Dear DoGooders: I am writing to you because I noticed that you use DoGood Headquarters' advertising service. Please give me a moment to explain to you why DoGood's service is ultimately harmful to all of us. This is not a simple matter to explain but if you could read this letter to the end, I believe we could agree that everyone will lose by using DoGood's service. So, bear with me.
All my life, I’ve been told that my problem is not what I communicate, but how I communicate. Only recently, I’ve wised up to the fact that most people would not listen to me unless the idea is communicated in a form that is acceptable for them, like a restaurant accepting only a particular type of credit cards. The problem with this thinking is that it becomes habitual, and we can’t stop manipulating everything we communicate. After all, it feels good to be heard, so we become addicted to manipulating our own stories. How do we figure out when it is appropriate to manipulate and when it is not?
“This man was hurting, yet his problem wasn’t mine to solve. In fact, I needed to get out of his way so he could solve it,” said Laura A. Munson in her essay entitled “Those Aren’t Fighting Words, Dear.” It is her account of how she dealt with her marriage that almost fell apart. Her husband one day pronounced to her, “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.” Instead of reacting to it in an expected manner, she decided to stay calm and said, “I don’t buy it.” Her essay struck a chord with many people who are/were in similar situations.
What does “Virtue is its own reward” mean? And, what does “virtue” mean? When I searched the web, I came across this video of Barry Schwartz speaking at a TED conference about virtue. In his case, he defines virtue as a moral and social concept. I believe this is the most common way that the word “virtue” is used. Despite my respect for his ideas on the paradox of choice, I disagree with his thesis on this topic. I think he got the order wrong. When you practice virtue as its own reward, what appears to be moral is actually not moral at all. It only appears so to other people who are observing your act.
Since the subtitle of my book is about reconsideration, I believe we should reconsider—and broaden—the list of people who might be called upon to write a review. The list should include the author, who understands the book better than most of its other readers. Consequently, here is my autoreview, my review of my own book.
