We are great at kidding ourselves

So convenient a thing is it to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for every thing one has a mind to do. Benjamin Franklin

Last week, Dr. Bruce Nadler (otherwise known as The World's Strongest Plastic Surgeon) committed suicide. Worse, according to forensic analysis, he shot and killed his wife point-blank before going into the next room and killing himself. We hear stories like these all the time, what makes this one different is I knew the guy: we both spoke at the Fitness Business Summit last year. Carol and I chatted with him and his wife and they were very nice people. After my presentation, Dr. Nadler made a point of shaking my hand and telling me how impressed he was. Like most people, I never would have guessed he suffered from depression and that, almost a year later, his depression would reach critical mass, resulting in murder and suicide.

My initial reaction upon learning of Dr. Nadler's suicide was shock, then, when I heard about how he killed his wife, it turned to revulsion. Taking your own life is one thing, but taking someone else out with you is not your right. That he murdered his wife is beyond disturbing.

I've become very interested in the study of happiness over the last several months, and thinking about the Nadler murder/suicide my brain's been turning non-stop. I wonder what Dr. Nadler was like at my age? Did he suffer depression then? Did he have any idea he'd go on to commit suicide at the age of 61? Further, when he and his wife married did he have any idea he would murder her many years later? I have no idea and never will, yet, if I had to guess, I doubt Dr. Nadler held any of those thoughts. My guess is he was happy at my age and enjoyed his married life and being a doctor. Maybe I'm mistaken, but I doubt he was clinically depressed for the last thirty years. So what happened? I have no idea, but it got me thinking: where will I be in my sixties? Will I still enjoy life and continue growing as a person, or will I feel depressed with no desire to live? The latter seems unlikely given my current level of happiness, but none of us really know what lies ahead.

We can spend our time planning out our lives, setting goals and creating an illusion of control over this crazy world, but in reality we have little--if any--control. You can be in the best shape of your life and on cloud nine one minute, then get hit by a car the next, ending the rest of your days as a paraplegic. You never know what's around the corner. Then, every once in a while, we'll predict something that comes to pass, feeding our ego and again reinforcing the illusion we can see our future--yet it is just that: illusion.

The Buddha taught all life is suffering. Sounds depressing—from a superficial analysis—but the deeper meaning is our suffering is due to attachment. When we lose something to which we feel attachment, it can become the tipping point over an edge. I don't think there's any single reason why Dr. Nadler killed his wife and then himself—I think there was a tipping point as he stood at the edge of his life. It's more likely his final scene was a culmination of several concurrent frustrations.

From the Buddhist point of view, it's not what happens in our life that makes us suffer, but how we interpret it. In one of my favorite books ever, Viktor Frankl's Man's Search For Meaning, Frankl chronicles his time in a Nazi concentration camp, explaining how some people survived while others lost all hope. The people who survived sought out whatever form of happiness was available to them: If their meal was edible, they experienced great happiness; if someone told a funny joke, they enjoyed the pleasure of that moment as long as possible. Even the warmth of the sun gave them joy. They looked for—and discovered—opportunities for gratitude in the least likely scenarios. Even more impressive, the survivors sought out gratifications wherever possible. Helping out their fellow men was critical: to create purpose to make it through their immense suffering--it wasn't enough to focus on individual survival; the survival of others suffering the same horrors became equally important. Bottom line: those holding strong purpose and meaning in their lives were far more likely to survive than those who lost all hope and thus, meaning.

I don't know why Dr. Nadler took his wife's life, then his own, but I think it's safe to say he lost all hope and saw no reason to go on living. When we lack purpose and meaning in our lives, a part of us dies every day, and it's important to understand this early, before purposelessness, like a virus, replicates within our cells, literally taking over our lives.

Never get comfortable and stop growing. Once you do, you begin dying. My grandfather, a successful businessman, was born in a shack in Montana and went on to become a millionaire and highly sought out consultant to Fortune 500 companies. When working, he was happy, but I noticed upon his retirement he wasn't excited about life anymore, though he still had purpose, since my grandmother had Alzheimer's Disease and was completely dependent upon him. Her care became his new purpose and reason to keep going. When she passed on, he no longer had a reason to live--but not because he had nothing left to offer. His brain was sharp and he could have engaged in any number of creative projects, but he didn't see it that way and passed on a few weeks after my grandmother. I genuinely admired my grandfather, he taught me a lot about life and the importance of doing what you love; however, his final lesson to me was this: when you lack purpose, the brain and spirit despair and you eventually shut down.

My great grandmother was a different story: she outlived everyone in her life and passed on at the age of 101. She survived breast cancer, her husband's death, the deaths of her sisters, and even those of her own children. She was a simple woman and lived in Montana her entire life—much of it lived alone on a ranch in a small town called Arlee. I used to love talking to her—she epitomized tough. What people consider tough today is ludicrous compared to what was tough in her day. I remember one time she was talking about all of her loved ones dying around her. You could tell she felt very sad, however she ended the story by saying we have to go on no matter what. My great grandmother was many things, but the image I hold of her is of a survivor. No matter what happened to her, she persisted in surviving—and thriving. The purposes she maintained throughout her life may be things us moderns would think of as mundane, even tedious, yet where there is purpose is also survival--and delight in life. It doesn't matter your achievements, or any fame you might attain, without purpose none of it matters, like it or not.

I'll never see anyone the same again. Meeting Dr. Nadler and his ensuing deterioration has irrevocably changed me. Now, whenever I meet someone new or talk to a friend, I'll always wonder if they're really happy or just struggling to maintain appearances. Whatever the case may be, I hope you know your purpose and are enjoying this life.