Stuckness
"The state or fact of being unable to move or progress;
the feeling of being stuck."
Oxford English Dictionary
by Jay McDaniel
A key problem in life is Stuckness. Process philosophy offers a metaphysic for understanding it.
On the one hand, process philosophers say that the universe is a creative advance into novelty. Accordingly, one form of Stuckness is being stuck in the past and not open to new possibilities in the future—new ways of thinking, feeling, and living in the world. This is the problem of many conservatives.
On the other hand, process philosophers say that every moment of experience arises out of, and depends on, the past, which is often a source of wisdom and nourishment. Accordingly, we can also be stuck in the future, lacking gratitude for the past. The key is to live with both roots and wings—with gratitude for the past and openness to the future—without being stuck in one at the expense of the other.
Stuckness has its own aesthetic. At its depth, it is the act of focusing on—and then clinging to—something finite as if it were infinite, making a god of it and thereby ignoring or neglecting what also deserves recognition. It yields a certain intensity of satisfaction by concentrating on one thing while relegating all else to the background, as if other realities were unimportant or unworthy of attention. Whitehead, in Process and Reality, names this tendency “narrowness” and contrasts it with “width.” Stuckness, by its very nature, chooses narrowness over width.
Given this way of thinking, there are many forms of Stuckness in human life. We can be stuck on careers, relationships, other people, philosophies, ideologies, and, of course, various means of momentary satisfaction—alcohol and drugs, for example. We can also be stuck on ourselves—either in self-elevation, where we cling to inflated images of who we are, or in self-denigration, where we are trapped by diminished images.
We can even be stuck on God, or at least on our idea of God. We may become so focused on a particular conception of God—whether one we prefer or one we despise—that we lose the capacity to pay attention to other subjects and to remain sensitive to how others might see things. And, of course, we can make a god of our concept of God. This is theological Stuckness.
The antidote to Stuckness is what spiritual writers call interior freedom. This is not external freedom; it is not the freedom to do anything you want. It is freedom from compulsive attachments to the objects to which we are stuck. This freedom is a letting go, a lightening up, and a widening out. It is a letting go—or better, a dropping away—of inordinate attachments so we can respond to life with equanimity and discernment, responsively rather than reactively. It is a lightening up so that we carry a spirit of playfulness and humor in our hearts. And it is a widening out so that we come to include more width in our consciousness and are not so tunnel-visioned.
Yet it is difficult, if not impossible, to will ourselves into this letting go, lightening up, and widening out. Typically, they occur without our will, through events in our lives that pull us out of our Stuckness. They can be tragic, comic, or somewhere in between, functioning to loosen the ties of Stuckness and allow us to step forward with greater openness.
They can also be shocking. We can be jolted out of Stuckness by something so horrible, or so beautiful, that we see the world and ourselves anew, in an unstuck way. But the process is never complete, and we can always fall back into various degrees and kinds of Stuckness.
This is where grace comes in. Process philosophers speak of God as a living presence in our lives as a spirit of creative transformation. This presence might also be called grace or healing or love. Grace is a gift freely given by God. We need not earn it. Receptivity to it not an act of willfulness; rather, it is an act of willingness—a willingness to let the living spirit of God work in your heart. This living spirit need not be called “God” in order to do its work. All that is required is a trust that there is something more at work in your heart, and for that matter in the world at large, than force and ego and power. Whitehead called it love and connected it with Jesus. In Process and Reality he writes:
There is, however, in the Galilean origin of Christianity yet another suggestion which does not fit very well with any of the three main strands of thought. It does not emphasize the ruling Caesar, or the ruthless moralist, or the unmoved mover. It dwells upon the tender elements in the world, which slowly and in quietness operate by love; and it finds purpose in the present immediacy of a kingdom not of this world. Love neither rules, nor is it unmoved; also it is a little oblivious as to morals. It does not look to the future; for it finds its own reward in the immediate present. (AN Whitehead)
What is this reward? It is kindness, playfulness, trust, and love. It bubble ups in us, almost despite ourselves. It is interior freedom: the present immediacy of a kingdom not of this world.
On the one hand, process philosophers say that the universe is a creative advance into novelty. Accordingly, one form of Stuckness is being stuck in the past and not open to new possibilities in the future—new ways of thinking, feeling, and living in the world. This is the problem of many conservatives.
On the other hand, process philosophers say that every moment of experience arises out of, and depends on, the past, which is often a source of wisdom and nourishment. Accordingly, we can also be stuck in the future, lacking gratitude for the past. The key is to live with both roots and wings—with gratitude for the past and openness to the future—without being stuck in one at the expense of the other.
Stuckness has its own aesthetic. At its depth, it is the act of focusing on—and then clinging to—something finite as if it were infinite, making a god of it and thereby ignoring or neglecting what also deserves recognition. It yields a certain intensity of satisfaction by concentrating on one thing while relegating all else to the background, as if other realities were unimportant or unworthy of attention. Whitehead, in Process and Reality, names this tendency “narrowness” and contrasts it with “width.” Stuckness, by its very nature, chooses narrowness over width.
Given this way of thinking, there are many forms of Stuckness in human life. We can be stuck on careers, relationships, other people, philosophies, ideologies, and, of course, various means of momentary satisfaction—alcohol and drugs, for example. We can also be stuck on ourselves—either in self-elevation, where we cling to inflated images of who we are, or in self-denigration, where we are trapped by diminished images.
We can even be stuck on God, or at least on our idea of God. We may become so focused on a particular conception of God—whether one we prefer or one we despise—that we lose the capacity to pay attention to other subjects and to remain sensitive to how others might see things. And, of course, we can make a god of our concept of God. This is theological Stuckness.
The antidote to Stuckness is what spiritual writers call interior freedom. This is not external freedom; it is not the freedom to do anything you want. It is freedom from compulsive attachments to the objects to which we are stuck. This freedom is a letting go, a lightening up, and a widening out. It is a letting go—or better, a dropping away—of inordinate attachments so we can respond to life with equanimity and discernment, responsively rather than reactively. It is a lightening up so that we carry a spirit of playfulness and humor in our hearts. And it is a widening out so that we come to include more width in our consciousness and are not so tunnel-visioned.
Yet it is difficult, if not impossible, to will ourselves into this letting go, lightening up, and widening out. Typically, they occur without our will, through events in our lives that pull us out of our Stuckness. They can be tragic, comic, or somewhere in between, functioning to loosen the ties of Stuckness and allow us to step forward with greater openness.
They can also be shocking. We can be jolted out of Stuckness by something so horrible, or so beautiful, that we see the world and ourselves anew, in an unstuck way. But the process is never complete, and we can always fall back into various degrees and kinds of Stuckness.
This is where grace comes in. Process philosophers speak of God as a living presence in our lives as a spirit of creative transformation. This presence might also be called grace or healing or love. Grace is a gift freely given by God. We need not earn it. Receptivity to it not an act of willfulness; rather, it is an act of willingness—a willingness to let the living spirit of God work in your heart. This living spirit need not be called “God” in order to do its work. All that is required is a trust that there is something more at work in your heart, and for that matter in the world at large, than force and ego and power. Whitehead called it love and connected it with Jesus. In Process and Reality he writes:
There is, however, in the Galilean origin of Christianity yet another suggestion which does not fit very well with any of the three main strands of thought. It does not emphasize the ruling Caesar, or the ruthless moralist, or the unmoved mover. It dwells upon the tender elements in the world, which slowly and in quietness operate by love; and it finds purpose in the present immediacy of a kingdom not of this world. Love neither rules, nor is it unmoved; also it is a little oblivious as to morals. It does not look to the future; for it finds its own reward in the immediate present. (AN Whitehead)
What is this reward? It is kindness, playfulness, trust, and love. It bubble ups in us, almost despite ourselves. It is interior freedom: the present immediacy of a kingdom not of this world.