And, music, these songs that speak to us in these incredibly poignant ways, they’re almost like a balm for that homesickness. They remind us of something that we’ve lost or that we’re searching for. And, that’s where the transcendence comes in. Because when we listen to this music, when we allow ourselves to feel these emotions, we’re transported to a place beyond the mundane, beyond the everyday. We’re reminded of something greater than ourselves, something that connects us to a deeper, more meaningful part of existence.
And, that’s what I find so fascinating about bittersweetness. It’s not just about feeling sad or feeling happy. It’s about embracing both of those emotions, recognizing that they coexist within us, and allowing them to elevate us to a higher plane of understanding. It’s about finding beauty in the impermanence of life, in the longing and the yearning that make us human.
In my book, I explore how bittersweetness manifests in various aspects of our lives – in art, in literature, in relationships. I talk about how we can learn to embrace these conflicting emotions, how we can find solace in the midst of sorrow, and how we can use that bittersweetness to enrich our lives.
Ultimately, what I hope readers take away from Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole is a deeper appreciation for the complexities of human emotion. I want them to see that it’s okay to feel sad, to feel happy, to feel everything in between. And, that in embracing those feelings, we can find a sense of wholeness and connection that transcends the day-to-day struggles of existence.
So, as we navigate this bittersweet journey called life, let’s remember to listen to the music that moves us, to read the poetry that speaks to our souls, and to embrace the tears and the laughter as part of what makes us truly human. It’s in those moments of bittersweetness that we find our truest selves and our deepest connections to the world around us. And, in that realization, we find a sense of peace and fulfillment that can sustain us through even the darkest of times. As Susan Cain beautifully describes, there is a deep longing encoded into all of our religions. The yearning for Zion, the beloved, and God is a common thread that runs through different faiths. This longing is what connects us to the divine and to each other.
Cain introduces the concept of “holy tears,” which are shed when we witness something incredibly beautiful. It could be a piece of music, a sports moment, or an act of heroism. These tears are not tears of joy or sadness, but rather a response to the transcendence of beauty that we are beholding. It is a moment where we catch a glimpse of perfection and union, but also realize the gap between that world and the world we live in.
For example, watching a soccer game can feel like glimpsing Eden, a perfect and beautiful state that we long for but cannot fully enter. This moment of transcendence allows us to momentarily escape our earthly concerns and selves, and enter a state of perfection and beauty.
Russ Roberts reflects on how moments of transcendence in music or sports can leave us breathless, as if we are witnessing something so magnificent that it takes our breath away. Susan Cain agrees that these moments of beauty and heroism can evoke a sense of moral elevation, reminding us of the rare and extraordinary aspects of humanity.
The conversation then turns to the concept of home, which Cain believes is deeply intertwined with the idea of Eden and perfect union. Home is the place where we experience unconditional love and belonging, a place of perfect union that we are always striving to return to. Even as we venture out into the world and build new homes with family and friends, there is a constant longing to recapture the sense of home and belonging that we associate with Eden.
As we navigate the transitions of life, such as entering the empty nest phase, we are constantly seeking to find new homes and connections that bring us closer to that sense of perfect union and belonging. The longing for home, like the longing for transcendence and beauty, is a fundamental part of the human experience that connects us to something greater than ourselves.
And, it seems completely clear to me that the way to go into that phase is by recreating what home means. That my husband and I will figure out something else. We’ve been so oriented for the last however many years it is around our children, and we’ll still be oriented around them, but in a very different way. And so, we have to build new aspects of a home. Kind of build a different nest in order to feel alive and happy through that time.
And so I think that’s what we do. We are constantly in this process of re-feathering nests, building new ones, and so on. And, that’s the essence of being alive in a healthy way.
Russ Roberts: I have really good news for you about the empty nest. There are downsides. It can be very challenging at times. But, there’s an upside, which is you’re going to get control over the house music again. You will control the Sonos. That’s the way I describe it. So, I get a lot more jazz and Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald and Irish folk music since my kids left the nest. I miss them terribly. And, it is a challenging and very bittersweet moment and period. But, the sweet part is you can listen to all the Bach Partitas you want.
Susan Cain: I will say the funny thing about that is: our kids actually more or less like the same music that we do. They went through a brief period of eye-rolling when we would play the music that we like, but it didn’t last long. And, our younger one in particular, he loves the Bob Seger and the old 1970s songs that we will often listen to. He says, ‘This is so much better than contemporary music and the only reason people don’t admit this is because they think they’re not supposed to.’ So, there you go.
Russ Roberts: Okay. It’s not going to work for you. All right. I’ll find something else for you that’ll make you feel good about it.
Russ Roberts: I want to turn to the Buddhist poet, Issa, who–I don’t know if I’m saying his name correctly. Early 1800s, a very short haiku in Japanese. I’m going to read it in English. And, you spent some time riffing on this, and it’s quite powerful. It’s a very simple poem.
It is true
That this world of dew
Is a world of dew.
But even so….
Why did you include that poem? What’s it say to you?
Susan Cain: Oh, gosh. Okay. So, first of all, Issa, when he wrote this poem, he and his wife had tried to have children. They had all kinds of difficulties in having children. And, they had had babies who had passed away. And then, finally there was born to them a beautiful daughter who was the light of his life. And then, that daughter, too, succumbed–I think it was to smallpox–and she passed away at the age of something like two years old.
And, he was a Buddhist poet, as you said. And so, he was deeply schooled in the Buddhist idea of impermanence. And so, what he’s saying–and what I love so much about this poem–is he’s saying, ‘I get it. I understand that everything is impermanent. I’ve trained all my life to accept loss and to accept impermanence as the state of being. But, even so, but even so, I still am going to mourn and I still am going to rage against this.’
And, what I love about this is that he’s writing this poem to us–who are still reading it 200 years later–because he knows that all human beings go through this exact same experience. And, this is what always gets me about poetry and music in the first place, is that it’s one person writing to another person who they’ll probably never meet, but who they know share the exact same human experience. So it’s the ultimate connection.
And, part of the reason that I think it’s such a loss to not talk about the bittersweet nature of life is that I actually think it’s one of the deepest ways we have of bridging the gap between souls and between humans. The fact that we’re all united in the bittersweetness of human experience is one of the things that brings us together incredibly profoundly.
And so, that’s what you feel when you read this poem that was written by a man who lived 200 years ago who you will never meet and yet you know exactly what he experienced. And he knows yours.
Russ Roberts: You’re right about this Buddhist ideal of acceptance. And, it’s a different kind of transcendence. Transcendence of tragedy, really. And, there’s a tension in your beginnings of a journey on the Buddhist road. And, you seem to be drawn to the idea of non-attachment as it’s called, but also a little bit uncomfortable with it. What’s the tension there for you?
Susan Cain: Well, the tension is that, yes, I am drawn to it and there are ways in which I really do practice it in everyday life, and I can tell you about those in a minute. But, I’m uncomfortable with it because I don’t really believe it’s possible, fully. And, I also believe that the best of human beings is our insistence on attaching. The fact that we mourn when an attachment is broken is one of the most beautiful things about us.
So, where I’ve come to on this–and I’m looking over here because I am sitting in my office right now and I have poetry taped up all around me. And, here I’m just going to bring one down. There’s the Mary Oliver poem, “In Blackwater Woods,” and she says:
It’s the love that was shared, the bond that was formed, the connection that remains even after letting go. And, that’s what really resonates with me from your book, from Mary Oliver’s poem, from Elizabeth Bishop’s poem, and from your conversation with Gretchen Rubin.
Living in this world means loving what is mortal, holding it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it, and being able to let it go when the time comes. It’s about embracing the bittersweet nature of life, accepting the impermanence of all things, and cherishing the moments we have with the people we love.
It’s about constantly rebuilding our homes, redecorating our relationships, and finding beauty in the ever-changing landscape of life. It’s about remembering that the days are long but the years are short, and savoring each unique moment as it comes.
So, to live in this world means to love deeply, to hold on tightly, and to let go gracefully. It means embracing the beauty of impermanence, finding joy in the midst of sorrow, and honoring the connections that bind us together.
And, in the end, it’s the love that remains, the memories that linger, and the union between souls that truly matter. So, let’s love what is mortal, hold it against our bones, and when the time comes to let it go, let’s do so with a heart full of gratitude and a soul at peace.
When we experience sadness, we share in a common suffering. This sentiment captures the essence of human connection and empathy. It reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles, that everyone we encounter is fighting their own battles. This idea of shared suffering is a powerful one, as it highlights the universal nature of pain and sorrow.
The concept of the happiness of melancholy is an intriguing one. It suggests that there is a certain beauty in sadness, a depth of emotion that can bring people together in a profound way. When we experience moments of sadness or loss, we are reminded of our shared humanity, our interconnectedness with others. It is in these moments of vulnerability that we are able to truly connect with one another on a soul level.
Research has shown that our bodies have a natural response to the suffering of others. The vagus nerve, a fundamental part of our nervous system, reacts when we witness someone else in distress. This suggests that on a fundamental level, we are wired to empathize with others, to feel their pain as if it were our own. This capacity for empathy is what allows us to come together in times of need, to support one another through difficult times.
The video from the Cleveland Clinic is a powerful example of this idea in action. By showing the inner lives of random people in a hospital setting, the video reminds us that everyone we encounter has their own struggles and triumphs. It challenges us to see beyond the surface and recognize the humanity in each person we meet. This simple act of empathy can have a profound impact on how we interact with others, fostering greater understanding and compassion.
In a world that often feels divided and disconnected, it is important to remember the power of shared suffering. When we acknowledge and validate the pain of others, we create a sense of solidarity and unity. We are reminded that we are all in this together, navigating the ups and downs of life as best we can. So the next time you feel sadness or sorrow, remember that you are not alone. Reach out to others, offer a kind word or gesture, and share in the common suffering that unites us all. Actors are often praised for their ability to make audiences forget that they are watching a performance. They draw viewers in, making them empathize with the characters and feel the emotions portrayed on stage or screen. This skill is a testament to the talent and dedication of these individuals who bring stories to life through their craft.
In a conversation between Susan Cain and Russ Roberts, the topic of American attitudes towards happiness and the pressure to present a facade of perfection was discussed. The concept of “effortless perfection” among young people, particularly on college campuses, was highlighted as a common expectation. This pressure to appear happy, successful, and socially adept at all times can take a toll on individuals, leading to feelings of inadequacy and loneliness.
Cain shared a personal anecdote about cultural differences in attitudes towards smiling in photographs. She recalled seeing photos of unsmiling teenagers from Eastern Europe, contrasting with the constant smiles in her own teenage photos. This serves as a reminder that societal norms and expectations can vary greatly across different cultures, influencing how individuals present themselves to the world.
Roberts also touched on the theme of loneliness, quoting a poignant passage from Thomas Wolfe’s “Look Homeward, Angel” that speaks to the fundamental sense of aloneness experienced by human beings. The poem reflects on the idea that despite our connections with others, there is a deep sense of solitude that is inherent to the human experience.
Ultimately, the conversation delves into the complexities of human emotions and the ways in which individuals navigate societal expectations and personal struggles. Through their discussion, Cain and Roberts explore the themes of happiness, loneliness, and the bittersweet nature of life, shedding light on the challenges faced by individuals in today’s world. As actors bring these stories to life on stage and screen, they offer a window into the human experience, inviting audiences to reflect on their own emotions and connections with others. The feeling of aloneness often stems from not being completely honest about our human experiences and emotions. It’s easy to believe that we are the only ones going through certain struggles or feeling a certain way, which can lead to a sense of isolation. However, the truth is that we are never truly alone in our experiences.
When we listen to sad music or read poetry that resonates with us, it can be a powerful reminder that we are not the only ones feeling a certain way. The composer or poet is sharing their own experiences and emotions, and by connecting with their work, we realize that we are not alone in our feelings. It’s like a wave of love washing over us, reminding us that there is a fundamental connection between all of us.
This is why art, music, and literature are so important. They allow us to connect with others on a deep emotional level and remind us that we are all in this together. When we create or consume art that speaks to our truths, we are reaffirming our connection to the world around us.
In essence, the beauty of art lies in its ability to bridge the gap between individuals and create a sense of unity. Through storytelling and expression, we can find solace in the fact that we are not alone in our experiences. So, next time you feel alone, turn to art and let it remind you of the universal truths that bind us all together.
