As I've been working on my prototype for the path of Action in The Self-Taught Life, I've noticed something strange. Or rather, it's not strange in itself, but it's strange that I've never noticed it or acknowledged it before. And because I've never acknowledged it before, I've never thought about how it impacts my every action, both small and large.

About a month ago, I did a meditation on "Thanatos," which is basically this:

“Freud proposed that humans are governed by two competing forces: Eros, the drive to life, creativity, and connection; and Thanatos, the drive toward death, stillness, and dissolution. While Eros propels us forward, the Thanatos drive pulls us toward retreat, destruction, or even self-sabotage. It’s not a desire for literal death, but a psychological longing for quiet, for the end of tension.”

from “Thanatos Drive", a meditation with Vytas for Open

At the time, I didn't really see the relevance of Thanatos in my life. But then I started to notice it. And when I did, I started to notice it everywhere.

Thanatos shows up for me as a fundamental reluctance I feel toward action of any kind. It pops up with small things like brushing my teeth or taking a shower or making dinner, as well as with big things like doing my most important work (right now, this) or starting a fun project like learning to sew so I can alter my own clothes. It pops up with things that are "shoulds" and things I want for the future and things I intrinsically love to do.

So while I hear a lot about creativity and fear and the avoidance that comes along with that, I'm starting to wonder if what goes on with me is a lot more basic and pervasive. Thanatos is my habitual "first thought" response toward most things. It may even be a quick thought, barely noticeable, but it's there.

“The mind now thinks; now acts; and each fit reproduces the other. When the artist has exhausted his materials, when the fancy no longer paints, when thoughts are no longer apprehended, and books are a weariness—he has always the resource to live.” 

from “The American Scholar” by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lately, I've been practicing just noticing that reluctance, and not doing anything about it. Just accepting that reluctance is there, and that possibly it's there for many, many people, and there's nothing inherently wrong with it. Possibly it's even instinctual—an urge that counterbalances the drive to engage with life fully and completely.

I would rather the reluctance not be there, of course. I don't remember it being there when I was a child, except of course when someone ruling over me told me to do something I found distasteful or boring. I never expected that as an adult, it would be my constant companion.

It's not such a bad one, I guess. And what an amazing name. Thanatos.

Thanks for being here,

Sarah Avenir