Zoom out: Take the view from above
Introducing Plato's View as a mental model to problem solve and clarify your mind
Hi friends,
A thought process that might be worth giving a try: Plato’s View. In essence, zoom out. It is the Stoic practice of taking the view from above. Marcus Aurelius would often use the exercise, which invites us to take a step back, zoom out and see life from a higher vantage point than our own. Taking a bird’s eye view of your situation/problem/life/stress/emotions can help see the big picture and cleanse the mind.
For months, I have tried to remind myself: zoom out, view this Earth from above, and see how trivial much of this is. There could be billions or trillions of galaxies out there, and here we are on Earth, which spins (rotates) at a speed of about 1,000 miles per hour and orbits around the Sun at about 67,000 miles per hour. We are a blip on the radar. Planet Earth is believed to be about 4.543 billion years old, so in the grand scheme, humanity has been around for a nanosecond.
With this scale, we can gain a better perspective on the insignificance of our problems. This practice is especially helpful when dealing with challenging emotions or circumstances. That person who cut you off or turned you down at the bar? Insignificant. That mistake you made? Insignificant. That thing you’re stressed about? It too will pass.
“You can rid yourself of many useless things among those that disturb you, for they lie entirely in your imagination; and you will then gain for yourself ample space by comprehending the whole universe in your mind, and by contemplating the eternity of time, and observing the rapid change of every part of everything, how short is the time from birth to dissolution, and the illimitable time before birth as well as the equally boundless time after dissolution.” — Marcus Aurelius
When we see a bunch of ants, we’re also seeing ourselves. Zoom out a galaxy or two, and we also become ants — some of us fighting over land, money, and power. How silly! What we’re working on isn’t as important as we think. What we call “unprecedented” almost certainly isn’t. And all the menial tasks we spend time on that don’t really move the needle probably could get cut from our schedule altogether.
When we hop on flights, at both takeoff and approach, we are given a free bird’s eye view that is crystal clear. On cloudless days, you can see the ground from 35,000 feet. The massive factories and ships become small, and the big cities in the Northeast become miniscule.
In outer space you develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the Moon, international politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, ‘Look at that, you son of a bitch.
— Edgar Mitchell, Astronaut
The point is that people argue about stuff that doesn’t matter. Sometimes, we stress over stuff that doesn’t matter, stuff that isn’t in our control, and stuff that will often resolve on its own. But ultimately, when we zoom out and take the view from above, we can redirect our energy. We turn our care and attention to what matters most.
A few thoughts on false beliefs:
In 2018, I was interning in New York City, but I didn’t enjoy being in the city much. Now, working several days per week in the city, I enjoy as many moments as possible, and I’m grateful for the opportunity there. In the last few years, little about the city changed. The only thing that changed lies inside my head. Rather than focus on the crowded trains, busy stress, honking horns, and lack of trees, Stoicism has served me well. It has taught me my 2018 beliefs were all false beliefs, merely ideas of the city ingrained in my head.
Now, I use the street noise to practice stillness. I use the busy trains as practice in remaining peaceful amid chaos. I think of the rich history of the place, too. Here’s one of my favorite renditions, circa 1883:
I try meditating with each step I take on the concrete sidewalks put on the Earth, the practice popularized by Thích Nhất Hạnh, who was a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, peace activist, prolific author, poet, and teacher. And while in the city, I see it for its strengths: remarkable opportunity, food, culture, museums, art, book stores, libraries, businesses, and more. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the security people in the building. Chris, a friend and colleague who buys them orange juice, helped me get to know them. Art, a barista, and his colleagues greet me and others with a smile. These little interactions put some pep in my step.
On a similar note, I interviewed Tim Tebow in 2018, while he was in the Mets organization. We got talking about making the best use of our limited time alive, and he mentioned how he wrote one of his books: on his minor league team’s bus rides, which were many hours. Rather than complain about the long rides and wishing he were on a private jet in the Major Leagues, he saw the gift of the minors: Plenty of time to plan, reflect and write. He wrote one of his best-selling books … on his laptop, cramped in a minor league bus on highways across the Northeast. I often think about Tebow’s words when in transport or while waiting for something. Perhaps that “extra” time is a blessing in disguise for you.
This notion isn’t about false hope/optimism. It is about amplifying the goodness around us. It is also about becoming aware of the false beliefs we carry, usually while on auto-pilot.
Baby meditation (Matt Haig, “The Comfort Book”)
Imagine yourself as a baby. You would look at that baby and think that they lacked nothing. That baby came complete. Their value was innate from their first breath. Their value did not depend on external things like wealth or appearance or politics or popularity. It was the infinite value of a human life. And that value stays with us, even as it becomes easier to forget it. We stay precisely as alive and precisely as human as we were the day we were born. The only thing we need is to exist. And to hope.
Photos of the week: A lending library on the street. And a wonderful reading room at the Katonah Library (NY).
Parting thought: “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” — Helen Keller, We Bereaved
Parting question: Picture yourself in the company of a younger version of yourself. What would you say to one another? (H/T: The Isolation Journals)
Be joyful and celebrate your gifts,
Matthew
Good thoughts. I love the "Parting question "!