. We worden er niet alleen door van anderen afgescheiden, maar daarnaast stelt het ons ook bloot aan een nog angstaanjagender vorm van eenzaamheid: het is een scheiding van de wereld zelf.

Each of us has a taste of death when slipping into sleep every night or when losing consciousness under anesthesia. Death and sleep, Thanatos and Hypnos in the Greek vocabulary, were twins. The Czech existential novelist Milan Kundera suggests that we also have a foretaste of death through the act of forgetting: "What terrifies most about death is not the loss of the future but the loss of the past. In fact, the act of forgetting is a form of death always present within life.

How can you live now without building new regrets? What do you have to change in your life?

The way to value life, the way to feel compassion for others, the way to love anything with greatest depth is to be aware that these experiences are destined to be lost.

Many reported a diminishment of their fears of other people, a greater willingness to take risks, and less concern about rejection. One of my patients commented drolly that "cancer cures psychoneuroses"; another said to me, "What a pity I had to wait till now, till my body was riddled with cancer, to learn how to live!

For some of us the fear of death manifests only indirectly, either as generalized unrest or masqueraded as another psychological symptom; other individuals experience an explicit and conscious stream of anxiety about death; and for some of us the fear of death erupts into terror that negates all happiness and fulfillment.

How did Epicurus attempt to alleviate death anxiety? He formulated a series of well-constructed arguments, which his students memorized like a catechism. Many of these arguments have been debated over the past twenty-three hundred years and are still germane to overcoming the fear of death. In this chapter, I will discuss three of his best-known arguments, which I've found valuable in my work with many patients and to me personally in relieving my own death anxiety. 1. The mortality of the soul 2. The ultimate nothingness of death 3. The argument of symmetry

Cada item de sua casa abrigava memórias das quais ela era então a única detentora. Ela me contou que todos os instrumentos seriam distribuídos a estrangeiros que jamais saberiam suas histórias ou os apreciariam como ela. E, um dia,sua própria morte apagaria, por fim, todas as ricas memórias incrustadas na espineta, no violoncelo, nas flautas, nos flautins e em muitos outros instrumentos. Seu passado sucumbiria juntamente com ela. (...) Agora ela sabia realmente que também era transitória, apenas de passagem pela casa, assim como todos os moradores anteriores. E a casa também era transitória e iria desaparecer algum dia para dar lugar a outra no mesmo terreno. O processo de abrir mão de seus bens e de se mudar foi uma experiência reveladora para Alice, que sempre havia se abrigado na ilusão confortável e acalentadora de uma vida ricamente mobiliada e atapetada. Agora ela aprendia que o luxo das posses materiais a havia protegido da esterilidade da existência.

But despite the staunchest, most venerable defenses, we can never completely subdue death anxiety: it is always there, lurking in some hidden ravine of the mind. Perhaps, as Plato says, we cannot lie to the deepest part of ourselves. Had I been a citizen of ancient Athens circa 300 R.C.E. (a time often called the golden age of philosophy) and experienced a death panic or a nightmare, to whom would I have turned to clear my mind of the web of fear? It's likely I'd have trudged off to the agora, a section of ancient Athens where many of the important schools of philosophy were located. I'd have walked past the Academy founded by Plato, now directed by his nephew, Speucippus; and also the Lyceum, the school of Aristotle, once a student of Plato, but too philosophically divergent to be appointed his successor. I'd have passed the schools of the Stoics and the Cynics and ignored any itinerant philosophers searching for students. Finally, I'd have reached the Garden of Epicurus, and there I think I would have found help.

At some point in life-sometimes in youth, sometimes late-each of us is due to awaken to our mortality. There are so many triggers: a glance in a mirror at your sagging jowls, graying hair, stooping shoulders; the march of birthdays, especially those round decades-fifty, sixty, seventy; meeting a friend you have not seen in a long while and being shocked at how he or she has aged; seeing old photographs of yourself and those long dead who peopled your childhood; encountering Mister Death in a dream. What do you feel when you have such experiences? What do you do with them? Do you plunge into frenetic activity to burn off the anxiety and avoid the subject? Try to remove wrinkles with cosmetic surgery or dye your hair? Decide to stay thirty-nine for a few more years? Distract yourself quickly with work and everyday life routine? Forget all such experiences? Ignore your dreams? I urge you not to distract yourself. Instead, savor awakening. Take advantage of it. Pause as you stare into the photograph of the younger you. Let the poignant moment sweep over you and linger a bit; taste the sweetness of it as well as the bitterness. Keep in mind the advantage of remaining aware of death, of hugging its shadow to you. Such awareness can integrate the darkness with your spark of life and enhance your life while you still have it. The way to value life, the way to feel compassion for others, the way to love anything with greatest depth is to be aware that these experiences are destined to be lost.

began this book by observing that death anxiety rarely enters the discourse of psychotherapy. Therapists avoid the topic for a number of reasons: they deny the presence or the relevance of death anxiety; they claim that death anxiety is, in fact, anxiety about something else; they may fear igniting their own fears; or they may feel too perplexed or despairing about mortality. I hope that I have, in these pages, conveyed the necessity and the feasibility of confronting and exploring all fears, even the darkest ones. But we need new tools-a different set of ideas and a different type of therapist-patient relationship. I suggest that we attend to the ideas of great thinkers who have faced death forthrightly and that we build a therapeutic relationship based on the existential facts of life. Everyone is destined to experience both the exhilaration of life and the fear of mortality.

Don't you believe in an afterlife?" "I don't. But I also feel we can never be certain of such things. I imagine it offers great comfort to you, and I'm all for anything that offers you peace of mind, life satisfaction, and encourages a virtuous life. But, personally, I don't find the idea of a reunion in heaven credible. I consider it as stemming from a wish." "Then what religion do you believe in?" "I don't believe in any religion or any god. I have an entirely secular view of life." "But how is it possible to live like that? Without a set of ordained morals. How can life be tolerable or have any meaning without the idea of improving your position in the next life?" I began to grow uneasy about where this discussion would lead and whether I was serving James's best interests. All in all, however, I decided it was best to continue being forthright. "My real interest is in this life and in improving it for myself and others. Let me speak to your puzzlement about how I can find meaning without religion. I disagree about religion being the source of meaning and morality. I don't think there is an essential connection-or let me at least say an exclusive connection-between religion, meaning, and morality. I think I live a fulfilling and virtuous life. I am fully dedicated to helping others, like you for example, to live a more satisfying life. I would say I get my meaning in life from this human world right here, right now. I think my meaning comes from helping others find their meaning. I believe that preoccupation with a next life may undermine full participation in this life." James looked so interested that I continued on for a few minutes to describe some of my recent readings in Epicurus and Nietzsche that emphasized this very point. I mentioned how Nietzsche much admired Christ but felt that Paul and later Christian leaders diluted Christ's real message and drained this current life of meaning. In fact, I pointed out, Nietzsche had much hostility toward Socrates and Plato because of their disdain of the body, their emphasis on the soul's immortality, and their concentration on preparing for the next life. These very beliefs were cherished by the Neo-Platonists and eventually permeated early Christian eschatology.

we suffer also from our inevitable confrontation with the human condition-the "givens" of existence. What precisely are these "givens"? The answer is within each of us and readily available. Set aside some time and meditate on your own existence. Screen out diversions, bracket all preexisting theories and beliefs, and reflect on your "situation" in the world. In time you will inevitably arrive at the deep structures of existence or, to use the theologian Paul Tillich's felicitous term, ultimate concerns. In my view, four ultimate concerns are particularly germane to the practice of therapy: death, isolation, meaning in life, and freedom. These four ultimate concerns constitute the spine of my 1980 textbook, Existential Psychotherapy, in which I discuss, in detail, the phenomenology and the therapeutic implications of each of these concerns.

Insanlar birbirleriyle etkileşimde bulunmak isterler, doğrudan geribeslem alıp vermekten heyecan duyarlar ve başkaları tarafından nasıl göründüklerini bilmek, sahte görünümlerini çıkarıp atmak ve yakınlaşmak isterler.

therapists who have not faced their own mortality may indeed find themselves overwhelmed with anxieties about their own death.

A explicação é uma ilusão, uma miragem, uma construção mental, uma doce canção de embalar. Chamemos-lhe aquilo que ela é: uma defesa cobarde contra o horror visceral da precarieadade, da indiferença e da inconstância da vida.

Pude já confirmar que a intensidade do terror da morte que alguém sente está intimamente ligado com a sensação de uma vida que ficou por viver.

Dying, however, is lonely, the loneliest event of life. Dying not only separates you from others but also exposes you to a second, even more frightening form of loneliness: separation from the world itself.

Nicio schimbare pozitivă nu se va produce în viaţa voastră atâta timp cât vă agăţaţi de gândul că motivul care vă împiedică să trăiţi bine se află înafara voastră. Atâta timp cât plasaţi responsabilitatea în totalitate pe umerii celor care vă tratează nedrept - un soţ necioplit, un şef pretenţios şi care nu vă încurajează, gene deficitare, constrângeri imposibil de evitat -, atunci situaţia voastră va rămâne în impas. Voi şi numai voi sunteţi responsabili pentru aspectele esenţiale care vă marchează viaţa, şi numai voi aveţi puterea să le schimbaţi. Şi chiar dacă vă confruntaţi cu limitări exterioare majore, tot aveţi libertatea să alegeţi diferite atitudini faţă de aceste limitări.

[...] adevărul pe care îl descoperim singuri are o putere mai mare decât adevărul care ne este comunicat de ceilalţi.

The frightening thought of inevitable death, Epicurus insisted, interferes with our enjoyment of life and leaves no pleasure undisturbed. Because no activity can satisfy our craving for eternal life, all activities are intrinsically unrewarding. He wrote that many individuals develop a hatred of life-even, ironically, to the point of suicide; others engage in frenetic and aimless activity that has no point other than the avoidance of the pain inherent in the human condition.

Many reports of dramatic and lasting changes catalyzed by a confrontation with death support this view. While working intensively over a ten-year period with patients facing death from cancer, I found that many of them, rather than succumb to numbing despair, were positively and dramatically transformed. They rearranged their life priorities by trivializing life's trivia. They assumed the power to choose not to do the things that they really did not wish to do. They communicated more deeply with those they loved, and appreciated more keenly the elemental facts of life-the changing seasons, the beauty of nature, the last Christmas or New Year.

Properly used, regret is a tool that can help you take actions to prevent its further accumulation.

Try this thought experiment. Stare directly at the sun; take an unblinkered view at your place in existence; attempt to live without the protective railings many religions offer—that is, some form of continuation, immortality, or reincarnation, all of which deny death’s finality.

Rollo May quipped that anxiety about nothing tries to become anxiety about something. In other words, anxiety about nothingness quickly attaches itself to a tangible object.

Nietzsche claimed two "granite" sentences that were hard enough to withstand the erosion of time: "Become who you are" and "That which does not kill me makes me stronger." And so they have, both having entered the general vernacular of therapy.

What we have. Material goods are a will-o'-the-wisp. Schopenhauer argues elegantly that the accumulation of wealth and goods is endless and unsatisfying; the more we possess, the more our claims multiply. Wealth is like seawater: the more we drink, the thirstier we become. In the end, we don't have our goods-they have us.

What we have. Material goods are a will-o'-the-wisp. Schopenhauer argues elegantly that the accumulation of wealth and goods is endless and unsatisfying; the more we possess, the more our claims multiply. Wealth is like seawater: the more we drink, the thirstier we become. In the end, we don't have our goods-they have us. 2. What we represent in the eyes of others. Reputation is as evanescent as material wealth. Schopenhauer writes, "Half our worries and anxieties have arisen from our concern about the opinions of others ... we must extract this thorn from our flesh." So powerful is the urge to create a good appearance that some prisoners have gone to their execution with their clothing and final gestures foremost in their thoughts. The opinion of others is a phantasm that may alter at any moment. Opinions hang by a thread and make us slaves to what others think or, worse, to what they appear to think-for we can never know what they actually think. 3. What we are. It is only what we are that truly matters. A good conscience, Schopenhauer says, means more than a good reputation. Our greatest goal should be good health and intellectual wealth, which lead to an inexhaustible supply of ideas, independence, and a moral life. Inner equanimity stems from knowing that it is not things that disturb us, but our interpretations of things.

When we finally know we are dying, and all other sentient beings are dying with us, we start to have a burning, almost heartbreaking sense of the fragility and preciousness of each moment and each being, and from this can grow a deep, clear, limitless compassion for all beings.

It is not easy to do this. Like Agnes's sisters, family members or close friends may be eager to help but are too timid; people may fear that they are intruding or that they will unsettle the dying by raising somber topics. The dying person generally needs to take the lead in discussing fears about death. If you are dying or panicky about death, and your friends and family remain distant or respond evasively, I would suggest you stay in the here-and-now (to be discussed more fully in Chapter Seven) and speak directly to the point-for example: "I notice you don't respond directly when I discuss my fears. It will help me if I can speak openly to close friends like you. Is it too much, too painful, for you?

I believe that our need for mentors reflects much about our vulnerability and wish for a superior or supreme being. Many people, including myself, not only cherish our mentors but often credit them with more than they deserve.

Some people-supremely confident in their immunity-live heroically, often without regard for others or for their own safety. Still others attempt to transcend the painful separateness of death by way of merger-with a loved one, a cause, a community, a Divine Being. Death anxiety is the mother of all religions, which, in one way or another,

When We Are Tired, We Are Attacked by Ideas We Conquered Long Ago

everything fades," let me turn to the implications of the second proposition. "Alternatives exclude" is the underlying reason many people are driven to distraction by the necessity to make a decision. For every yes there must be a no, and every positive choice means you have to relinquish others. Many of us shrink from fully apprehending the limits, diminishment, and loss that are riveted to existence.

Pat's illusion that we are ever growing, progressing, moving upward is not uncommon. It has been greatly reinforced by Western civilization's idea of progress existing since the Enlightenment, and by the American imperative for upward mobility. Of course, progress is merely a construct; there are other ways to conceptualize history. The ancient Greeks did not subscribe to the idea of progress: on the contrary, they looked backward toward a golden age that blazed more brightly with the passing centuries. The sudden realization that upward progress is but a myth can be jolting, as it was for Pat, and entails considerable shifting of ideas and beliefs.