During my extended break from YouTube in between posting relevant health updates, I did try to create other content related to coaching and personal development. But alas, my efforts lacked follow-through, for many reasons. One of these endeavors included the concept of a series in which I re-read self-help books I had previously reviewed on my other channel, and assessing whether and how my thoughts might have changed with added time and perspective. I started by attempting the re-read Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now. However, with over three hours of footage on my charged and nuanced thoughts, too much of which is taken up by me reading long passages of the book into the camera with frustrated commentary spliced in between – not to mention the minor hair crisis I was experiencing at the time of filming – I do not see that video ever coming to fruition. The footage is full of raw frustration and pain as I read these condescending, tone deaf passages, all the while haunted by Tolle’s early disclaimer that if one does not agree with his philosophy, they are simply too bogged down in ego to understand his level of enlightenment. It was too much for me to revisit (let alone subject others to) my attempt to verbally process what I was consuming while editing myself to try and come across as comprehensible and appealing to my anticipatedly varied, and – in all likelihood, as with the case when presenting criticism on something many people adore – hostile audience, all with my hair dyed a purplish red when I was going for a simple auburn. But now, after months of reflection, and the freedom that I have behind a keyboard to contemplate, edit, and sit sprawl legged on my couch with my hair in a bun and no concern for lighting and sound quality, I’d like to share my more polished thoughts on Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now and narrow in on what his message means to me as someone who lives with a chronic illness diagnosis.
Now, like I said, this is a book that has amassed an adoring fan base who find that Eckhart Tolle’s message resonates with them and has real meaning. Personally, I can’t understand how, though I try. The lack of a clear-cut answer on this matter does trigger this fearful pit in my stomach that perhaps it is a matter of what Tolle says: I am not wise, enlightened, or evolved enough to rise above my own suffering in order to comprehend the simple power he so graciously presents in his 217 pages of pure wisdom. For a book that markets itself as empowering, Tolle does present a consistent throughline in his book of people being essentially bad, cruel, asleep, and generally mentally ill. I do not exaggerate when I say that Tolle makes the frequent refrain that humanity is a mental illness. This message is one of many in The Power of Now that has the power to make the reader feel pretty bad about themselves. However, within the presentation of this message Tolle plants one simple antidote to cure the potential shame it can produce: believe in him, his message, the power of now. Once you believe in the power of now, you open yourself up to enlightenment, and that way you do not fall pray to the mental illness of humanity. The confidence with which Tolle speaks, and the high praise endorsement advertised on the cover, with millions of copies sold and Oprah Winfrey’s stamp of approval might make any reader forget that the author has no credentials to his name but his own assertion of his enlightenment. The claims Tolle makes on mental health, chronic illness, and a plethora of other nuanced topics are only easy to believe because of what believing him would promise the reader, according to him: freedom from all suffering. He removes barriers for compliance to his philosophy by stripping all of the nuance, diversity, and contradiction that our brains typically have to wrestle with to understand most other philosophies. According to Tolle, it’s as easy as: stop thinking. Just be, in all circumstances, no matter what, the moment is all that exists. It’s that simple. Boom. Total freedom.
In essence, Tolle's philosophy sounds a bit like a dumbed down version of stoicism. While the thesis of stoicism lies in the sentiment provided by Epictetus, “it's not things that upset us, but our judgments about things,” there are plenty built-in caveats to the philosophy that emphasize the importance of emotions and emotional regulation as an important aspect to this stoic goal of freedom from and mastery of the mind. The stoic does not allow themselves to become overwhelmed by a situation, but instead aims to reserve judgment and find solutions. Tolle’s The Power of Now on the other hand is full of judgment and dualistic thinking, re: the humanity is a mental illness. Instead of viewing difficult aspects of our human existence such as illness, relationship issues, or physical pain and finding empowerment through the solutions we can come up with those things and the strength and growth we can gain from such experiences, Tolle paints these difficulties not only as wholly bad and irredeemable, but also bastardizes stoic notions by asserting that these difficulties are not real, only a fabrication of our mind, and a symptom of the mental illness that is humanity. According to Tolle, without enlightenment, all relationships are inherently toxic, and with enlightenment, all physical and mental pain is eliminated. If I were to confide in Tolle about my experiences with abusive relationships, he would tell me that I put myself in those situations because I, on some level, wanted to be abused. If I shared about my chronic illness, he would say that my attachment to the label of my diagnosis was to blame for my symptoms. If I were to react in offense, this would only prove his point in his eyes. And even though these seem like totally out of pocket things to say, they are justified by the new age bastardization of stoicism that Tolle has coined for himself.
I couldn’t help myself from getting carried away a bit with the broad strokes of Tolle’s philosophy, but finally, I would like to focus on what Tolle says about physical pain and illness. As much as I think his opinions on the topic are completely out of pocket, these sentiments have in fact been echoed to me throughout the two and a half years I’ve had my diagnosis, within all sorts of different venues. In my opinion, it seems to be a pendulum swing reaction to a fed-up attitude with the traditional biomedical model of health. Within this attitude of health, the body and the mind are considered separate entities, and the response to illness is to treat the physical and dismiss any pain or distress that cannot be appreciated on a visual level, perhaps accompanied by a refrain to the tune of “it’s all in your head.” Obviously, this model of health proves less than comprehensive and can leave people feeling dismissed. But though this model is traditional in the sense that it is long-standing, it is not traditional in the sense that leading experts continue to uphold it. The biomedical model of health has been outdated since the 1930s, even if some of the mindsets still plague us. The more accurate view of health today is the biopsychosocial model. Within this model lies the understanding that our psychology and biology influence each other, and both can be influenced by our social circumstances. Good, qualified health care providers who are acquainted with quality standards of practice will subscribe to this health model, though alternative health gurus may act as if the concept is bespoke to them. However, it seems that something alternative health gurus or lay people will miss about the biopsychosocial model of health is the bi-directional relationship between our biology and our psychology. Perhaps people cope with the refrain that invisible illnesses are “all in their head” and the lack of adequate health attention by those stuck in the biomedical model of health by trying to heal themselves through their mind, because it was the only resource they had. Perhaps it’s too dangerous a thought that such physical pain can be real. But it is real, and this pain affects us psychologically just as our psychology can affect our pain, and sometimes the pile on of this physical and psychological stress – not to mention other social factors like access to health care, medical discrimination, etc. – is too much to solve with a simple attitude of “hey, don’t think about it and you’ll be fine.” But I don’t blame people for wanting to believe that the solution is that simple. Those who feel unsupported, that their pain is not understood, or who have been given a grim prognosis, may find that is the only comforting solution accessible to them. And for those who are not confronting chronic pain or illness, the idea of it can be so scary, they might want to cling on to something that allows them to believe that it couldn’t happen to them. One solution for that is to adopt the rhetoric that anyone who is dealing with such challenges, brought that suffering upon themselves. Maybe, despite all his enlightenment, Eckhart Tolle is scared of what ills may befall him with all the uncertainty that exist in the universe. Perhaps he circumvents that fear by finding ways that it can’t be real, that it can’t affect him, and anyone who does suffer is simply to blame for their suffering. Perhaps the root of his blunty certain philosophy is the antidote to his own fear of uncertainty. He certainly presented himself and his life prior to his experience of enlightenment as full of fear and overwhelm. Though he speaks in his book like the one arbiter of truth in the world, it’s worth leaving room for the possibility that Tolle can only speak for the world as how he has seen and experienced it.
As for my experience, at the beginning of my journey with my diagnosis, I was inundated with Tolle-like sentiments on how I should take charge of my health. When I was told that my suffering had a cause, had a name, and was given imaging that proved that my pain was tangible, the chronic nature of it may have scared my loved ones, but any fear on my part was eclipsed by the relief that my pain was real and now there was a solution. The fear that followed was instead implanted by these new age sentiments, that if I were to adopt my diagnosis as an identity, I wouldn’t stand a chance at getting better. This notion in fact made my journey to remission much longer and more painful than it had to be – fortunately, my stoic mindset allows me to see the value that came from that pain, and hopefully that value extends to someone reading this. It wasn’t until I adopted my diagnosis as part of my identity, sharing openly about my Crohn’s disease (with cheugy millennial-coded graphic T-shirts displaying phrases like my tummy hurts, but I’m being really brave about it, and all) that I was able to seek out treatment that ultimately lead me to my remission. And now that I’m in remission, those T-shirts tend to sit at the back of my dresser drawer, not so relevant to my identity anymore. It wasn’t a case of my psychology affecting my biology, but the other way around. And then again, around, and around, and around, flowing bi-directionally, as it does.
If Eckhart Tolle feels enlightened and content, more power to him. But he doesn’t have a right to tell me that I cannot be if I disagree with him. For me, embracing the reality of my struggles was the only way to eventually let them go. Instead of believing I was to blame for my suffering, I disregarded the idea of blame and opted instead to be responsible for the solution. I may not have the ability to believe that my pain is an illusion and by that power release all my suffering, but by doing things my way, now I know that I am strong enough to become stronger than any suffering I confront.
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