Rollo May

Tremendous pride was exhibited in fascism, as everyone knows who has seen the pictures of the strutting Mussolini and psychopathic Hitler; but fascism is a development in people who are empty, anxious and despairing, and therefore seize on megalomaniac promises.

Poets may be delightful creatures in the meadow or the garret, but they are menaces on the assembly line.

What is important is not what is said, but that some talk be continually going on. Silence is the great crime, for silence is lonely and frightening. One shouldn’t feel much, nor put much meaning into what one says: what you say seems to have more effect if you don’t try to understand. One has the strange impression that these people are all afraid of something — what is it? It is as if the “yatata” were a primitive tribal ceremony, a witch dance calculated to appease some god. There is a god, or rather a demon, they are trying to appease: it is the specter of loneliness which hovers outside like the fog drifting in from the sea. One will have to meet this specter’s leering terror for the first half-hour one is awake in the morning anyway, so let one do everything possible to keep it away now.

But in our age of emptiness, tragedies are relatively rare. Or if they are written, the tragic aspect is the very fact that human life is so empty, as in Eugene O’Neill’s drama, The Iceman Cometh. This play is set in a saloon, and its dramatis personae — alcoholics, prostitutes, and, as the chief character, a man who in the course of the play goes psychotic — can dimly recall the periods in their lives when they did believe in something. It is this echo of human dignity in a great void of emptiness that gives this drama the power to elicit the emotions of pity and terror of classical tragedy.

A myth is a way of making sense in a senseless world. Myths are narrative patterns that give significance to our existence.

Recall how often in human history the saint and the rebel have be the same person. (p. 35)

When I use the word rebel for the artist, I do not refer to revolutionary or to such things as taking over the dean’s office; that is a different matter. Artists are generally soft-spoken persons who are concerned with their inner visions and images. But that is precisely what makes them feared by any coercive society. For they are the bearers of the human being’s age-old capacity to be insurgent.

Intense fatigue or illness may also weaken the control of the cortex. Hence we find tired or sick persons responding to threats with a greater degree of undifferentiated anxiety. In psychoanalytic terms, we would speak of this as regression.

"... günümüzde radyo programlarının kapanışında sarf edilen tuhaf bir cümle var: "Dinlediğiniz için teşekkürler"... Alkışı kabul etmek ayrı, fakat dinleyiciye sizi dinleyip eğlenme lütfunu bahşettiği için teşekkür etmek bambaşka bir şey. Bu durum verilen hizmete atfedilecek değer yahut değersizliğin tüketici veya alıcının keyfine kaldığı anlamına geliyor... birçok insan davranışlarının değerini davranışın kendisiyle değil de bu davranışın nasıl kabul gördüğüyle ölçüyor. (S. 59-60)

Modern esere altında yatan ezoterik şifreyi bilmeden bakan çoğu insan, hatta zeki olanlar dahi hiçbir şey anlayamaz. [Mondrian, Pollock]... yetenekli sanatçıların kendilerini ancak bu denli sınırlı bir dille ifade edebilmeleri toplumumuza ilişkin çok önemli bir ipucu vermiyor mu? (S. 65)

"Hayat aynı anda hem kendini yinelemekle hem de aşmaya çalışmakla meşguldür." diye ifade eder Simone de Beauvoir etik üzerine kaleme aldığı kitabında; "tek yaptığı kendini idame ettirmekse eğer, yaşamak ölmenin bir çeşididir ve insanın varlığı tuhaf bir bitki örtüsünden farksızlaşır..." (S. 135)

[Kafese Kapatılan Adam hikayesi] (S. 139-141)"

When Spinoza in the seventeenth century used the word reason, he meant an attitude toward life in which the mind united the emotions with the ethical goals and other aspects of the “whole man.” When people today use the term they almost always imply a splitting of the personality. They ask in one form or another: “Should I follow reason or give way to sensual passions and needs or be faithful to my ethical duty?

It takes a strong self — that is, a strong sense of personal identity — to relate fully to nature without being swallowed up.

Countless times a week, furthermore, he receives proof in his consulting work that when men at last accept the fact that they cannot successfully lie to themselves, and at last learn to take themselves seriously, they discover previously unknown and often remarkable recuperative powers within themselves.

One has to remain detached in order to triumph <i> over </i> others

Because it is possible to create — creating one’s self, willing to be one’s self, as well as creating in all the innumerable daily activities (and these are two phases of the same process) — one has anxiety. One would have no anxiety if there were no possibility whatever. Now creating, actualizing one’s possibilities, always involves negative as well as positive aspects. It always involves destroying the status quo, destroying old patterns within oneself, progressively destroying what one has clung to from childhood on, and creating new and original forms and ways of living. If one does not do this, one is refusing to grow, refusing to avail himself of his possibilities; one is shirking his responsibility to himself. Hence refusal to actualize one’s possibilities brings guilt toward one’s self. But creating also means destroying the status quo of one’s environment, breaking the old forms; it means producing something new and original in human relations as well as in cultural forms (e.g., the creativity of the artist). Thus every experience of creativity has its potentiality of aggression or denial toward other persons in one’s environment or established patterns within one’s self. To put the matter figuratively, in every experience of creativity something in the past is killed that something new in the present may be born. Hence, for Kierkegaard, guilt feeling is always a concomitant of anxiety: both are aspects of experiencing and actualizing possibility. The more creative the person, he held, the more anxiety and guilt are potentially present.

condemning ourselves is the quickest way to get a substitute sense of worth. People who have almost, but not quite, lost their feeling of worth generally have very strong needs to condemn themselves, for that is the most ready way of drowning the bitter ache of feelings of worthlessness and humiliation. It is as though the person were saying to himself, “I must be important that I am so worth condemning,” or “Look how noble I am: I have such high ideals and I am so ashamed of myself that I fall short.” A psychoanalyst once pointedly remarked that when someone in psychoanalysis berates himself at great length for picayune sins, he feels like asking, “Who do you think you are?” The self-condemning person is very often trying to show how important he is that God is so concerned with punishing him.