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Arthur C. BrooksA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Brooks says that spiritual longing begins in middle age for many people. Often those who are skeptical in young adulthood find themselves more open to faith and spirituality as they age. In part this is due to life experience: As people learn that life is not neat and tidy, but ambiguous and mysterious, they accept ambiguity in religion as well. What may not have made sense about faith in their younger years now becomes a basis for grappling with questions instead of looking for answers. Research points to not only more satisfaction but better physical health for people who identify as religious or spiritual. This may be due to the benefits of increased socialization, but Brooks suspects the focus outside the self might also come into play.
Brooks recounts a trip he took in 2018 to India, a country he has long been interested in. He had heard about a philosophy regarding the stages of life that Indians call the ashramas, but he could not find out much information. The best way to learn more was to travel to India in person and meet with a teacher, which he did.
The teacher told him there were four stages to life, beginning with the early years of learning. After that, one begins a family, starts a career, and earns money. The third stage, called vanaprastha, occurs in middle age and involves a turning away from career toward spirituality. A final stage entails a full engagement with spiritual matters, which is spent praying and studying scriptures. People often have a hard time leaving their worldly success and entering the third stage, but Brooks says this is necessary as vanaprastha is “the metaphysical context of the second curve” (150).
For strivers, developing a spiritual side is hard. One reason is what Brooks calls the “Nicodemus syndrome.” In the Bible, Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a religious group opposed to the teachings of Jesus. Nicodemus was drawn to these teachings and snuck out at night in secret to study them, becoming devoted to Christianity over time.
When the spiritual urge comes late in life, it conflicts with the identity one has formed of oneself. People see religion in the simplistic terms and myths they learned as children, and are reluctant to give it a second chance. It takes a lot of time and a strong commitment to foster spirituality, which not everyone is willing to undertake.
To overcome these barriers, Brooks recommends taking a long walk on a pilgrimage route like the Camino de Santiago in Spain. He has done this and finds the time alone perfect for contemplation, almost like meditation. It allows one to focus on what’s important and find gratitude for what one has.
Brooks writes that he thought of omitting this chapter, since religion and spirituality can be touchy subjects, but in the end wanted to share his experience in a transparent way.
This chapter is about finding strength in weakness. Brooks begins with the story of Saul from the Bible, who later became known as Saint Paul. Paul wrote in a letter: “I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me” (172). People have long debated what he meant by that. One recent article suggests that he had epilepsy, which could explain how, according to the Bible, he was struck by a flash of light on the road to Damascus, followed by temporary blindness. In the same letter, Paul wrote that this thorn—his weakness—was in fact his strength.
Brooks acknowledges that this concept is especially hard for high achievers to accept given that they have spent their lives trying to be strong under any circumstance. Strong connections can be forged through weakness, Brooks says. A friend of Brooks’s was a successful therapist who loved his job. He had diabetes, which led to blindness, and he cursed what he viewed as his bad fortune. He was unable to find a way to continue, until a famous person who wanted counseling sought him out because he was blind, to ensure anonymity. Eventually, Brooks’s friend shifted his practice to help others like her, continuing to thrive in doing what he loved. It only required letting down his guard.
Brooks experienced this himself when he defended nontraditional education, writing in the New York Times about his unconventional background and path to success. The outpouring of support he received was unexpected since his profession was full of people from elite backgrounds.
Even suffering can bring meaning to life. Examples Brooks gives are the talk show host Stephen Colbert, Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, and the composer Ludwig von Beethoven.
Colbert’s father and two brothers were killed in a plane crash when Colbert was 10 years old. A searing event, it made Colbert grateful for the gift of life.
Frankl wrote that in suffering, a “unique opportunity lies in the way” (180).
Beethoven started going deaf when he was around 30. As the premier pianist of his time, Beethoven raged against it and continued trying to play. Later, he turned to composing and wrote his greatest works late in life when he was completely deaf. Brooks argues that Beethoven’s deafness made his work unique, as it was formed completely in his own head. While his earlier works were slightly derivative, his later work changed music forever, helping to usher in the Romantic Era.
This chapter begins with another personal anecdote, this time from the author’s childhood. Brooks tells how he was fishing alone along the seashore when an old fisherman came along. Brooks hadn’t had any luck—not even a bite—as he didn’t understand how ocean fishing worked. The fisherman told Brooks to wait until the falling tide, when the tide starts to recede.
Brooks was confused: He thought all the fish would be going out with the tide. The fisherman explained that the changing tide stirs up a lot of the smaller organisms that fish eat; timed correctly, the fish will be striking at everything that moves. Brooks and the fisherman waited for the falling tide and had great success.
Brooks explores making the jump to the second curve. Psychologists call transitions in midlife “liminality,” when one is “between work roles, organizations, career paths, and relationship stages” (191). They are fairly common; researcher Bruce Feiler found that personal transitions occur on average every 18 months. These tend to affect people more than world-changing events like the 9/11 terrorist attacks.
Life’s impermanence has been noted for millennia, yet people continue to be unprepared. When change occurs, it may be painful, but over time positive aspects are usually remembered more. The idea that suffering and creativity are related is a persistent one, Brooks says, and there seems to be some truth to it.
Midlife transitions have long been referred to as a “midlife crisis,” a term coined in the 1960s and popularized a decade later in the book Passages by Gail Sheehy. Brooks argues that such transitions don’t need to be a crisis. For example, the Roman leader Cincinnatus voluntarily gave up power and transitioned into retirement, something unheard of at the time.
Brooks looks to his own father and grandfather for other positive examples. At the age of 49, Brooks’s grandfather moved his family from New Mexico to Chicago. He worked a series of jobs at his alma mater, eventually becoming dean. There was no unhappiness or erratic behavior involved; it was just something he felt a need to do. Similarly, Brooks’s father was a successful math professor at a university but felt himself falling behind his colleagues because he only had a master’s degree. In middle age, he went back to school for his doctorate in a new field.
Brooks ends with four lessons for taking the plunge in midlife and moving to the second curve. The first is to identify what it is one really wants to come next, as it will likely involve some sacrifice. Second, the work itself must be the reward, rather than a means to an end. Third is doing the most interesting thing one can.
There are two kinds of happiness, hedonia and eudaimonia. The former is pure joy while the latter is meaning. They tend to support each other; Brooks identifies the point at which they intersect as the quality of being “interesting.” Finally, a career change often involves zigs and zags; one should prepare not to follow a straight line. Brooks recommends not overthinking the transition and making the jump.
The short Conclusion provides a seven-word summary of the book: “Use things. Love people. Worship the divine” (215). Brooks stresses that material goods are not bad per se, but the love of them is. Material things are tools to be used to help humanity, but love should be reserved solely for people. Loving things leads to frustration and dissatisfaction; loving people brings happiness.
Brooks ends by referring to the man on the plane in the anecdote that began the book. He says he will never reveal the man’s identity, but he thanks him for setting him on the journey that led to researching the phenomenon of decline, which led to Brooks quitting his job and changing course in life, which in turn led to this book and sharing these ideas with others.
This last set of chapters introduces The Importance of Spirituality. Chapter 7 is perhaps Brooks’s most personal. He discusses at length the trip he made to India, his and his wife’s respective journeys in their Catholic faith, and his pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago in Spain. In each case, he makes it clear that he’s not trying to force his beliefs or particular methods on anyone, as spirituality is personal and unique to each individual. Instead, he wants to share an authentic story in detail, while always looking for the larger lessons, free of doctrine, which could apply to anyone’s life.
The evidence of spirituality’s benefits is not just anecdotal, Brooks says. As in earlier chapters, he combines personal anecdotes with empirical evidence, and refers to studies that show that spirituality makes people happier and physically healthier.
Weakness in some form is inevitable, Brooks says, especially as one ages. Accepting weakness not only helps us connect with others but to relax and dispense with defensiveness. When examining the figure of Saint Paul, the focus is squarely on Paul’s reaction to weakness rather than anything religious.
Accepting weakness is a hard ask for the strivers Brooks is writing for, as they usually see weakness as something to be avoided at all costs. Brooks promises them freedom from the draining task of maintaining a façade. Brooks’s anecdote about his friend who revamped his psychology practice after going blind is an example of creating a silver lining from something one might view as a disadvantage.
In Brooks’s fisherman anecdote, the tide is a metaphor. Though the tide is falling, it is also ripe with fish. It represents the period in middle age just before the onset of mental decline, as Brooks defines it. This time can be chaotic but also fertile, a time to reap rewards before it’s too late. Brooks is trying to inspire readers to get off the curve relying on fluid intelligence and onto the second curve of crystallized intelligence.
Challenges to Brooks’s argument—that in the later years, one should focus on spirituality and not work—are privilege and wealth inequity. Many people do not have the means to stop working and focus on spirituality.