Part 4 begins with a quote by Rebecca Elson: “Sometimes as an antidote / To fear of death, / I eat the stars” (175).
“The sky” invites readers to imagine if the night sky only existed once in a lifetime. If the night sky were that rare, Haig thinks everyone would make sure to gaze at it and wonder. Instead, people take the sky for granted; although it is not practical to gaze at it in wonder every night, Haig urges readers to remember “how wonderful so much of life would instantly seem if it were if it was made rare” (178).
In “Watch the stars,” Haig suggests that seeing the night sky while in despair brings hope that one day one could appreciate it again.
“The universe is change” states that when Marcus Aurelius wrote Meditations, he was among the most powerful men in the world but that he nevertheless resisted taking comfort in his status. Instead, he favored “simplicity, consultation, and a cosmic perspective” (180). He emphasized the importance of watching the stars and spoke about Pythagoras, the early Greek philosopher and founder of Pythagoreanism, which regarded sky-gazing as a window into the divine. Haig reminds readers, “The sky doesn’t start above us. There is no starting point for the sky. We live in the sky” (181).
In “The stoic slave,” Haig describes his all-time favorite philosopher, Epictetus. Epictetus was born into slavery almost 2,000 years ago but was nevertheless permitted to study stoic philosophy. When he became a free man, he began to teach philosophy. He lived simply with few possessions and was alone for much of his life. Epictetus’s worldview emphasizes that what matters is not external events but one’s reactions to them, and it has helped people through difficult circumstances. Haig states that Epictetus reminds people that when they view their happiness as contingent on outward things, they cede what control they truly have over their lives.
“Caterpillar” describes the experience a caterpillar undergoes when metamorphosizing into a butterfly, disintegrating and then slowly being reborn. According to Haig, this illustrates how breaking down and experiencing dark times can create something new.
“Experience” reiterates that people are not what happens to them. Just as a person in a hurricane is not the hurricane, a person experiencing inner turmoil is not that turmoil.
In “A bit about breathing,” Haig describes how slow, conscious breathing helps him to relax and accept himself and his life. When Haig practices breathing, he counts to five silently to enhance the relaxing effect, and he practices for more than a minute. Such breathing is a way of existing in the moment.
In “What your breath tells you,” Haig states three times throughout the chapter that the reader is “enough.” He describes humans as not merely looking into a miraculous world but being part of that miracle. On the following pages, Haig again repeats the mantra, “Nothing is stronger than a small hope that doesn’t give up” (191).
“Live in the raw” again challenges readers to see themselves and the world as they truly are. In “Honest seeing,” Haig expands upon this idea.
“Wait” reminds readers that although they may be in pain, they have felt pain before, and good things have happened since. Future goodness is worth waiting for.
In “The cure for loneliness,” Haig states that people feel lonely when they are lost. Someone can be among many people but still feel lonely when those people don’t understand them. Haig suggests that self-knowledge can combat loneliness.
In “Patterns,” Haig states, “To be human—to be alive—is to fall into patterns of behavior” (197). Nevertheless, Haig advises readers to avoid becoming “trapped” in the same old patterns. Change can bring us comfort and a sense of freedom.
In “The discomfort zone,” Haig suggests that the so-called comfort zone can cause great discomfort. For example, people might remain in unhealthy relationships or continue working jobs that do not suit them. By pushing beyond one’s comfort zone, one can not only become more fully human but also find greater peace and satisfaction.
“Stuff” reminds readers that they do not always have to be productive; sometimes, existing is enough.
In “Ferris Bueller and the meaning of life,” Haig describes the film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as the best teen movie of all time because it teaches one to appreciate life in the moment and to feel things fully.
“Films that comfort” lists 19 films and explains why Haig finds them comforting.
In “Negative capability,” Haig notes that John Keats coined the phrase “negative capability” to describe an acceptance of mystery and ambiguity. According to Haig, negative capability is also about “vulnerability.” He states that “negative capability is about the space beyond what we know, which we should be prepared to reach if we want to find beauty” (206). Although Keats applied negative capability mainly to art, the term was later adopted by psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion, who gave it a more existential slant, arguing that setting aside memory and desire could bring freedom and openness to new ideas and possibilities. Haig implies that this freedom also encompasses embracing one’s own ambiguity. He concludes, “We don’t have to work everything out. We can just witness the beauty” (208).
“Why break when you can bend” invites readers to take a load off their backs and let themselves be vulnerable, cry, and accept themselves.
In “We have more in common than we think,” Haig recommends considering others through the lens of “emotion” rather than “opinions”; while the latter may vary, many people have the same underlying hopes, fears, loves, insecurities, longings, doubts, and dreams. Everyone is capable of both being wrong and of forgiving.
In “Forgiveness,” Haig states, “Forgiving other people is great practice for forgiving yourself when the time comes” (212).
“A note on introversion” suggests that introversion is something people ought to accept rather than seek to “fix.”
In “Resting is doing,” Haig reminds readers that they do not need to be busy and productive; rest is an important part of survival. He points out that resting and absorbing one’s surroundings can be more meaningful than actions people ordinarily view as productive. He compares rest to the pauses in music or speech that facilitate beauty and understanding.
In “Mystery,” Haig compares the art of living to the uncertainty and inconclusiveness of some of the best works of art. He writes, “Maybe the purpose is the mystery, not beyond it” (215).
In “The comfort of uncertainty,” Haig states that uncertainty and anxiety are intrinsically linked. No amount of reassurance can overcome uncertainty, but uncertainty can be a source of hope, according to Haig. Hidden among bad things are new perspectives and reasons to be grateful, even if that silver lining is unclear at the time. Haig argues that finding any consistent comfort requires accepting uncertainty.
In “Portal,” Haig states, “Each of us has the power to enter a new world. All we have to do is change our mind” (219).
In “Nothing is closed,” Haig states that one of the reasons people like stories is because they like structure. Haig admits that at one point in his life he craved resolution, though he acknowledges that life does not have a resolution, not even in death. However, lack of resolution can be more of a blessing than a curse, as Buddhist thinker Pema Chödrön suggested (221).
“The bearable rightness of being” points out that being is greater than doing.
In “Reconnection,” Haig observes that his anxiety reflects the pressures of modern life. Although he appreciates many aspects of modern technology, he feels most calm in an environment that reconnects him to his natural self.
In “A note on joy,” Haig shares that while he once sought external distraction, he eventually realized there is no escaping oneself. Haig acknowledges that pain is a part of life and is inextricably linked to happiness; what Haig was feeling at his worst was as much “life” as the distractions he pursued.
“A spinning coin” reiterates that although uncertainty causes anxiety it also provides a “solution.” Where there is uncertainty there is also hope. Haig writes, “We exist on a spinning coin. We cannot predict how it will land but we can enjoy the shine as it spins” (228).
In “You are alive,” Haig reminds readers that looks can be deceiving and do not encompass a person’s identity. Like a dolphin or a lion, all people are expressions of life, and connecting with all of life is always available to anyone alive.
In “One,” Haig discusses the human urge to quantify everything—including ourselves, which he argues causes people to “lose [their] sense of Infinity” (231).
In “One (Two),” Haig argues that if a person is connected to life itself, they continue to exist as long as life exists—even after their individual death.
In “Power,” Haig states, “The most powerful moment in life is when you decide not to be scared anymore” (233).
“Growing pains” indicates that to grow, one must change. Facing hard times is a part of evolving. Along these same lines, Haig includes a quote from Charles Dickens’s novel Great Expectations: “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but—I hope—into a better shape” (235).
In “How to look a demon in the eye,” Haig acknowledges how easy it is to want to escape negative feelings and avoid problems. He describes the human tendency to feel depressed about feeling depressed or anxious about feeling anxious and argues that those negative feelings “multiply” as a result. Haig stresses that the way out of this cycle lies in accepting and being honest about one’s feelings: “When we analyze rather than evade our darkest fears, we learn that even our largest demons are not as invincible as they first appear” (237).
“Remember” reminds readers that days and feelings do not last forever.
In “Opposites,” Haig points out that opposites rely on each other to exist. He again states that as day needs night, the dark shadows of a painting by Tintoretto accentuate areas of light. Likewise, “The mute silence of Maya Angelou’s childhood led to her determination to use her voice” (239). Haig includes the following quotation by William Blake: “Joy and woe are woven fine” (239). Haig states that he now avoids binaries and sees opposites as woven together.
“Love/despair” includes a quotation by Albert Camus: “There is no life without despair of life” (241). Haig states that his own love of life stems almost directly from despair. Having experienced troubling times, he is grateful for better times.
In “Possibility,” Haig states that existential philosopher Rollo May pointed out that courage and fear are not opposites because “the truly courageous are those who experience fear and move through it” (242). May likewise sees joy and despair as interrelated.
In “The door,” Haig states, “Everything in front of us is defined by possibility” (243). Although one never knows what is on the other side of the door, Haig recommends being grateful for the door’s presence.
“The messy miracle of being here” urges readers to practice self-acceptance and self-compassion rather than always seeking to escape or improve themselves.
Similarly, in “Acceptance,” Haig writes, “There comes a beautiful point where you have to stop trying to escape yourself or improve yourself and just allow yourself” (245).
“Basic nowness” cites Pema Chödrön’s argument about embracing oneself “as change.” Because everything exists in flux, self-compassion is not only compassion for the self but also for family and friends and all other beings.
In “How to be an ocean,” Haig presents an original poem that invites readers to surrender to the change that is part of their very nature and allow themselves to contain “tides” and “wrecked ships” (249).
“More” again states that moments of despair reveal what is meaningful and beautiful and emphasizes that “everything connects”: Everyone is connected to a multitude of other beings and every moment is connected to a multitude of other moments.
“End” reminds readers that nothing truly ends but rather changes: “You are here. In this moving moment. And in being here, you are also forever” (252).
Part 4 of The Comfort Book explores the wonder, beauty, and connection of being part of this world. It likewise explores the facets of life that people ordinarily fear, such as change, randomness, and uncertainty, and it highlights how one can find comfort in these things.
Haig’s invitation to imagine the night sky only existing once in a lifetime serves as a metaphor for life itself. People often take life for granted, and in its worst moments, it seems never-ending. Haig not only asks readers to take comfort in life’s abundance of beauty but also in its impermanence. Just as a wealth of natural beauty causes people to lose their appreciation of the world around them, people become “numb” to the wonder of life itself when they do not recognize their own mortality. That said, Haig also stresses that nothing truly ends because everything is interconnected—a concept he illustrates with another sky metaphor, saying, “The sky doesn't start above us. There is no starting point for the sky. We live in the sky” (181). “Nothing is closed” similarly champions life’s inconclusiveness and open-endedness. Citing Buddhist thinker Pema Chödrön, who stated “we suffer from resolution” (221), Haig argues that resolution causes suffering by stripping away possibility. Even death isn’t a true ending: “If you truly feel part of the bigger picture, if you can see yourself in other people and nature, if this you becomes something bigger than the individual you, then you never truly depart the world when you die” (232).
The book’s very structure echoes these points, although it does not necessarily need to be approached in linear fashion. Haig closes with images reminding readers of their connection to all of life and thus leaves the work open-ended. Despite its title, “End” is not really an ending at all because while change is constant, it is also the process by which things continue to exist and grow: “You are here. In this moving moment. And in being here, you are also forever” (252). The final lines of the book describe a series of transformations—day to night, rain to vapor, a bird molting—and ends with ellipses, stressing that this process of transformation is always unfolding and that the possibility of change for the better always exists.
Haig, therefore, again stresses that our perspectives on matters—particularly changes—hold more power than the matters themselves. As Marcus Aurelius said, “The universe is change. Our life is what our thoughts make it” (181). Stoic philosopher Epictetus had a similar philosophy that championed attitude as a means of achieving a sense of control in an otherwise uncontrollable world. The notion that a person’s thoughts outweigh what happens to them can inspire a more conscious way of thinking, mindfully observing one’s thoughts and choosing those that bring comfort. This is closely related to the idea of acceptance, which Haig explores in some detail in “How to look a demon in the eye,” describing humans’ tendency to resist negative feelings and problems. Because of this, emotions become self-fulfilling prophecies. By instead noting and examining one’s thoughts and feelings, one can break the vicious cycle and arrive at a clearer understanding of oneself. This is one reason why hardships can be blessings in disguise. Haig shares, “[T]he moments of deepest pain in my life were also the moments I learned the most about myself” (217). The quotation from Great Expectations makes a similar point and aligns with Haig’s metaphorical use of the image of a caterpillar metamorphosing into a butterfly. As a caterpillar endures unpleasant conditions to become a beautiful butterfly, people endure unfortunate circumstances and negative thoughts and emerge transformed.
The challenges the caterpillar faces to become a butterfly also reinforce humanity’s commonality and connectivity with nature, hearkening back to the image of people as “living in the sky.” People are not merely observers of the wonder and beauty the universe offers but an integral part of it. Likewise, Haig continues to remind readers of their connectedness to other people: “[I]f we look at people through the lens of emotion, at the feelings that drive opinions, rather than the opinions themselves, it’s easy to see the things we share” (210). This interconnectivity highlights the need for compassion, both for the sake of others and for oneself. By cultivating connection with others, one is less likely to feel alone and isolated.
In one of the last chapters of the book, “How to be an ocean,” Haig presents an original poem that sums up many of the text’s themes, such as change, fluidity, surrender, and the coexistence of opposites. The poem reminds readers that each person is “a thing in motion” and invites them to surrender to the change that is part of their very nature (248). Haig also urges readers to allow themselves to contain “tides” and “wrecked ships,” which represent the hardships that inevitably exist within an individual’s otherwise beautiful story (249). Like brushstrokes and shadows in a beautiful painting, those hardships contribute to the masterpiece of one’s life. There will be many more ships and many more tides, and the ocean will continue to press on.
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By Matt Haig