Chasing Hares
There I sat in the rundown metal bleachers of a greyhound racing park, the matte gray sky almost entirely blocking the sun. The stands were mostly empty. The several hundred in attendance (at most) fell into one of two categories, beach vacationers avoiding boredom on a rainy day and regulars. You could quickly identify which group everyone fell into with astonishing accuracy.
I don’t recommend going to the greyhound races, more than once anyway. I’m hardly an animal rights activist (you can find me at Keeneland watching the ponies throughout the spring and fall meets), but it’s hard not to feel sorry for the wiry muzzled pooches. I’m not the only one who feels this way; the sport is now illegal in most states, and judging by that day, not drawing much of a crowd these days.
Greyhounds love to run; that’s clear to see. They were bred to hunt fast prey, like rabbits, so it’s easy to feel sorry for them when they exert such energy for a payoff that doesn’t materialize.
If you don’t know, a mechanical hare is a carrot that’s dangled to motivate the coursers. The lure is attached to a bar that travels around the track, making noise as it moves to inspire a spirited chase.
At first, it is exciting to watch the racers explode from their cages, their deep chests pumping oxygen throughout their slim, aero-advantaged bodies. But quickly, you come to pity the dogs that work tirelessly chasing a false dream. Ironically, the dogs might think the same about us humans, pursuing the elusive fantasy of gambling riches.
While heat after heat of Greyhounds tenaciously chase artificial rabbits, we humans are consumed with false rewards of conditional happiness.
“If I got a promotion at work, I’d be happy.”
“If I found a partner, then I could be happy.”
“I’d be happy if I could afford to buy my own house.”
“I’d feel great if I could just get one more big client.”
These conditions can be motivational but mostly play the role of the matte gray clouds blocking happiness. The stoics had a lot to say about happiness; the social media-fueled world of instant gratification has revived their ideas.
The Philosopher and Roman Senator, Seneca, said, “being poor is not having too little; it is wanting more.”
Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius was even more direct, saying, “you could be good today. But instead, you choose tomorrow.”
Just like the dogs, we’re chasing false rewards. Instead of the greyhound track, we waste our energy on the hedonic treadmill. Like the short high of a drug, we chase pleasure after pleasure, often at the expense of long-term happiness. We convince ourselves that catching these hares will unlock the next level of happiness. But they don’t. In fact, in hindsight, the satisfaction is hardly noticeable at all, and we’re left feeling as we were before, unfulfilled.
But we’re not dogs. The Greyhound racers can’t resist their urge to chase. But we can. It’s not easy, but overcoming the biases that haunt us is possible, thanks to the same evolutionary forces that created those biases. Gratitude is the key, and the Stoics can help you unlock it.
A former slave turned stoic philosopher, Epictetus, said: “When giving your child or wife a kiss, repeat to yourself, ‘I am kissing a mortal.”
It sounds morbid, especially to a culture that attempts to ignore mortality. For as much as the media embraces the “if it bleeds, it leads,” when it comes to our mortality and that of the people we care about, we’d rather play dumb. The idea isn’t to fixate on losing those you love, instead be grateful for your time with them today.
The very idea of practicing gratitude is too new-age for some people. Perhaps they imagine it’s only done at cult-like gatherings when the lunar energy is just right. But there’s mounting evidence that a gratitude practice makes us happier (and physically healthier too). It doesn’t require special music, guidance, or skills. You don’t need a teacher, shaman, pipe, or any tools. All you need is a little time to think about the people and experiences for which you are grateful. Seriously, that’s it.
You should be grateful for the good, and that’s easy. But the stoics recommend gratitude for the bad and ugly, too, a much more complicated idea to implement (and mean it). Why should we be grateful for people who’ve treated us poorly? And why should we show gratitude for events that caused us stress and pain? The stoics believe everything is interconnected, and all our experiences are essential in shaping us, even the unpleasant ones.
If you’re ready to unplug the treadmill, Marcus Aurelius has some great advice, he said:
“Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now take what’s left and live it properly.”
We’ve put a lot of time and energy into our current endeavors, making it hard to change course. But the sunk cost fallacy is just that, a fallacy. Imagining your life lived allows you to start anew, each day being a bonus. The Stoics weren’t perfect (far from it), but I find their advice valuable in a world full of short-termism and temptation.
Dog tracks may soon be a thing of the past, as more governments outlaw them and the bleachers become barer and barer, but humans will continue to chase mechanical hares. Marcus Aurelius wrote his Meditations between AD 161 and 180, and thousands of years later, we’re still facing the same challenges he did during the height of the Roman empire. But we don’t have to succumb to the same fate as others and become stuck in the spin cycle of unhappiness. We can be grateful for the good, the bad, and just being here.
