Aug 25, 2011

“Love is just another name for what never gets old”

Here are, I think, the main points from Jonah Lehrer’s recent post called “Love is the Opposite of Underwear”:

Dreams do come true. But first we need to pick the right one.

One of the most deep seated features of the human mind is that it quickly takes things for granted, becoming numb to the predictable perceptions and pleasures of the world. Our brain is designed to be ungrateful, every pleasure a fleeting thing.

The only dreams worth pursuing are those that don’t bore us, even after we put in 10,000 hours of practice. They contain the kind of subtle thrills that don’t get old, that we don’t adapt to, that keep us motivated and interested for years and years at a time. Because that’s what it takes to succeed, to accomplish something interesting.

Don’t apologize for your obsession. Just be grateful you are obsessed with something, that you’ve found a goal worth getting gritty over. Because if your goals ever feel tedious, then you’re never going to put in the necessary work. Grit requires passion. Grit requires love. And love is just another name for what never gets old.

I’m a big fan of Jonah Lehrer, and Buddha knows I’m sympathetic to any arguments about pursuing interestingness, but this particular argument strikes me as dangerous.

I agree with this much:

1) You’ll be more successful with some projects than others.
2) Success requires sustained grit.
3) Sustained grit requires sustained interest.
4) The brain is an easily bored, ungrateful bitch.
5) There might be one or a few special projects that do not bore your brain over time.
Therefore, you’ll be more successful with those rare projects that do not bore your brain over time.

But with my mind currently being heavily occupied with online dating, I of course wanted to translate this to romantic relationships, which isn’t hard to do:

1) You’ll be more successful with some partners than others.
2) Success requires sustained grit.
3) Sustained grit requires sustained interest.
4) The brain is an easily bored, ungrateful bitch.
5) There might be one or a few special partners that do not bore your brain over time.
Therefore, you’ll be more successful with those rare partners that do not bore your brain over time.

The implication is that if your partner gets less interesting or less attractive over time, you probably chose the wrong partner, so you better start looking around for the “right” one.

It took me awhile to identify what I think is the problem with this, but once I found it, it seemed pretty obvious:

Successful relationships and probably even successful projects require more than sustained interest; more importantly, they require a commitment to work through all the myriad petty little unsexy things that constitute a typical day. They require that you not jump ship at the first signs of tedium or normality. They require a recognition that not even the rarest of projects or partners is interesting all the time, or even most of the time, and neither are you.

The obsessive brand of interest that characterizes being “in love” rarely or never lasts. If you expect it to, you are in trouble.

Obsessive interest is just a feeling. Feelings can be manifestations of love, and they can accompany it, but they are not what love is. At least not the important type.

C.S. Lewis said that the important kind of love – the kind of love experienced by two people who have been together for decades – is not merely a feeling but is "a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit."

I’ll paraphrase David Foster Wallace again: “The really important kind of love involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about the other person and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.”

I’d change Jonah’s conclusion to this:

In looking for a partner (or project), one important consideration is whether they seem likely to remain interesting over time. But then, crucially, you’ve got to commit to them in all their human-ness and yours, recognizing that neither of you are likely to remain obsessively interesting to the other.