Session Fifteen

Choosing Your Code

Objective:
Unlearn all-or-nothing indoctrination that breeds paralysis.

Pivot toward fusion.

Imagination creates reality.

—Richard Wagner

W
hen Sheena Iyengar and her research team set up their Wilkin and Sons jam display in an upscale California market, they discovered what happens when we have too many choices. While customers were enticed by the twenty-four jars laid out before them, few purchases were made. They were only one-tenth as likely to buy versus customers who were offered just six jam options. This type of study has been replicated in many ways, leaving decision-making experts like Iyengar to conclude that excessive options can lead to choice paralysis.

Barry Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less, agrees. He says that our tendency to hold choice as sacred, as the hallmark of individual freedom and self-determination, might be setting us up for unnecessary anxiety. We lament over decisions before we even make them, hold unrealistically high expectations, then blame ourselves for our perceived failures.

It’s one thing when we’re trying to decide over cherry or plum jam, or find our way through aisles offering twenty-nine different kinds of chicken soup and fifteen brands of extra virgin olive oil. It’s another when we’re trying to cook up a code for living—the ethical framework that drives our decisions. Devising one in our anything-goes culture is a lot harder than picking from the fourteen types of Cheerios supposed to help us start our days right.

As difficult as it may be to pinpoint, the last thing we need is to freeze up and experience choice paralysis when it comes to identifying the values that inform how we think and what we do. We need to become imagineers—those who can imagine ways to go beyond and engineer a life that allows us to shine brightest.

Don’t Get Lost in the Aisles

When you work in higher education, you see firsthand how the abundance of choices can wreak havoc on students. There are more degree and career tracks than ever before. It’s exciting, but it has its downside, too. Limitless can turn out to be limiting. We should never lose sight that choices are a privilege; not everyone has them. But “anything goes” can leave us marinating in worry and angst. “You can do anything” seems a lot better than “You don’t have a choice,” but in reality, neither extreme is ideal.

Choice paralysis isn’t reserved for young people—at every age and life stage, we face confusion over what’s right or wrong. Many of my best friends and colleagues in their late fifties, sixties, and seventies are always working on their second-half ambitions. Some have reinvented themselves and started new careers. They’ve all faced points when life was turned upside down, requiring a complete overhaul of previous assumptions, roles, and identities. Life requires this type of agility and resilience of us at every turn.

Know the Science Behind Choice

In 1935, John Ridley Stroop wanted to find out what would happen if he asked someone to look at words, but instead of reading them, say the color. You can Google it to give it a try.

If you’re like most people, you spouted out the words you saw instead of naming the colors. The Stroop test shows we make meaning of words faster than colors. Reading is more automatic for most of us, and color doesn’t influence meaning like words do.

When we consider the meaning making required of us in everyday life, it’s clear we need to make sure that we’re paying attention to more than the automatic impulses of our brains. Think of the mistakes we could be making without a blink.

In Nudge: Improving Decisions About Health, Wealth and Happiness, Richard Thalar and Cass Sunstein draw upon behavioral science and economics to explain how and why humans are prone to making mistakes—ranging from consumption to neglect of natural resources to poor investments. Despite popular beliefs, the authors explain that the assumption that we typically make choices in our best interest is false.

Thalar and Sunstein emphasize that we often take the path of least resistance, defaulting to either doing nothing or doing what’s fast and automatic. They say we need to learn choice architecture to help bring us to better decisions. Thalar and Sunstein emphasize that our choices are not made in a vacuum, and when we don’t notice environmental influence, the consequences will be worse than mistaking orange for pink.

At the University of Michigan, Raymond De Young is using Stroop Test research to explore ways we can put choices into perspective, avoiding overconsumption. He calls for an “urgent transition” from the prevailing thinking that choice abundance equals prosperity. He worries that we will continue to experience unwelcome consequences of attempting “limitless growth on a finite planet.” De Young suggests that the unfolding resource descent is going to send us into shock, and that learning “behavioral entrepreneurship” is essential for all citizens, so that we can work toward simplicity, frugality, and sustainability.

In my study, my students—who were from twenty to sixty-five years old—repeatedly told me about moments when they felt completely paralyzed by the choices and changes confronting them. There were times when a short span of time would suddenly bring on enormous disruption. This left them in a place where they felt like they were both spinning and stuck all at the same time.

Finding our code to live by can be like trying to find our way through a Cheesecake Factory menu. The revolutionary changes in what we study, what job we pick, who and how we love, where we travel, who we hang with, how we communicate, and how we define our purpose are enough to make us permanently dizzy. Plus, there are always twists in our spirals that we weren’t expecting. It can be difficult to know what the good life means, never mind being able to sustain it.

My students told me that they tried going back to what they were first fed, but it wasn’t enough protein to keep them going in today’s global world. For most of us, the families and communities we originate from were only given one kind of Cheerios to pick from. There weren’t as many aisles to go down. Think of the changes we’ve seen unfold over time:

On resilience:

Boomers (born 1945–1964):
I had to walk ten miles in the snow to get to school.

Generation X (born 1965–1980):
I had to wait at the bus stop in the cold.

Millennials (born 1981–1995):
I didn’t always get a turn in the heated front seat on the way to school.

Generation Z (born after 1995):
They keep calling me special snowflake.

On diversity:

Boomers:

I’m not as bad as Archie Bunker—or my parents, who were openly racist.

Generation X:

I didn’t get enough exposure until I went to college/work.

Millennials:

98 percent of my friends are different than me.

Generation Z:

Duh. Why do we even need to talk about this?

On relationships:

Boomers:

I’ve been married longer than the sum of all your friends’ relationships.

Generation X:

My partner and I are consciously uncoupling.

Millennials:

Does this seem like an okay first wedding dress?

Generation Z:

I much prefer hookups over breakups.

On technology/communication:

Boomers:

I wrote letters and used rotary dial phones.

Generation X:

I got my first flip phone when I was twenty-five.

Millennials:

.

I was born holding an iPad in my hands, and would rather text than talk

Generation Z:

. . . I’m on Snapchat.

On finding information:

Boomers:

I made regular trips to the library and listened to my teachers.

Generation X:

I used Encyclopedia Britannica and read a lot of books.

Millennials:

Wikipedia is saved in my Favorites.

Generation Z:

My phone tells me everything I need to know, including secrets about my teachers.

On religion:

Boomers:

I attended weekly services and gave a lot of time and money to the church.

Generation X:

I made obligatory appearances on major holidays.

Millennials:

Does yoga count?

Generation Z:

We are the religion.

On science:

Boomers:

We only talked about it during science class.

Generation X:

That Bill Nye guy is entertaining.

Millennials:

I hope I can sign up to get myself cloned.

Generation Z:

I already have my 23 and Me profile so I know my entire chemical makeup.

On travel:

Boomers:

My family drove to the lake every summer.

Generation X:

I took my first plane ride on my honeymoon.

Millennials:

I’ve been to eleven different countries.

Generation Z:

I get itchy if I’m home for more than a few weeks.

On parenting:

Boomers:

Children should be seen and not heard. Or they’ll get a slap.

Generation X:

We’re not your friend, but we will listen.

Millennials:

Break out the bubble wrap and helmets.

Generation Z:

There are more parenting styles than cereals.

On growing up:

Boomers:

I was kicked out of the house at eighteen and went to work.

Generation X:

It took me until my thirties, but I survived.

Millennials:

I still live at home with my parents.

Generation Z:

I’m going to try adulting today.

On school:

Boomers:

I got hit with rulers. Most of my friends graduated high school

Generation X:

A lot of my friends went to college. The homework wasn’t too bad.

Millennials:

They put me on Ritalin in seventh grade. Everyone else was on it, too.

Generation Z:

I’ll need to know my college choices by kindergarten. I’ll finish college in high school and my bachelor’s and master’s in three years and still won’t find a job.

On work:

Boomers:

I’ve stayed at the same company for longer than you’ve been alive.

Generation X:

I only moved a couple times, when there was good reason.

Millennials:

I’ll stay for no longer than 4.4 years, then start my own company.

Generation Z:

I didn’t even make it through the job interview. They wanted me to live to work, and I need balance.

The rapid changes in society affect all of us, at every age. It can feel like a free-for-all compared to the way it was. Many of the changing tides reflect incredible advances in travel, communication, science, and technology. Adapting and breaking out from old ways can make us feel like we’re spiraling out of control. We know that this kind of monumental change requires us to be agile, but it’s a lot to integrate.

When we base our life codes entirely on past thinking, we end up ignoring the reality of our global context. It’s not that plain Cheerios don’t have redeeming value. But if that’s all we eat, metaphorically, we’ll miss the chance to activate the agility we need to fuel the kind of vibrant energy we need to make it in the twenty-first century. We can’t stay stuck milling in the aisles for long if we want to make progress.

When we’re trying to get our footing, messages can still haunt us that our lives have gone totally off the rails because plain Cheerios are no longer a staple. We’ve been conditioned to think we will go into anaphylactic shock when we venture out and try something different. Simultaneously, today’s times tell us we have to indulge in everything to be fulfilled.

Imagineering is a process of imagining and engineering our lives. It doesn’t dismiss tradition but instead allows for integrated behavior based on what we have consciously unlearned and relearned. Contrary to what we’re often told, we don’t have to operate in all-or-nothing terms. We can be grounded while being open-minded and adaptable to new perspectives. We can enjoy choices, but we don’t need to be gluttons either. Even when the new global territory feels like the Wild West, we can still find our way through uncharted terrain. There will be times when we don’t need to reinvent the wheel, and there will be others when we need a whole new vehicle. It’s all part of the adventure.

Fuse Your Code

When I gathered six of my students for our Monday night think-and-do tank meeting, I knew they’d waste no time.1 I’d just shared with them the findings from my study and wanted to talk with them about how they were imagineering their own codes for living.

They emphasized that they didn’t want to get caught up complaining about “problems of privilege,” or become like the “worried well,” underappreciating their opportunities. They told me they felt lucky that they even had choices. Gratitude was critical. They never wanted to take what they had for granted. They were very aware that few had the luxury of choice.

I rattled off a few intentionally open-ended questions, and everyone started describing how the noise of endless choice affected them. At first, the options were exciting. Then they became distractions from working toward imagineering the kind of life code that allowed them to be the conscious global citizens they wanted to be.

My students told me they wanted a code that was we- not me-focused. Even with good intentions, they still got heat from their families and communities of origin, where agility was interpreted as abandonment. Their families wanted the “we” to mean “them,” not a larger global community and perspective. My students come from different countries and contexts, and are all well into their twenties, but all faced generational pressure to stay with the norms their parents and grandparents had followed. It was hard for them to be real when they’d experienced so much change, but the family still pressured them to be earlier versions of themselves.

They were being asked to pull off an epic and contradictory feat—grow, but stay the same. Everyone shot up in their chair when I asked if they’ve been made to feel they’ve been disloyal by being told, “You’re not the same person” or “You’ve changed,” in a tone clearly not meant as a compliment.

The accusation of forgetting where we came from stings. We talked about how hard perceived abandonment hits, especially when love for family is unquestionable. Love and loyalty don’t cancel out all questions, though. They create temptation to go along to get along. It was hard facing the deep guilt, shame, and isolation that come from choosing a code that doesn’t match up perfectly with the people to whom you’ve been closest—the ones who raised you, whom you respect and love, yet with whom you still have significant differences. The tension was hard to bear.

Miguel said he wanted to get to a place where it didn’t feel like such an “identity crisis,” but more of a “truth of identity” where sincerity could prevail, and he could be himself with less conflict. He didn’t want family to think they were being betrayed, but he knew that his time travelling the globe had changed him. He had expanded his horizons, no longer fitting into the exact space his family had carved out for him.

Integrating one precise “certain” framework—one that you’ve always known—with the endless sea of choices can make you feel like you’re drowning. Going beyond is hard to do, as generational codes are strong undercurrents in all of our lives. Despite the anxiety it provokes to take a stand, maintaining an image based on who people thought we were or needed us to be creates more problems than it solves.

Family tensions are among the hardest to reconcile, but it’s usually the first stop necessary to figuring out our codes. None of us wanted to kiss authenticity good-bye, but we didn’t want to write off people we love either. Everyone (including myself) agreed that this made us feel like we needed to fuse perspectives together, rather than take an all-or-nothing approach.

Each generation bases its own codes on the information available, context, and society’s progressions (some might argue digressions). They are a lot like fashion trends—what seemed like a good choice in the 1980s becomes laughable, but then manages to resurface.2 The pendulum is always swinging back and forth—one generation handles things in a certain way with the resources they have available; then the times take a new direction. It’s not that one way is good or bad; there are just different approaches in each context. Conflict about what’s best—between generations, and even within ourselves—is inevitable. We remain stuck trying to decide what to do, instead of realizing we can fuse something new.

It’s not always tensions that get us down. Many of my students talked about having to be “pioneers” in a new global frontier. They didn’t have any input from their upbringings—they didn’t feel they had much of anything being projected upon them. Although that seemed like a relief to those of us in different situations, it still wasn’t easy. My students were forging their way in uncharted territory, which I saw repeatedly in my study and during our meeting. Liang wished for some kind of “basic standards” for global living. She had lived in the United States for a while, her husband was from Israel, and they wished for a more specific guiding frame to follow. She told us:

I think there are too many choices. There’s like a conflict, because there are no basic standards. Money is like a God, but there’s no moral compass. You don’t even know what the right way is.

As we brainstormed possibilities, we kept talking about “basic standards,” trying to imagine what a global code of ethics could look like. It’s a complicated topic that has created much debate and dissent, but our team loves tackling these kinds of conversations. Many religious groups think they have sole license on universal concepts like love but only sell them within a package that requires conformity to a system filled with contradictions that end up diluting its power. Even the Dalai Lama, in his book Beyond Religion: Ethics for a Whole World, advocates against pushing any one paradigm on everyone. He says, “I am a man of religion, but religion alone cannot answer all our problems.” He reveres and honors Buddhist teachings and traditions but does not think forcing them upon anyone of a different faith tradition does anyone any good.

Throughout the book, the Dalai Lama emphasizes the progress that’s been made in neuroscience, allowing greater understanding of how deliberate cultivation of qualities like compassion, loving-kindness, attention, and a calm mind are beneficial to all. He worries that our focus on the material aspects of life are hampering our instincts for compassion and cultivating moral ethics and inner values. We’re living as if stuff will save our souls, and that if someone looks at life through a different lens, we should knock their lights out. Love and light need to be spread, and even if we are drawing on different sources, it doesn’t mean we can’t find connections to fuse. With 7 billion people on the earth, we will never reach consensus, but we need to start somewhere.

Start with You

Ironically, getting to we first requires us to be self-led. We need to find our own lights and footing on the paths we are trying to navigate. As a team, we kept circling back to our desire to have close relationships with our families, while going beyond traditions that didn’t fit with our consciously chosen values. Luckily, Jessica happened to be working toward her internal family systems (IFS) therapy certificate, built on a theory that combines systems thinking with recognizing the multiplicity of the mind.

IFS provides a lens to help us imagineer how to turn our usual habits and behaviors, the ones formed early on as protective mechanisms to keep us functional and safe, into more adaptive behaviors as adults. For example, some of us hate confrontation and will agree to things that go against our grain just to avoid people being upset with us. Some of us struggle with low self-esteem in the context of our families, where we were handed a certain role and struggle to unclamp from it. Some of us were taught hate and fear. Even within a loving kinship nest, there’s always going to be some forms of insularity and complicated dynamics that we need to go beyond.

The students on my team and in my study originate from many countries around the world. They felt “totally disrupted” in a new land, trying to make their way. Wherever we’re from, when we first leave home, we are forced to become more self-led. My international students dealt with loneliness, identity confusion, and yearning for the familiar. Over time, they began to acclimate into a new rhythm that allowed them to thrive.

IFS offers eight Cs to help us become more self-led when we’re trying to make our way in life:

The eight Cs make a lot of sense. Each trait and behavior lays an excellent foundation for imagineering our codes. Given the complexity of our minds, relationships, and social context, being self-led isn’t a me-
endeavor; it helps us become better global contributors. This helps us connect, wherever we’re situated.

After discussing how IFS applies to transitions from family—whether physical, philosophical, or some combination—Jenna chimed in with some thoughts on how brain science plays a role in our behavior. The reptilian and mammalian parts of our brains influence how we choose to interact and are often at conflict with one another. The reptile in us is led by fear instincts. It can cause us to want to dominate and make quick decisions. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but it helps us get out there and do our best to survive.

The mammal side also helps us survive, but through different pathways. It craves attachment, nurturing, and feeding. It prompts us toward community and intimacy. We are contradictory creatures who need Mama’s milk, but we can’t survive if we’re unable to digest solids from the larger terrain. We need to be quick on our feet but grounded in strong connections.

Imagineering our code is necessary but often painful work. We can hand the choice over and let someone else decide, or we can take initiative to lead the way. Choice paralysis can leave us stuck eating plain Cheerios because we’re fearful of reactions that may result if we’re caught in aisles where we were once forbidden. We might not need to clip our roots altogether. Our fused codes can take the best of what we’ve learned and unlearned, inviting the reptiles and mammals to travel together. We don’t have to throw the milk out with the cereal to design a code that sets us up to soar as conscious global citizens. There’s no time for paralysis when the world needs light to pour in from as many sources as possible.