At the extreme. When you hit existential rock-bottom and life just doesn’t make sense? Who can help us here?

Well, I can think of a guy…

Albert Camus (pronounced exactly as it is not spelled) looked like he stepped out of a black-and-white noir film and into a philosophy seminar. He was a dark-roast existentialist; he felt there was no inherent meaning to life.

But Camus wasn’t about nihilism. That’s only cute when you’re 22, own a trench coat purely for aesthetic reasons, and pretend to like Joy Division.

Camus’ perspective on the seeming meaninglessness of life was much more rich and nuanced. And, believe it or not, hopeful. (There’s a reason they gave him a Nobel Prize.)

Albert Camus is the author of numerous books including The Stranger, The Plague, and The Myth of Sisyphus. And when life doesn’t give you any answers, well, he has a few.

Let’s get to it…

Embrace The Absurd. And Revolt.

Camus defines “The Absurd” as the tension between the human desire for meaning and the universe’s refusal to provide any. Meaning is not waiting for you like an unclaimed bag at a sad regional airport. It’s not included in your welcome kit at birth. The universe just shrugs and says, “lol, no.”

Not exactly cheery. Feels like the philosophical equivalent of your therapist saying, “It is what it is,” and then billing you $200. Most of Western civilization had been hoping to receive purpose in the form of a talking animal, an enchanted sword, or a booming voice that sounds like Morgan Freeman.

But hold on. That’s not everything Camus had to say; it’s just where most people stop reading. Camus didn’t say, “The universe is meaningless, therefore go back to bed and watch Netflix.” He didn’t say, “Life is absurd, so nothing matters.” What he said was: “Knowing that life is absurd is where your responsibility begins, not where it ends.”

And here’s where Camus sneaks his arm around your shoulder like a warm French uncle and whispers something you didn’t expect: none of this means you should give up. In fact, it’s the opposite. The correct response is not despair, delusion, or binge-watching Murder, She Wrote (Season 7, Episode 4 notwithstanding), but a kind of stubborn, joyful defiance he called revolt: continuing to act, love, and create despite knowing the universe does not have a customer service department.

Camus isn’t telling you that life is pointless; he’s telling you that life has no given point. The point is what you do, and how honestly you do it. Camus didn’t say there is no meaning; he said there is no meaning unless you live as if there is. You have to earn it. With action. To live so deliberately, so unapologetically in the face of The Absurd that you become your own answer.

Pursue your dreams. But not because they’re “destined” or “authentic” or “aligned with your higher self,” but because you chose them. You don’t need the universe to approve your decisions. That’s the rebellion part. Not rebellion in the sexy, HBO Max sense. Revolt, as in the daily decision to show up and act without cosmic justification.

(To learn how to overcome negative thoughts with philosophy, click here.)

So if we accept this somewhat-gloomy-somewhat-badass proposition, what’s the next step?

Experience Freedom by Accepting Responsibility

We all love the idea of freedom. Freedom from obligations, structure, and pants. That’s until we realize what it really means: you have no excuses. You can’t blame your parents. You can’t blame society. But most of us just want the freedom to choose… as long as someone else can be held accountable for the outcome.

You might think that’s freedom. Camus thinks that’s adolescence.

Real freedom is choosing, but with no promise of success, no cosmic guarantee. It’s acting as if it matters when you know it might not. And if that makes you uncomfortable, good. That means you’re paying attention. Freedom isn’t liberation from constraints; it’s what happens when you acknowledge, without excuse, that you are the sole author of your actions. Because freedom isn’t an escape from fear. It’s choosing in spite of it. It’s stepping into the uncertainty without needing to know how it ends.

“You want me to take ownership of my life? In this economy?”

You can’t have real freedom without responsibility. Period. That’s not a philosophical opinion; it’s a structural law of being a conscious human.

But you’re looking for a guarantee. A promise that if you love someone, it won’t fall apart. That if you commit to a thing, you won’t fail at it. A clean, emotionally fulfilling, closure-delivering answer. “This is the path, go this way, wear this shirt, love this person, and you’ll be fine.”

No. The universe will not explain itself to you. It is not going to slide into your DMs with a blueprint. Stop calling it “soul-searching.” You’re not looking for your soul. You’re avoiding making a decision.

Camus says true freedom comes not when you are free from all constraints, but when you realize that no one is coming to tell you who to be. No cosmic guidance counselor is going to appear. You alone choose.

Uncomfortable? Well, here’s the part where I make you even more uncomfortable: you’re already choosing. Every day. Through action, inaction, delay, avoidance, you’re voting for the life you have. What you call limbo is just an attempt to offload authorship. Camus doesn’t want you to be comfortable. He wants you to grow up.

You were put here to do something. To choose. To engage. And now you have to decide: Are you going to act? Or are you going to wait for someone else to name your life for you?

“Okay, what should I do?”

Stop waiting for clarity. Stop demanding to know the “true path.” You decide. Without perfect knowledge. And you take responsibility for that choice. That’s where freedom lives. Not in comfort. Not in security. In the quiet, terrifying space where you say: “No one told me to do this. And I’m doing it anyway because it’s important to me.”

And in that act, that full, conscious embrace of your own power, you become free.

(To learn happiness secrets from ancient philosophy, click here.)

Now some people might say, “This sounds difficult and lonely.” To which I reply:

Well, it’s not lonely…

Practice Solidarity and Empathy

You might assume absurdism means “every man for himself.” But Camus didn’t advocate selfishness. He wrote The Plague to show what solidarity looks like without cosmic justification. To show you that even when the world gives you no reason to care, you can choose to care anyway. He was issuing a dare: in a world without meaning, will you still choose to care about someone other than yourself?

You: “I just don’t have the capacity to deal with other people’s problems right now.”

Camus: “But that’s when it counts.”

Because when compassion is easy, it’s not compassion. It’s image management. Solidarity in good times is PR. Solidarity when everything’s falling apart? That’s commitment.

Embracing The Absurd is not about breaking away from others. It’s about showing up for them when the universe doesn’t give you a reason to. It’s understanding that people are walking bundles of contradiction, stupid and sublime in the same breath, and loving them anyway. You choose to connect, knowing the world might break your heart again.

There’s a scene in Camus’ novel The Plague where Dr. Rieux, the main character, is asked why he keeps helping people even though the plague is probably going to kill them all anyway. And he basically says, “Because I’m a doctor. This is what I do.” It’s not heroic. It’s not even hopeful. It’s just a choice.

That’s radical. That’s punk rock. A decision to act decently in an indecent world. And man, if that isn’t the whole gig.

The world may be absurd, but your actions aren’t. That solidarity isn’t a reward for good people; it’s how you become one. In The Plague’s setting of Oran, people die. Some are saved. The plague ends, then begins again. And all that remains is what people did. Not what they believed. Just what they did. So no, Camus isn’t telling you to give up on meaning. He’s telling you to create it with others. To push against The Absurd with every useless, beautiful act of shared humanity you’ve got. Because in an indifferent universe, compassion is the last thing that makes you real.

Camus didn’t write The Plague to scare us. He wrote it to remind us of who we are, and who we could be, when we stop waiting for a reason and start being the reason.

(To learn what ancient philosophy can teach us about living a long, awesome life, click here.)

Feeling a little less dark now? Well, here’s where Camus gives another shot of espresso to your soul…

Live with Passion

Truth is, most of us aren’t living with passion. We’re checking our phones. We’re paying bills and putting off the dentist and trying to figure out if that noise our car is making is an “expensive noise” or just an “ignore it and see what happens” noise. We are trying, very hard, not to drown in the slow leak of meaningless tasks that make up adult life.

Camus wrote about The Absurd as a challenge. When life refuses to give you meaning, you don’t give up. Camus tells us: the only way to survive the universe’s indifference is to become stubbornly, gloriously alive anyway. He wanted us to pour ourselves into everything: love, art, work, friendship, the whole messy buffet of human existence. As if, by doing so, we might flip the bird at the void and say, “You may be empty, but this sangria isn’t.”

Love someone so hard it makes your skin itch. Volunteer. Bake. Paint. Text “I miss you” even if you might not hear back. Tell your friend you love them even though you’re both emotionally stunted and bad at eye contact. Write something honest even if no one reads it but a confused stranger on the Internet.

Just pick something. Do it like it’s meaningful. Not because it cosmically is. But because you decided it is. Camus isn’t asking you to save the world. He’s asking if you’ll bother showing up to it.

Most of our lives won’t be remembered long after we’re gone. But maybe, if we’re lucky, someone will remember the way we made them laugh until they cried, or the way we kissed them in the kitchen while the pasta boiled over, or the way we cared, stupidly and stubbornly, about something that didn’t matter to anyone but us.

The moments I remember most, the ones that feel lit from within, aren’t the logical ones. They aren’t efficient or strategic. They’re messy. They’re stupid. But they’re passionate. They’re the arguments that ended in laughter, the friendships that started with confessions, the blog posts that somehow arrived at clarity through sheer stubborn intensity. So yes, let’s live with passion. Let’s love like idiots, work like maniacs, and create like children with crayons and no concern for staying inside the lines.

It’s easier, of course, to detach. To call things meaningless and retreat into irony or intellect or whatever shield we’ve built to keep the world at a distance. But nothing grows in that space. To live with passion is to risk being broken. But it’s also the only way to be whole.

(To learn the focus and productivity secrets of medieval monks, click here.)

Okay, time to round it all up and learn about the truly hopeful thing Camus had for us…

Sum Up

Here’s how to find meaning in life…

• Embrace the Absurd. And Revolt: The universe does not care about your daily Wordle streak and the search for inherent meaning can be a trap. Meaning is a verb, not a noun. Want a meaningful life? It’s a spiritual DIY project. Build it. And revolt.
• Experience Freedom by Accepting Responsibility: Answers aren’t coming. Upside: you’re free. The price? You must make the choices yourself and take responsibility for them. Yeah, I know: sounds emotionally expensive. But responsibility is the final boss battle of freedom.
• Practice Solidarity and Empathy: The fact that life doesn’t come pre-packaged with meaning is what makes our efforts to love, create, connect, and care actually matter. To be able to say, “Ideology didn’t make me care. I care because I choose to.” It’s not easy, it’s not glamorous, and it won’t make you rich (unless you figure out a way to monetize existential difficulty, in which case, please email me immediately.)
• Live with Passion: Just because inherent meaning does not exist doesn’t mean life is one long Fiona Apple ballad. You can still engage and be passionate. Do not resign yourself to the quiet fatigue of living a life you haven’t quite chosen but haven’t refused, either.

Camus once said, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

It’s the kind of thing that sounds pretentious on a throw pillow but hits different when you’re sitting alone in your living room at midnight, wondering if you’re going to be okay.

Camus’ “summer” is resilience.

No, the universe doesn’t respond to our questions. And more than that, it doesn’t even notice we’re asking. But that’s not where it ends.

Once you stop expecting answers, you can do anything. I think about that now, when I find myself slipping back into the habit of waiting. Waiting for things to resolve, for people to return, for feelings to clarify themselves into something clean. But life doesn’t work like that. People disappear without ceremony. Things end while you’re in the middle of them.

A while back, during a particularly grim stretch of what I call “my life”, I thought the lesson was detachment. I thought Camus was saying nothing matters, so don’t get too close. But I was wrong. He wasn’t asking us to step back. He was daring us to step closer. To love anyway. To create anyway.

There’s no epiphany. Just small, stubborn acts. A soft defiance. You love people who might not love you back. To be kind, even when kindness feels futile. To forgive someone who doesn’t say sorry. To write something no one will ever read, or plant something you might not live to see bloom. Because you’re free. The only meaning is the meaning we make.

Accept the responsibility. Enjoy the companionship of friends. Feel the passion in those moments that forge memories. And, if we embrace these things, it’s more than worth it. Life isn’t meaningless; it’s just a blank canvas upon which we paint.

Let’s see the world as it is: messy, indifferent, occasionally beautiful, filled with both disappointments and joys.

The Absurd doesn’t go away. But if you live with passion, you stop needing it to.

The post This Is How To Find Meaning In Life: 4 Secrets From Philosophy appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

Well, can we please talk about how insane the Apollo 11 mission was? Seriously, this was the 1960s. A time when everyone’s idea of cutting-edge technology was a television that weighed as much as a small car and a rotary phone that doubled as an upper-body workout. Seatbelts were a fun suggestion and you could still smoke in hospitals. The height of American ambition was figuring out how to put fake wood paneling on every surface imaginable.

But then a bunch of guys at NASA in horn-rimmed glasses sitting in front of massive computers with less power than your phone were like, “Okay, we’re going to build a rocket taller than the Statue of Liberty and go to the moon. You know, the one poets have been writing about for centuries, the one werewolves howl at? Yeah, we’re going to that.”

The rocket they built for this, the Saturn V, was a skyscraper with a death wish. This thing was 363 feet tall. And they filled it with enough explosive material to make Michael Bay cry tears of joy. Basically, six million pounds of “I hope this works” with an engine.

And, somehow, they pulled it off. Three people flew 240,000 miles in a tin can with the computing power of a digital watch, landed on a rock that’s literally trying to kill you, and then flew back home like it was just another day at the office.

It was the most insane, magnificent “because we can” moment in human history. How did they do something so unimaginable?

Professor Richard Wiseman studied the Apollo 11 mission and discovered a few of the secrets that led to this incredible achievement. Things that can help us accomplish big things in our own lives. His book is “Moonshot: What Landing a Man on the Moon Teaches Us About Collaboration, Creativity, and the Mindset for Success.”

Let’s get to it…

Passion

Robert Vallerand, a professor at the University of Quebec, found that doing something you’re passionate about makes people enjoy their work, allowing them to persist through difficulty. Unsurprisingly, this leads to increased productivity and success. Nobody doubts the people working on the Apollo program were passionate.

Passion gets things done. It’s what takes you from just liking something to going so deep you start writing manifestos on napkins and alienating everyone in your book club because you won’t stop talking about it.

What are you passionate about? What pushes you over the line from friends calling you “driven” to saying, “Oh God, we need to stage an intervention”? If you want a smoother pass to success, that’s a great place to start.

(To learn how to find your passion in life, click here.)

Everybody always says you need to have goals. Turns out they’re right. But what kind do we need?

Goals

You want to have “stretch goals.” Goals that are a little more ambitious that you think you can handle. Stretch goals are like adulthood’s version of a triple dog dare. They work. You know why? Because they force you into that awkward position where you really have to put in the effort…

But don’t go overboard.

The trick is to aim high, but not so high that you’re basically volunteering to be a cautionary tale. If the mere act of writing this goal down makes you laugh until you pee yourself a little, that might be too much. Researchers say the sweet spot are goals that have a 50-70% chance of success. Stretch, but don’t dislocate a shoulder, okay?

You also want what are called “SMarT goals”: specific, measurable and time constrained. John F. Kennedy didn’t say, “We should do some kinda space thing eventually.” No, he said NASA would land on the moon by the end of the decade.

Specific makes a difference. (Like if you decide you’re going to get in shape you might want to specify a shape. “Blob” is a shape, after all.) You’ll be more focused and think more clearly if you take your amorphous, comforting dreams and pin them down like a taxidermist who’s had a particularly bad day.

Then make them measurable. As the saying goes, “what gets measured gets managed.” You can’t put points on the board if there are no points and no board.

And then time-constrain them. Because if your goals don’t have a ticking clock attached, you’ll never feel the sweet, sweet pressure of potential failure looming. Yes, that feels horrible. But you also know deadlines are essential.

(To learn everything about setting the right goals for you, click here.)

Doing the same old thing gets the same old results, and that’s if you’re lucky. So we’re going to need some…

Creativity

A key aspect of being more creative is simple: don’t just go with your first idea. Keep generating.

Often your first idea is the thing most people would think of, which is the opposite of creative. It’ll be something cliché like “best thing since sliced bread.” (And who decided that sliced bread was the high watermark of human achievement? Bread is not that complicated. If you’re impressed by pre-cut bread, I have to assume you’ve never seen an iPhone or a bidet.)

What else can make you more creative? Researchers found that taking a break and coming back to your problems later leads to more creative solutions. This is what they call the “incubation effect.”

To compound it, use that time to go for a walk. Studies found that while walking, you’re 60 percent more creative than when you’re sitting at a desk like a normal, defeated human being.

And research validates the power of “sleeping on it.” Study subjects solved a problem 60% of the time after a good night’s sleep, while the people who stayed up working on it only had a 23% success rate.

(To learn how to be more creative, click here.)

To succeed, everyone says you must be optimistic.

And they are dead wrong…

Be Optimistic… Or Not?

I’ve posted tons of research on the benefits of optimism. It definitely makes us more likely to initiate projects and to persevere.

But optimism often gets oversold as essential and all you need. As if life is ruled by “The Secret,” and all we have to do is wish for a pony hard enough and BAM! Pony in the driveway.

Let’s get this straight: I have nothing against optimism. Really, I don’t. But sometimes I find it to be a lot like those advertisements for medications where they list the side effects at the end in a low whisper while showing people happily riding bicycles.

Enter the equally effective alternative: “Defensive Pessimism.” About one-third of pessimists have this thinking style, and it gives them superpowers.

Basically, defensive pessimists instinctively and consistently do something we’ve discussed before on the blog: a pre-mortem.

You sit down with your big idea and imagine every possible way it could fail. Every catastrophic scenario. Then you ask, “How do I make sure that doesn’t happen?” And you figure out how you’re going to get through each one.

Sound bleak? It’s not about being miserable; it’s about being realistic. If you plan for the worst, you’re never surprised and always ready. “Oh, the flight got canceled? Good thing I brought books, a flask of whiskey, and my noise-canceling headphones to block out the screams of the less prepared.”

(To learn how to be more optimistic, click here.)

So how do we build the confidence necessary for success?

Small Wins

The concept of “small wins” popped up time and time again when Teresa Amabile of Harvard Business School researched who would end up successful.

When we try to achieve big things, the challenges can be intimidating. But when we break things down into smaller steps, it becomes less terrifying. These mini-goals trick your brain into thinking you’re not actually attempting the impossible; you’re just doing this one tiny thing.

What makes mini-goals even better is they lead to more little moments of success. This increases confidence and motivation. And it’s no small effect. Breaking goals down into smaller steps led to increased performance 90% of the time.

(To learn how to be more motivated, click here.)

Okay, we’ve covered a lot. Time to round it all up. And then we’re going to boil your problems with achieving success down to their psychological essence. Yes, my dear, it’s gonna be tough love time…

Sum Up

These are the secrets to success:

• Passion: I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for a life of emotional room temperature.
• Goals: Set stretch goals that fall into the 50–70% “may fail, won’t die” zone. Then get SMarT: specify the thing, count the thing, date the thing, because without a deadline your plan is just a cozy fantasy in sweatpants.
• Creativity: Take a break, go for a walk, or sleep on it. (If you want advice that’s easier than that, I honestly don’t know what to tell you.)
• Be Optimistic… Or Not?: While optimism is off skipping through fields of daisies with its head in the clouds, defensive pessimism is crouched in a bunker, making a list of everything that could go wrong, and laying out a plan. And when the daisies turn out to be poison ivy, guess who’s got a tube of anti-itch cream and a smug grin?
• Small Wins: Break down your goals into bite-sized pieces and savor their completion like the tiny, calorie-free victories they are.

Okay, you’ve read a blog post about what the space program can teach you about success and now you want the emotional mint on the pillow. Pull up a chair.

You want the pep talk version? Fine: you are a unique snowflake forged in the heart of a dying star, hydrate, practice self-care, go team. There. And if that actually worked you wouldn’t be reading this. Now let’s do the other version…

Here’s a diagnosis masquerading as a compliment: you are not lazy. You are “defense-mechanism efficient.” You’ve built an elegant system of stories that keeps you from really trying. “I need a better routine.” “I need to finish researching my options.” You’ve been laundering fear through logic until it looks like prudence. This is why you research habit trackers like you’re choosing a pediatric surgeon and then neglect to open the app.

But I need to align my values first.

Your values are whatever you actually do. You don’t need clarity to start; you need a start to get clarity.

But what if I choose wrong?

You will. That’s not the tragedy; that’s the tuition. You are not a product; you are a process. Processes don’t fail; they iterate.

What if people judge me?

Oh, they will. They are already judging you for not trying.

This sounds hard.

Correct. Adults do hard things. Children post about them.

You probably think success will arrive as a feeling, like the last beat of a Super Bowl commercial where the golden retriever grows up and buys term life insurance. But discipline is remembering what you said you wanted after the feeling leaves the room.

Success is a pattern of behavior repeated under pressure until reality yields. Pick a direction and shove. You will not be “ready.” You will never be “ready.” The trick is not to chase readiness; it’s to normalize motion. You want a one liner to stitch on a pillow? Fine: The smallest finished thing outperforms the grandest intention. Less horn, more engine.

The biggest lie you can tell yourself is that you need to be a different person to start. You don’t. You need to be this person and do a different thing. People change after they keep promises to themselves. Not before. The identity comes post hoc. We don’t start projects because we want to be legends. We start them because we want, at least once, to be who we said we are. If you think identity comes first, you will end up mouthing, “I guess I’m not the kind of person who…” And that sentence is a life sentence.

Now the tender part you’ll pretend not to need but will remember at 1:11AM:

Somewhere there exists a previous version of you who bet everything that you would, someday, stop delaying. They endured your adolescence, your decade of false starts, the jobs where your soul played dead. They did their time. You owe them something. Not a Nobel prize, not an Olympic medal, not a platinum album, just one verifiable change in the physical world attributable to your choices. You owe them.

You might think that last paragraph will change your life. It won’t.

The next twenty-four hours will. Go.

The post 5 Secrets To Success From NASA’s Space Program appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

Or that if some guy calling himself the “Royal Commander of the International Refunds Bureau” asks for your PayPal login, you shouldn’t give it to him.

If a stranger texts saying, “Hello, dearest, you seem trustworthy and strong” you know that’s not how people talk. That’s how villains in telenovelas address their enemies before stealing their husbands.

You’re smart.

But you can still be conned.

Look, there are two kinds of people in the world: those who’ve never been conned, and those who don’t know they have. If you think you’re in the first group, congratulations: you’re in the second.

I know, you think scams are for people who forward chain emails and still use AOL. Surely you could never be tricked. And that makes you exactly the kind of person that con artists fantasize about when they’re drifting off to sleep on their pile of Apple gift cards.

“But I’ll see it coming. I know what con artists look like.”

WRONG. WRONG WITH EXTRA WRONG SAUCE.

Let’s be clear: real-life scammers aren’t smooth-talking gentlemen in casinos explaining the “long con” over martinis and jazz. There’s no “type.” They’re just someone who realized they could make more money impersonating a bank than working for one.

In this time of increasing uncertainty, rampant inflation, and podcasts, it is more important than ever to arm oneself against hucksterism. So who can teach us what we need to know?

Johnathan Walton got scammed out of almost $100,000 by a con artist. And when the authorities didn’t help, he launched his own investigation, leading to her arrest and conviction. Now he spends his time helping other victims get justice.

His book is “Anatomy of a Con Artist.”

We’re going to review some of the red flags to look out for. A single red flag may mean nothing. But when they reach parade level? Look out.

Let’s get to it…

“I Just Want to Help”

A stranger materializes at precisely the moment you’re most desperate and says, “Good news! I can help.” This is a red flag so large it needs its own air traffic controller.

The FBI has a term for these people: “rescue merchants.” If they were any more predatory, they’d have to register with National Geographic.

When you’re stressed, your cognitive bandwidth shrinks. You want a fix. Everything else (price, risk, who-is-this-person) gets shoved into the attic of your mind next to your high school trombone. The rescue merchant counts on that.

“I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there. That’s why I created this program. For people like us.”

That’s not empathy. That’s a sales funnel.

But you assume, “If someone wants to help me, they must be good.” No. They might just be good at appearing helpful.

Let’s be clear: this alone doesn’t mean they’re a con artist. There are decent people in the world; some of them even use turn signals. But if someone shows up at just the right time with just the right solution?

Be wary.

(To learn the scientific techniques for spotting liars, check out my book here.)

What else should we look out for?

Too Kind, Too Quick

You meet someone new. They’re so thoughtful. They remember the name of your dog (which you mentioned once), your birthday (which you didn’t), and your favorite flavor of LaCroix (which is already a sign that you’re spiritually bankrupt, but we’ll let that slide).

They immediately listen like they’re studying for a PhD in You Studies. You feel seen. Understood. Special…

Aaaaand this is what emotional fraud feels like. But don’t worry, everyone falls for it at least once. (Some of you marry it.)

Gushing kindness and generosity don’t arrive that fast. Normal people slowly dial up support over time as the relationship deepens.

If someone’s moving too quick, immediately being too nice? They’re not trying to get to know you; they’re trying to install malware in your soul.

So should you be cynical? Alone forever? No. You should be slow. You don’t need to be suspicious of kindness. You need to be suspicious of velocity. People moving that fast are disproportionately likely to leave you heartbroken, destitute, or short one kidney.

(To learn how to overcome negative thoughts, click here.)

So how do these scammers gain your trust?

TMI

You meet someone new. Nice enough. They have decent shoes and they don’t smell like wet dog food. Within the first fifteen minutes, they hit you with a deeply personal story.

Not a “I burped mid-kiss once” overshare. No. This is Olympic-level TMI, rehearsed for years, polished until it gleams, and dropped on you like an emotional anvil.

And your dumb, squishy brain goes, “Wow. They trust me with this deeply personal confession. I feel so connected.” So you blurt out your own TMI: “Sometimes I eat frosting straight out of the tub with my hand because spoons are for losers.” Or you mention that time you farted in yoga class and blamed the mat.

Suddenly you feel like old friends.

But you’re not. Oversharing creates a fast-track to intimacy. You think you’re bonding but really you’re just narrating your own downfall.

Now you’re invested. And when they ask for a little favor, you don’t hesitate. Because they trusted you. They told you about their painful childhood! Their dead hamster Mr. Fluffernuts! Who are you to say no?

Say no.

(To learn how to make emotionally intelligent friendships, click here.)

But what’s the pro-level method they use to build the trust that gets you to part with your money?

“Beak Wetting”

Shortly after meeting someone they give you something. Maybe even cash. Cool, right?

Beak Wetting (n.) – A strategic act of faux generosity by a con artist to convince you they’re not a con artist, so they can con you harder, faster, and with your blessing.

Human beings, despite millennia of evolution and several seasons of “Black Mirror”, still operate on the notion that the past predicts the future. It’s not even that irrational, to be fair.

If someone’s been nice to you five days in a row, you assume day six isn’t going to involve them pushing you into a hedge and stealing your shoes. It’s the same logic that tells you fire is hot and clowns are terrifying.

Con artists know this. So when they give you a bit of money, “Aha!” you think. “If they were trying to scam me, why would they give me money?”

Which is adorable. Because they’re not giving you money; they’re buying your trust at a discount. It’s not generosity. It’s investment. And they are so ready for the return.

(To learn how to have a resilient family, click here.)

But how do they sustain the ruse and bleed you for more?

Drama, Drama, Drama

Suddenly, everything in their life is on fire. A full-blown, multi-act catastrophe.

They’re always the victim. They’ve been betrayed, backstabbed, and wronged more times than a soap opera character. Ex-business partners? Evil. The bank? Mistaken. Their last three landlords? Jealous, probably aliens.

They’ll need a ride. A favor. And they need money. Because of course they do.

At this point, you’re not making decisions logically. You’re making decisions in defense of the story you’ve been sold: that you’re the special one. You’re the chosen confidant of this broken angel who trusts no one else.

But, no, you are not in a heroic epic saga. You’re in a slow-motion heist movie and you’re the vault. Drama is how the con artist keeps your cognitive load too high to question anything. It generates sympathy, urgency and monopolizes your attention.

Look, bad things happen. But if a person’s life is an uninterrupted drumbeat of misfortune, punctuated by elaborate excuses, obscure enemies, and emotional cliffhangers, you are likely not witnessing the tragic opera of a doomed romantic.

You are watching a production, and your role is “Gullible Mark #14.”

(To learn the 6 secrets from neuroscience that will make you productive, click here.)

So what helps them seal the deal?

Scarcity

“Only 2 left in stock!” Amazon screams, even though you know Jeff Bezos didn’t build a trillion-dollar empire by running out of wireless earbuds on a Tuesday. It’s a standard part of marketing but it’s also a key weapon in the con artist’s arsenal.

Scarcity turns off your brain and flips on your internal panic ferret, that part of you that runs in circles and screams, “IF I DON’T DO THIS NOW I’LL BE POOR, SAD, AND LIVING IN A VAN EATING UNSALTED SALTINES!”

Urgency is the anesthesia they use to operate on your bank account. That ticking-clock, this-deal-dies-tonight, act-now-or-cry-later vibe slithers right under your logical defenses like a Trojan horse made of pure, concentrated FOMO.

Now scarcity by itself doesn’t mean something is a scam. But every time someone says “You’ve gotta do it now,” your bowels should clench a little.

(To learn the secret to losing weight, click here.)

But surely if you were being taken in by a scam one of your friends would say something, right? Con artists have an angle for that as well…

Isolation

“Let’s keep this between us.” Translation: “This will fall apart under basic scrutiny.”

“Don’t tell your accountant.” Translation: “Your accountant can read.”

“You’re the only one who truly gets this.” Translation: “You’re the only one here.”

Your skeptical friends? Oh, they’re “dream-killers,” apparently. Negative energy. Not “aligned.” The scammer will tell you not to talk to your lawyer, your partner, or that friend from high school who once read a book.

It feels cinematic to be invited into something mysterious that the Normals wouldn’t understand. It feels like intimacy, like trust. Scammers make you feel chosen. “You and me, against the world.” Which sounds cool until you realize that “against the world” actually means “against common sense and your checking account balance.”

And soon you will find yourself very much alone, in the dark, Googling “how to sell plasma fast.”

This is Con Artist 101: separate the mark from the herd. They need you in a vacuum where their nonsense doesn’t echo against anything harder than your own desperate hope.

But if this “opportunity” can’t survive the light of a group text, it will not survive tax season. Scammers are vampires: they can only survive in the dark, and the second you open the blinds, poof, it’s just some loser in a cape hissing in your kitchen.

If this “friend” discourages a second opinion, bring a third and a fourth. Set up bleachers. Sell popcorn. Because the one thing a scam can’t survive is sunlight. And sunlight, unfortunately, often comes in the form of a real friend saying: “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Which, it turns out, is the kindest thing anyone can say to you. You just saved yourself from becoming the cautionary tale your family tells at holidays.

(To learn how to stop procrastinating, click here.)

And what’s the final, ironclad red flag?

Wires

Here’s a basic rule of human survival, on par with “don’t pet the grizzly”:

Never. Send. Wires.

Why do con artists love bank wires, you ask? They’re instantaneous in the way hangovers aren’t. The moment you hit “send,” your money is gone. Not “pending,” not “reversible upon complaint.” No. Your cash has fled the country, changed its name, and is currently dating someone much hotter than you in Monaco.

Johnathan writes, “In nearly every con artist case that I have investigated, when a large sum of money changed hands, it was usually through a bank wire.”

Yeah, yeah, there are some real-world, legitimate uses for wiring money, sure. If you’re buying a house, a yacht, or bribing FIFA officials, you might have to wire funds. But for the rest of us? A wire means you’re being scammed.

(To learn how to have a happy retirement, click here.)

Okay, we’ve learned a lot. Time to round it up and learn the deep-seated reason we fall for this malarkey…

Sum Up

Here’s how to avoid being scammed…

• “I’m here to help”: If help arrives too perfectly timed, it’s not fate; it’s choreography.
• Too Kind, Too Fast: No one is that nice that fast unless they’re a Labrador or lying. Grifters rush the relationship like they’re trying to make a connecting flight.
• TMI: They get close to you not by earning your trust, but by creating the illusion that they’ve already given you theirs.
• Beak Wetting: “He gave me money; therefore, he must be trustworthy.” (You don’t even need that second half of the sentence. Your subconscious just fills it in.)
• Drama, Drama, Drama: Life happens. Real, arbitrary, tragic stuff. But when one person seems to be the eye of every existential hurricane, it’s not bad luck. It’s bad fiction.
• Scarcity: “If you build it, they will come. If you say it’s about to disappear, they’ll trample each other.” – Field of Dreams (Alternate Director’s Cut)
• Isolation: If you were buying a used car and the salesman said, “Whatever you do, don’t talk to your mechanic,” you’d assume the engine was made of papier-mâché and walnuts.
• Wires: Wires are for lamps. (And if you ignore this and still send a wire? Don’t worry. At least you’ll have a great story for the support group you’ll join later.)

You’re not vulnerable because you’re stupid. You’re vulnerable because you’re hopeful. Desperate. Or, worse, entitled. The con artist’s greatest asset is your hunger.

A con is a consensual hallucination between a liar and someone desperate to believe the lie.

You’re not a victim of a con artist. You’re a consumer.

A scam only works if it tells you something you want to hear. Not something true, not something real, just something emotionally plausible. That you’re important. That you deserve better. That your life is about to change and all you have to do is act right now. The con artist doesn’t manufacture that longing; they harvest it.

People don’t respond to a Nigerian prince email offering $14 million because it makes sense. They respond because they want to believe that the universe might randomly hand them wealth as compensation for having endured all the indignities of life. They’re not clicking the link because they think it’s smart; they’re clicking it because they think it’s deserved.

And the moment you believe you’re immune is the moment the door swings open. Because it’s not just about being vigilant. It’s about being honest: with yourself. Avoiding con artists isn’t about memorizing signs. It’s about recognizing yourself in the con.

You think conning is about lying. It isn’t. Lying is a teenager’s trick. Conning is about giving you permission to believe what you already want to be true.

So the only real defense isn’t spam filters or security questions. It’s self-awareness. When something feels like the exact thing you’ve been waiting for your entire life… it probably isn’t. It’s usually just a mirror, showing you what you want to see.

Know what story you’re already telling yourself, because that’s the one they’ll hijack.

The post This Is How To Avoid Being Scammed: 8 Secrets From Experts appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

But relationships matter. Like, life-and-death matter. As I wrote about in my second book: the size and quality of your relationships either equals or exceeds almost all the other factors in determining your mortality.

So, yes, to live longer, you must endure all the joys of small talk, awkward hugs, and pretending to care about Karen’s new essential oils business. Every time you endure Uncle George’s conspiracy theories, you’re basically adding another year to your life.

And beyond health and longevity, your relationships are also responsible for a disproportionate amount of your happiness. To thrive, we need friends. Real friends. I’m talking about those deep connections where you can let your freak flag fly without fear of judgment. The kind of friends who won’t judge you for that weird noise you make when you laugh or the fact that you still know all the words to every Spice Girls song.

So how do we get the process of making friends to be less painful and awkward?

Well, we’re going to get some science-based answers from David Robson’s wonderful book “The Laws of Connection.”

Let’s get to it…

They Like You More Than You Think

“What if they don’t like me?”

Believe it or not, this concern is so common they have a term for it in social science: “The Liking Gap.”

They’ve found it again and again in all manner of studies whenever subjects had to talk to strangers. Guess what? In nearly every single case, people’s fears were found to be “vastly overblown.”

Trust that others, on average, will like you as much as you like them. Science says so.

Yeah, I know, you’re still nervous you’re going to do something stupid and be disliked. You don’t need to worry. In one experiment, hapless volunteers were shoved through the “Trier Social Stress Test.” This is a grim triathlon of public speaking, a pretend job interview, and surprise mental arithmetic. It’s designed to make subjects as stressed as possible.

The twist? After it was over, independent judges actually preferred the people who were more nervous.

You’re probably not going to embarrass yourself when meeting someone new and even if you do, it usually just makes them like you more.

(To learn the secrets to having a resilient family, click here.)

But what should you actually say to people?

What To Talk About

You want to impress them. You figure you’ll tell them that cool story about that wild trip you went on or that unique experience where…

No. Stop. Don’t.

You’re about to fall into a trap that researchers call “the novelty penalty.” Most people can’t relate to your most exceptional stories. By definition, exceptional is not all that relatable. You might as well be telling them you met a wizard in a forest, and he gave you a prophecy.

It’s safer to talk about familiar topics so people have an easier time connecting with you.

Another common mistake is following the advice that we should “take the other person’s perspective.” Don’t do this. Unless you’re Professor X, you’re just going to be making assumptions. Forget “perspective taking” and, instead, try “perspective getting.”

How do you do that? Easy. Ask more questions. This is something that has been shown again and again to increase liking. We all enjoy people who are curious about us.

Now what kind of questions, you ask? Some types are definitely better than others:

• “Introductory questions” are essential, sure, but nobody’s thrilled about them. “So, where are you from?” “What do you do?” These are the bland rice cakes of conversation; necessary when there’s nothing else, but hardly anyone’s first choice.
• Also avoid “switch questions.” It’s when your questions change the topic of discussion midstream. Nobody enjoys this. It creates conversational whiplash.
• And definitely don’t engage in “boomerasking.” This is when you pose a question that’s a thinly veiled excuse to talk about yourself. Studies show people can tell and will find you distinctly unlikeable.

So what questions really help?

“Follow up questions” reign supreme. A good follow-up question is like conversational WD-40. A well-placed, “So how did that make you feel?” can work wonders.

Oh, one more very important thing: somewhere along the line, we’ve all heard that constant eye contact was a sign of interest.

No, it’s not. It’s terrifying. Real humans blink. Real humans look away occasionally. If you’re locked in a perpetual stare, the person you’re talking to isn’t thinking, “Wow, they’re so attentive.” They’re thinking, “Is this how I die?”

Don’t gawk like a weirdo. And for the love of all that is holy, blink.

(To learn how to have a happy marriage, click here.)

Now your mom probably told you interrupting people is rude. That’s usually true. But not always…

Interrupt People — Sometimes

You’re clicking. You’re both nodding so furiously it looks like you’re at a Metallica concert. If you’re in the middle of one of those magical, mind-meld conversations, and you feel that familiar itch to interrupt?

Go for it. Give them an “Exactly!” or even a “That’s what I was thinking!”

This shows that you’re not just listening, you’re invested. In these cases, a gentle interjection isn’t an interruption; it’s a high-five for the mind.

Similarly, Daniel McFarland of Stanford University found that when interruptions were “collaborative completions” they were welcome and increased liking. Interrupting was a positive when you’re helping someone articulate an idea they’re struggling to convey.

Now let me be clear: there is definitely a wrong way to interrupt. There’s a big difference between, “Oh my god, YES, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” and “Cool story, but let me tell you about the time I did something better…” The latter is just being a conversational predator.

Don’t be that person. We all know that person. We hate that person.

(To learn how to be an amazing parent, click here.)

Oh, and while we’re on the topic of things not to do…

Don’t Humblebrag

Let’s just agree on one thing right now: humblebragging makes you look like a tool.

In fact, studies show that humblebragging makes you seem less sincere than if you just bragged outright. It’s like you want credit for being successful but you also want bonus points for pretending it doesn’t matter to you. It clearly does, because you just shoved it in our faces wrapped in a sad tortilla of fake modesty.

Now there is another side to this: with close friends, don’t hold back on mentioning achievements you’re proud of. Nobody likes finding out months later that you started a new job or got engaged and didn’t say a word. That creates distance.

In fact, nearly all studies in this area have shown it’s better to mention accomplishments to friends than to hide them, as long as you’re tactful and don’t directly compare yourself to others. Sharing the things you’re excited about increases closeness for both of you.

But don’t humblebrag. After all, that’s what LinkedIn is for.

(To learn the secrets from neuroscience that will help you lose weight, click here.)

You knew it was coming. Yeah, it’s time for the “V” word…

Vulnerability

When meeting someone new, a little bit of self-disclosure is great for building rapport. And research shows people are more interested in your inner thoughts than you might guess.

The real issue is that vulnerability is terrifying. It’s profoundly awkward to open the Pandora’s box of your neuroses and hope the other person doesn’t immediately flee to the nearest exit.

But just like with that Trier Social Stress Test study, it turns out people like you more when you’re a little awkward. Social scientists refer to it as “the beautiful mess effect.” When given essays where people discussed their strengths, subjects rated the person, on average, as a 3.8. But when the essays were folks being vulnerable, the average rating shot up to 4.3.

Why? Because you’re real. You’re not hiding behind a façade of perfection. When you discuss your weaknesses and fears people perceive you as more honest and sincere.

So let the cracks show a little. Tell me how you accidentally threw your phone in the dishwasher because you weren’t paying attention. That’s relatable. That’s what brings us closer.

Now, of course, nobody enjoys being stuck in TMI territory either. So go slow with the vulnerability. You want to be relatable but not horrifying. “I love dogs” is a great start. “I love dogs so much I once ate dog food to see if it was good” is not. Begin with the mundane and ease them into your crazy.

(To learn how to stop procrastinating, click here.)

Okay, you’re past the introductory friendship stage. Time to deepen things…

Create A Shared Reality

Feelings of shared reality predict both quick rapport and long-term connection. It’s that click that happens when you realize someone experiences the world just like you do.

You know the vibe. When the waiter asks if you’d like to see the dessert menu, and your new friend gives you that tiny flicker of recognition because they, too, understand that no, we absolutely do not need dessert, but yes, we’re getting it anyway. That’s the kind of connection that outlasts most mortgages.

So what builds shared reality? Shared challenges.

Numerous studies have found that challenging activities make people feel closer. No, that doesn’t mean you have to climb Mount Kilimanjaro or go to war together. It can be much smaller, simpler challenges.

One study had two strangers eat hot chili peppers together while a second pair both ate candy. And these peppers were not the mild, you-might-survive-these kind. These were the type that should come with a waiver.

You guessed it; the pepper eaters felt closer afterward. That’s all it took.

Might seem small but when you and a stranger both bite into a chili pepper and feel like you’ve swallowed a thousand tiny, angry suns, you’re bound together in a way that polite conversation over a bowl of M&Ms can never achieve. You didn’t just share food; you shared an ordeal.

(To learn how to have an amazing relationship, click here.)

Alright, we’ve covered a lot. Time to round it all up and learn the easiest thing that creates connection…

Sum Up

Here’s how to make emotionally intelligent friendships…

• They Like You More Than You Think: Nine times out of ten, people are too busy starring in their own personal cringe comedy to care about your bit part. They might remember your mishaps for a hot minute, but they’re not keeping a record to pull out at your wedding toast.
• What To Talk About: You tell a unique, exceptional story. You can almost see the gears grinding to a halt as they try to place this foreign object in their mental furniture of understanding. Suddenly, you’re the weirdo who’s disrupting their mental feng shui. Instead, be relatable.
• Sometimes Interrupting Is The Smart Move: If it’s in support of what the other person is saying, go for it. It shows you and your conversational partner are so in sync, you might as well be operating a two-person mech suit.
• Don’t Humblebrag: If you’re going to brag, own it. “I got a new job, and I’m thrilled!” See? Easy. And friends will be happy for you. Why complicate it with, “Now I have to deal with a longer commute, ugh.” Do you want sympathy or applause? Pick a lane.
• Vulnerability: It’s okay to be the social equivalent of comfort food: messy, but relatable. That said, start slow. If you come out of the gate with, “I collect toenail clippings from historical figures,” people are going to call security.
• Create A Shared Reality: And that happens by facing challenges together. Even if the challenges are just eating chili peppers.

So what’s the simplest way to build connection? Pay them a sincere compliment.

People enjoy being told nice things about themselves. Groundbreaking, I know, but studies show we consistently underestimate how good compliments make other people feel and overestimate how awkward it might make things.

You think you’re going to say something nice and the person’s going to look at you like you just asked if you could borrow their toothbrush. Unlikely. In fact, you probably just made their day.

And what’s the secret to good compliments? It’s not enough to just say, “Hey, you’re smart.” No, no, no. You need to go deeper. You need to be specific, like you’ve been secretly observing them from the bushes for months.

At one point you received one of those compliments that felt like someone reached down into your soul and shook hands with your inner child. Nothing feels better. So pay attention. And say something that shows you’ve been paying attention.

Go ahead. Compliment someone today. Seriously, why are we so stingy with our praise? We act like there’s some kind of national compliment reserve and if we tap into it too often, we’ll cause an international shortage.

Compliments are free. And they can make someone’s day a thousand times better. Sprinkle them around like you’re a fairy godmother on a bender.

Oh, by the way, your ability to finish blog posts is just incredible. Seriously. I’m very impressed…

The post How To Make Emotionally Intelligent Friendships: 7 Secrets From Research appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

You’d think we’d have figured out by now how to not be held hostage by a rogue’s gallery of feelings that behave like the cast of a badly written soap opera trapped inside your skull. Emotions are like a chaotic group chat and you’re just trying to mute it without accidentally blocking your own capacity for joy.

But here’s the really annoying thing: emotions aren’t just intrusive thoughts pretending to be important. They matter. They’re useful. They’re not just evolutionary mistakes, like wisdom teeth or reality TV. They’re how we know something is wrong. They’re like those annoying, blinking dashboard lights in your car that you ignore until the engine explodes. For instance:

• Anxiety, the TSA of the psyche. Feels like emotional hypochondria. But it also means you care about something. Like your job, your friends, your family.
• Anger is rarely productive and mostly just cardio for your adrenal glands. But sometimes it helps you draw a boundary you didn’t know you needed.
• Even guilt is just your conscience knocking, saying, “Try and be less of a jerk in the future, alright?”

Now it would be nice if they all had an off switch. I know, I know: shifting your emotions on command sounds about as realistic as trying to shift the weather by thinking really hard about the sun…

But it can be done. And we’re about to learn how.

Ethan Kross is a professor of psychology at the University of Michigan. His book is “Shift: Managing Your Emotions So They Don’t Manage You.”

Let’s get to it…

Sensation

Sensations are a quick, easy, effective way to change your mood.

I’m talking about music. About movement. About the minor miracle of biting into something that tastes like happiness compressed into carbohydrate form. About chasing a dog around a room until it turns into a yelping, tail-wagging symbol of joy. (Dogs are furry antidepressants with tongues.)

So simple… What’s the catch?

And that brings us to the real issue: cost. Because sensation, like every tool, can be misused. Eating three donuts every time your boss sends a passive-aggressive email? That’s less comfort and more cardiology. Drinking a glass of wine after a difficult day is fine; drinking until your memories develop a skip-function is less so. The danger lies not in sensation itself, but in our inability (or refusal) to consider its consequences.

There is a middle path here, paved not with enlightenment but with pragmatism: choose sensations with low overhead.

Now some will say sensation is a cheap trick. It’s shallow. Honestly, if distracting yourself with pleasurable things is “shallow,” then slap a snorkel on me and toss me in the kiddie pool. You’re not weak for wanting to feel good; you’re smart. You’re emotionally literate enough to understand that sometimes, healing isn’t a journey. It’s a dance break.

Sensation, for all its simplicity, works better than most of what’s in your coping toolbox because it reminds you that there’s more to life than the story playing in your head. There’s rhythm. There’s sweetness. There’s warmth and fur and basslines and ice cream. There’s a world outside your brain. And sometimes the best way to find it is to stop thinking and just feel something else.

(To learn more about the neuroscience of emotions, click here.)

Unfortunately, we can’t always blast music or play fetch with Fido. What else works?

Self-Talk

Formally, it’s called “distanced self-talk”, and it’s stupidly effective and simple.

Speak to yourself in the third person. Really. That’s it. You’ll sound crazy but, ironically, this is the path back to sanity.

When we talk to ourselves in the first person, we’re like journalists embedded too deep in the war zone of our own heads. There’s no objectivity.

But third person? Third person is an editorial. A narrative overlay. It implies structure. And with structure comes the glimmer of control. It allows the brain to shift from immersed to observant, from Hamlet to Harold Bloom, from “I AM PAIN” to “Let us examine the construct of this suffering.”

Instead of thinking “I’m losing it,” you say, “Charlie is losing it.” See what you did there? You just transformed from the sweaty protagonist of a bad indie drama into a detached narrator. It’s a cognitive sleight of hand. It sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous. But it’s also scientifically sound.

It’s the same suffering, but now with a higher vantage point and a lifeline to objectivity. Think of distanced self-talk as emotional outsourcing. That tiny grammatical shift creates just enough room to wedge in a little logic. Maybe even some compassion, if you angle it sideways.

(For more on using distanced self-talk, click here.)

Talking to yourself in the third person too crazy for you? No problem. We’ve got something even crazier…

Time Travel

Time travel lets you escape the tyranny of now. Because, emotionally, now is LOUD. Now is all CAPS LOCK.

Of course, I’m not talking about hopping in a DeLorean or stepping through a wormhole. I’m talking about the low-rent, DIY kind of time travel. The kind you do in your own head, when you’re trying to keep yourself from losing your grip on reality over life’s latest tragedy.

Let’s start with traveling to the past, shall we? It’s you, asking yourself, “Haven’t I felt like this before?”

Yes, you have felt like this before. Many, many times as a matter of fact. And back then you were sure you’d never recover. But here you are: employed, sporadically showered, and not in a cave. You survived it. And you’ll survive this too.

There’s a particularly grim solace in looking back on your own emotional track record and realizing how often you’ve been wrong about the permanence of your distress. You thought it would always feel like that. After the breakup. The job rejection. These were terminal conditions. And yet, time, indifferent and miraculous, kept moving.

Time traveling to the past is a reminder that you are not new to pain. You’re not some ingenue in the opera of suffering. You are a seasoned veteran of the human condition.

You can also shoot forward to the future. Future-travel is asking the brutally sobering question: “Will this matter in a week? A month? A year?”

Almost always, the answer is a resounding “No.” Future-you doesn’t even remember what set you off today. (98% of my emotional freak-outs have an expiration date of, like, 48 hours. Tops.)

Why is mental time travel so powerful? It introduces scale. You stop catastrophizing because you remember that you’ve been here before and it was fine. You stop spiraling because future-you won’t even remember this moment unless you choose to tell it as a funny story.

(For more on using time travel to increase happiness, click here.)

Shifting your emotions doesn’t always have to come from inside your head. Sometimes the secret is all around you…

Environment

Maybe you can’t think your way out of an emotional rut, but you can trick yourself out of it by changing your environment.

Ever wonder why you suddenly feel more alive in a hotel room? Or why the same to-do list feels impossible in your home, but borderline inspirational when you’re sitting in a mediocre café?

There’s this thing called “state-dependent memory.” Your brain recalls memories better when you’re in the same physiological or emotional state you were in when they happened. Translation? The place you panic in becomes the place you panic best. So congratulations: your living room is a trauma amplifier.

But changing your environment interrupts the script. It also does two other great things:

• It resets your sensory field. Your body gets new data. Sunlight, space, a breeze, not the same recycled air of your shame bunker.
• It creates the illusion of agency. You moved, you did something, therefore you’re not totally helpless. (It’s fake, but fake can work.)

Go around your home and design spaces for focus, rest, or creativity. These are not merely aesthetic choices. They’re psychological war tactics. You are fighting yourself, and your enemy lives in your habits. Stack the terrain in your favor. Arrange the space to foster the emotion you want to feel there.

And do this in advance. Emotional architecture has to be preemptive, not reactive.

Here’s a radical idea: stop making your environment reflect who you are and start making it reflect who you’re trying to become.

(To learn the 6 secrets to dealing with negative thoughts, click here.)

Okay, we’ve done plenty of shifting. Let’s round it all up and learn the most powerful way to change your emotions. And how we usually do it wrong…

Sum Up

Here’s how to increase emotional intelligence…

• Sensation: The song, the walk, the mango, the dog. They bring you back to your body, back to the moment, back to a baseline of sanity.
• Self-Talk: Speak to yourself in the third person. That’s right: just like Elmo or The Rock. (Whichever you find more relatable.)
• Time Travel: Next time you’re emotionally constipated and ready to Hulk-smash the universe over something that won’t matter next Tuesday, hop in your mental TARDIS. Glance backward for proof you’ve survived worse. Peer forward for proof this is nothing. Either way, it beats stewing in the molten idiocy of the present.
• Environment: You feel stuck? You’re not stuck. You’re surrounded. Your environment is not neutral. It is a psychological co-conspirator.

And the final technique?

Human contact. Yes, that terrifying thing where you talk to someone. Not text. Talk. With your actual voice hole.

Problem is, when our emotions get the best of us, we usually choose the wrong people to talk to.

We often pick the Listener Zombies. Those sweet, well-meaning souls who nod and murmur “Oh no, that’s awful!” They’re lovely. They’re calming. And they leave you exactly where they found you: emotionally stuck in a cul-de-sac with no exit.

Or worse, we pick the Advice Tyrants. You know, the ones who leap in with solutions before you’ve even finished your sentence. These folks are allergic to ambiguity in a way that should be studied by neuroscientists and possibly the Pentagon. They don’t want to understand your feelings; they want to terminate them.

So what kind of friend do you need? The Dual-Wielding Emotional Ninja. The friend who can listen, let you ugly cry and do your full HBO drama arc, and then help you reframe it without making you feel like a failure. They don’t jump in too early with “solutions,” but they also don’t leave you stewing in your own rage-brine until you pickle.

They validate and offer perspective. These types are your emotional Avengers. Assemble them. Cherish them. Make a list of the people in your life who can do this for you. Yes, an actual list, just like emergency contacts.

Sensation, self-talk, time travel, environment and talking with people. They can all help. And you should give each a shot. Emotional distress is not a one-size-fits-all situation. You need a whole toolbox. One of those ridiculous, overstuffed, black toolboxes with everything from tiny screwdrivers to whatever that weird hooky thing is for.

Because human emotion is not user-friendly. It’s a 1978 Chrysler LeBaron with three flat tires, and a cassette deck permanently jammed with an old mixtape from your worst breakup. But having a range of options gives you something to fall back on besides crying in the fetal position while watching a third consecutive season of a reality show where rich people yell about countertops.

Because sometimes the tiniest thing works. Sometimes one little strategy is enough to shift the vibe. And that’s all it needs to do. Just keep you afloat. It’s not about mastery. It’s about margin. Breathing room.

Enough to get to tomorrow. Enough to remember that maybe that mixtape isn’t all heartbreak songs. There’s a good one in there too. Track seven, probably. Right after the part where it clicks, hums, and then plays a few bars of something unexpectedly beautiful.

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