The profound intersection of humanistic psychology and spiritual inquiry, particularly in the later stages of life, is a recurring theme within intellectual discourse. This phenomenon is exemplified by prominent figures who, after dedicating their careers to understanding the human psyche, turned their attention to questions of existence, meaning, and the transcendent. Abraham Maslow, a pioneer of humanistic psychology, spearheaded the development of transpersonal psychology, aiming to integrate spiritual experiences into the scientific framework. Fritz Perls, the co-founder of Gestalt therapy, found resonance in Zen Buddhism, exploring its contemplative practices. Roberto Assagioli, the architect of psychosynthesis, actively led meditation groups and openly identified as a Theosophist. Even Carl Rogers, a cornerstone of talk therapy, acknowledged the necessity of acknowledging "mysterious dimensions" and "barely comprehensible realities" that exist alongside the empirically verifiable world. Similarly, Ruth Cohn, an influential psychotherapist who spent significant time in the United States, including at the renowned Esalen Institute, candidly documented her spiritual experiences in natural settings.
In a recent discourse, media studies scholar Bernhard Poerksen engaged in a deep conversation with Friedemann Schulz von Thun, a highly respected humanistic psychologist. Schulz von Thun, one of the most widely read and influential psychologists in the German-speaking world, has dedicated his professional life to the art of communication. His work, while grounded in psychological principles, implicitly reflects a spiritual dimension, particularly his contemplation of impermanence – a concept central to Buddhist philosophy and one that he observes as both a source and a potential resolution of human suffering. While Schulz von Thun eschews explicit Buddhist terminology, his psychological framework often echoes these profound truths. Their dialogue, as captured in the book Communication as an Art of Living: The Philosophy and Practice of Talking with Each Other, co-authored by Poerksen and Schulz von Thun, delves into fundamental questions of human existence, the pursuit of meaning, truth, and happiness in the face of mortality, illness, and death.
Confronting Mortality in a Media-Saturated World
The current global landscape, marked by persistent exposure to images of conflict and suffering, has brought the specter of death into sharp focus. Poerksen initiated the conversation by posing a critical question regarding the psychological impact of this constant barrage of violence on individuals who are not directly involved.
Bernhard Poerksen (BP): At the moment, we are constantly exposed to images of injured and dead people. Death is currently a regular guest on news programs around the world. How does this cumulative violence affect viewers who are actually not directly involved?
Friedemann Schulz von Thun outlined three primary psychological responses to this constant exposure to suffering:
Friedemann Schulz von Thun (FST): I see three possible reactions: First, plain indifference and ignorance—we humans are masters at fending off fear! Second, all kinds of avoidance reflexes designed to not let these horrific images get to us. And finally—this, too, is a conceivable response—a vague fear, a feeling that the impacts are closing in and that the conflict zones are expanding unchecked.
The Awareness of Finitude: Beyond the News Cycle
Poerksen then probed whether these images of violence could, paradoxically, serve as a catalyst for an awareness of life’s finite nature, thereby highlighting the fragility of human existence.
BP: Can images of violence and torture also raise a kind of awareness of the finite nature of human life? So the meta-message of the horror would be to confront the fragility of one’s own existence.
Schulz von Thun, however, posited that while such images can indeed disrupt our sense of security, the fundamental awareness of our mortality is an intrinsic part of the human condition, irrespective of external events.
FST: No, I don’t think so. Admittedly, these images can unsettle a primal sense of safety and security. But irrespective of extreme events such as experiencing violence and war, the awareness of finiteness is also there in our everyday lives. Deep down inside and regardless of the current news situation, we know, of course, that we must die.
Death as Scandal or Release: Shifting Perspectives
Schulz von Thun’s lifelong work in communication, Poerksen observed, is predicated on the possibility of continued dialogue and connection, a premise that seems to be fundamentally challenged by the finality of death. This led Poerksen to question whether death, from this perspective, might be perceived as a "scandal" that annihilates the potential for future interactions.
BP: You have spent a lifetime thinking, studying, and writing about communication. So I’d say that you have basically always been concerned with how to go on living and talking. The premise has always been that it is possible to talk again one more time—provided you’re alive, strong, and healthy enough. Seen from this perspective, death must seem like a scandal that brutally destroys the chance of a new beginning in the sphere of communication.
Schulz von Thun offered a nuanced perspective, suggesting that the perception of death as a scandal is contingent upon one’s worldview and existential self-concept.
FST: Here’s my response: Whether you see death as a scandal depends on your worldview and on your existential self-concept. If you see yourself as the pinnacle of creation and are a bit narcissistically inclined, then death is the maximum insult. If you bear in mind that your life can become very painful, death can be a release—a kind of life insurance that the agony will not last forever. Perhaps in that case, you will welcome death as a good friend, and medically assisted suicide as a merciful prospect. And if you bear in mind that you have been invented as a link in a chain, exactly in between those who went before you and those who will come after you, it makes sense to clear the way.
The Natural Order of Things: Embracing Impermanence
Despite these alternative viewpoints, Poerksen acknowledged the deeply ingrained human instinct to perceive death as an adversary, a "horrible fact" that transcends even philosophical and religious attempts at consolation.
BP: And yet it is only natural to see death as an enemy. All religious and philosophical attempts at consolation notwithstanding, death is a horrible fact.
Schulz von Thun responded by referencing Arthur Schopenhauer’s pessimistic philosophy, which posits that life itself is inherently an "intolerable abomination," with individuals being seduced into loving life only to be met with a death warrant they carry from birth.
FST: Because it destroys everything we love? Of course, we could say with Arthur Schopenhauer that the way our life is constructed is an intolerable abomination. First, we are seduced into falling in love with life. And just when we have become one and friends with ourselves, we receive our death warrant, which we actually carry around with us from the moment we are born.
Finding Congruence: Sleep, Death, and the Art of Letting Go
Poerksen introduced a poignant observation by Woody Allen, who humorously expressed a preference for living in his apartment over living on in people’s hearts, encapsulating a relatable sentiment about the desire for tangible existence over abstract legacy.
BP: Woody Allen once formulated this regret about one’s own finiteness in a both funny and yet melancholy way: “Someone once asked me if it was my dream to live on in people’s hearts. I said that I would rather live on in my apartment.”
Schulz von Thun then proposed an analogy between sleep and death, suggesting that a fulfilled life might lead to a natural "satiation and tiredness with life," making the transition into death feel congruent and right. He likened this to the restorative process of sleep after an exhausting day.
FST: For me, the question is: What attitude toward death is worth striving for? What attitude can help me feel positive about life even though it has this inbuilt expiry date? I’ll give it a try: Isn’t sleep scandalous too? We are here on this planet for such a short time—and then we miss out on a third of this precious time by sleeping! And yet, if the day was exhausting and full, it is wonderful to drift off into sleep; I am not going to complain about that. So perhaps, analogous to this little death, a fulfilled and rich life can at some point result in a deep satiation and tiredness with life, so that it seems congruent and right to smoothly drift off into death?
Poerksen, however, pointed out a crucial distinction: the certainty of waking up after sleep. This assurance, he argued, makes the act of drifting off infinitely easier and perhaps more beautiful.
BP: But the certainty of waking up the next morning makes drifting off into sleep infinitely easier—and perhaps only beautiful in the first place.
FST: You’re right, I agree! If you had the certainty that death, too, is only the beginning of a transformation toward something new, that there will be another awakening and a new day, though perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word, it would be much easier to admit this feeling of delicious weariness, to rest easy and close your eyes. Unfortunately, I don’t have this certainty, and if I’m not mistaken, you don’t have it either.
The Mystery of Being: Acknowledging the Unknown
The conversation then shifted to the human need for belief and the potential for faith to serve as a coping mechanism for existential anxieties. Poerksen suggested that a belief in an afterlife might be an attempt to console ourselves for an "existential meaninglessness and homelessness."
BP: No. To me, such a belief ultimately seems an attempt to console us for an existential meaninglessness and homelessness that we don’t want to look in the face.
Schulz von Thun countered that while acknowledging existential realities, he doesn’t perceive life as entirely devoid of meaning or home. He emphasized the grounded reality of human connection and the present moment.
FST: But we’re not quite that existentially homeless, after all. The fact that the two of us are sitting here, that we are breathing and having a friendly conversation and a roof over our heads in case of rain, shows that we are very much at home on this earth. What I am trying to get at: Your hypothesis of cruel meaninglessness and homelessness does not resonate with my own experience of life.
Poerksen raised the ultimate outcome of existence: "But all that remains at the end is a bagful of dust."
BP: But all that remains at the end is a bagful of dust.
Schulz von Thun reframed this, focusing on the richness of life that precedes this end. He cautioned against allowing the contemplation of death to overshadow the vibrant experience of living.
FST: Yes, at the end! But before that lies our whole life—for example, right now, this very moment, when we are sitting here across from each other and looking at each other. It’s true that we cannot live forever. But by looking at everything from the perspective of the end, you run the risk of demonizing death and giving it a significance that defines and overshadows your entire life.
The Power of Perspective: Choosing Our Relationship with Death
Poerksen inquired whether one’s relationship with death is fundamentally a matter of perspective, a choice that individuals can consciously make.
BP: That’s a different way of looking at it. Would you say that it is simply a matter of different perspectives that one is more or less free to choose?
Schulz von Thun affirmed this, suggesting that while not entirely a free choice, individuals can influence their perception. He stressed the importance of not allowing the "sword of Damocles" of death to hang over one’s entire life, thereby diminishing its richness.
FST: More or less. Whether I allow myself to be impressed by this sensational and mysterious life or whether I am totally caught up in the fact of my own finiteness is a choice I make. As a matter of fact, I believe that it is right and necessary not to give too much power to thoughts of the end in order not to have death hanging over your childhood, youth, and adult life like the sword of Damocles. That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Death is powerful and important, but there is, after all, one thing it cannot take away from us: having lived and possibly having lived this wonderful life to its fullest. On that score, death is a powerless fellow.
Navigating Fate and Self-Determination
Poerksen drew a parallel between Schulz von Thun’s communication psychology, which emphasizes negotiation and compromise, and the absolute finality of death, which offers no room for compromise. He expressed surprise that death did not provoke greater anger in him, given its existential threat to an "art of living that strives for compromise and balance."
BP: Your entire work, your entire psychology of communication aims at talking with each other, at negotiating different perspectives, at compromise. Death, however, is not able to compromise; it is final and absolute. So I am surprised that the fact of death does not make you much angrier. It threatens life and an art of living that strives for compromise and balance. It is existentially and intellectually annihilating.
Schulz von Thun explained that his relative equanimity stems from an awareness of "being lived" by fate. He advocates for a balance between humility towards this fate and the active unfolding of one’s potential as a responsible author of one’s own life.
FST: On this issue, I am indeed not as upset and angry as you are. The awareness that I am doomed to a human fate, that I was born without being asked and that I will die without being asked and that, in the time in between, fate will offer and foist some things on me that I really can’t take credit for—this awareness of being lived suggests that a certain humility toward fate is a congruent attitude to life. At the same time, we are tasked with unfolding our potentials and talents, and thus, more or less, become a responsible subject and the author of our own life’s story. What matters is that we combine these two things in our thinking and in our lives.
Poerksen summarized this as a balance between humility toward fate and self-determination.
BP: If I understand you correctly, it is about balancing humility toward fate and self-determination.
FST: Yes, I think so. For if we only feel humility toward fate, we will end up as resigned fatalists who do not take responsibility for our lives. If we only believe in self-determination, we might end up with a feeling of omnipotence that is not only maniacal but also comes with a painful over-responsibility—along the lines of: As true author of everything that’s going on, I am responsible for everything that happens to me.
The "Happiness-Inducing Hypothesis" of Life After Death
Wilhelm Schmid, a proponent of a philosophy-inspired art of living, proposed a "ratiocination solution" to the problem of death: viewing it as a transition. Schmid argued that this belief, regardless of its truth, makes life more tolerable by offering the possibility of continued existence or, if nothing follows, the end of suffering. He termed this a "happiness-inducing hypothesis."
BP: The writer Wilhelm Schmid, author of numerous books on a philosophy-inspired art of living, once presented a kind of ratiocination solution to the problem of death. His proposition is that, no matter what, it is wise to imagine death as merely a kind of transition, as this would make life easier and more tolerable in the here and now. He argues that, ultimately, everything is a matter of faith, and that nobody knows anything for sure. So we are free to choose what to believe. If something came after death, we could continue to enjoy our existence. If nothing came after, it wouldn’t matter either—for everything would be over and done with, anyway. In short, Schmid recommends the belief in a life after death as a happiness-inducing hypothesis.
Schulz von Thun acknowledged Schmid’s "clever" solution but expressed reservations about its efficacy if not deeply integrated into one’s psyche. He cautioned against self-deception for the sake of comfort.
FST: This seems to be a smart, or at least clever, solution. But this will only work if this belief is also confirmed in the deeper levels of your psyche; otherwise, it will remain a figment of the mind and not take hold of the whole person. I don’t want to criticize his suggestion; it’s just that I probably wouldn’t be able to do that. For it assumes that you first choose, from among the various possible positions, the most agreeable one and then decide to believe in it. If I did that, I would not be able to shake off the feeling that I was deceiving myself in order to console myself.
Personal Position: Embracing Mystery and Awe
When asked to articulate his own stance, Schulz von Thun admitted to a profound uncertainty regarding what, if anything, lies beyond death. He suggested that the most probable scenario is a return to the state preceding his conception—an "infinite nothingness." However, he qualified this by acknowledging the limitations of his cognitive apparatus in comprehending the vast mysteries of the universe.
BP: How would you describe your own position?
FST: I am not at all sure whether there is something after death that will transcend my current existence. It’s probably most likely that everything will be the way it was before my conception—infinite nothingness, as far as I can remember. But I cannot be sure of that either, because I am only a speck of dust in this mysterious universe, equipped with a cognitive apparatus that is barely suitable to help me find my bearings on planet Earth. This world, including myself and my life on earth, is a big mystery to me, from top to bottom. At times, I am seized by humility and awe—and this, to me, is existentially more congruent than pretending to hold firm beliefs.
God as the Unknown Addressee of Gratitude
Poerksen proposed that what Schulz von Thun terms "mystery," a mystic might identify as "God"—a cipher for the "wholly Other" that transcends human comprehension.
BP: What you call mystery, a mystic would probably call God. God would thus be a cipher for the wholly Other that cannot be grasped by mental categories.
Schulz von Thun agreed with this definition, stating that if God is understood as a cipher for the mystery of being, then he sometimes feels close to God. He articulated his concept of God as the "completely unknown addressee of my gratitude as a creature," emphasizing that his very existence, from his physical attributes to his consciousness, was not of his own making but rather a given.
FST: If this is your definition of God—as a cipher for the mystery of being—then I am sometimes close to God. For me, God is the completely unknown addressee of my gratitude as a creature. I say “creature,” because nothing that makes me, me—eyes, ears, heart, genes, blood, hands, legs, sex, brain, etc.—is something I made, ordered, or invented, but it was all there—complete with the “self” that identifies with this ready-made life.
Awe-Inspiring Creation: Evolutionary Perspective
Poerksen inquired whether this formulation of an unknown addressee of gratitude held a specific religious meaning for Schulz von Thun. He responded that while it is "religious," it is not in the "church sense." He finds the creation narrative presented by evolutionary biology, astronomy, and natural sciences far more awe-inspiring than the biblical account. He eloquently described the incredible lineage of survival artists spanning millions of years, from his piscine ancestors to his current existence.
BP: Does this formulation of the unknown addressee of your gratitude hold a more specific religious meaning for you?
FST: Religious, yes, but not in the church sense. For me, the story of creation told by the theory of evolution, astronomy, and the natural sciences seems actually much more awe-inspiring than the creation story told by the Bible. So I am supposed to have been created from two tiny cells, one from my mother and one from my father? And then this tiny lump of cells is supposed to have grown millionfold in the womb of somebody descending from predators and mammals, based on a construction plan that can be found inside these cells? Hello? I can trace back my ancestors to the beginnings of life on earth? And there is still something of the fish inside of me—this ancestor who lived in the water, who ate and was eaten? Hello? Without a single exception, all my ancestors have “procreated” before being eaten or dying some other way? What a tradition of survival artists across hundreds of millions of years! It’s all quite incredible and breathtaking, right?
The Emerging Spiritual Dimension
Poerksen reiterated his observation that many protagonists of humanistic psychology, in their later years, engage with spiritual questions, citing Maslow, Perls, and Cohn as examples. Schulz von Thun, while humorously self-identifying as a "young man" compared to these figures, acknowledged that he is gradually and "timidly" opening up to these spiritual questions. He described a shift where the awareness of mystery is slowly moving from the background to the foreground of his consciousness.
BP: I’ve noticed that many protagonists of humanistic psychology engaged with religious questions in later years: Abraham Maslow founded transpersonal psychology, a psychology of spiritual experiences; the Gestalt therapist Fritz Perls turned to Zen Buddhism; and Ruth Cohn candidly wrote about her God-experiences in the Swiss mountains.
FST: Well, I am still—if you allow me this little ironic deflection of your big and heavy questions—a young man, so who knows what I will be up to should I actually grow as old as Carl Rogers or Ruth Cohn? I am still stuck in an earthbound pragmatism and am only gradually and somewhat timidly opening up to the spiritual questions that we have talked about. I am almost tempted to say that I have no “spiritual skills.” But something’s happening. Slowly. I notice that occasionally, and more and more frequently, figure and background change places.
Gestalt Analogy: The Shift from Pragmatism to Awe
Schulz von Thun elaborated on this "figure and background" analogy from Gestalt psychology. He explained that in his daily life, pragmatic concerns typically occupy the "figure," while the awareness of life’s mystery remains in the "background." However, increasingly, these positions reverse, allowing him glimpses of the "amazing mystery of my being" even during routine activities like climbing stairs.
BP: What do you mean by this analogy from Gestalt psychology?
FST: What I mean is that, in my everyday life, the awareness of the mystery of being remains far in the background. The figure in front consists of the real-life pragmatism of the daily matters that monopolize my time. But now and then, and more and more often (partly this happens by itself, partly I try to induce this state), figure and background change places: I suddenly get a glimpse of the amazing mystery of my being while engaging in routine activities such as, for example, climbing stairs. In moments like these, climbing stairs is not merely a means to an end, to get somewhere, but a moment that happens for its own sake.
He further described this as a sudden sense of humility and awe, recognizing the improbable journey that has led to his present moment—climbing stairs in an erect posture, with a mind set on a goal, perceiving and feeling. This cosmic "mega-sensation" of which he is a descendant steps into the foreground, heightening his appreciation for the preciousness of life, especially in light of its finite nature.
BP: Can you elaborate on this thought?
FST: It’s not easy to explain. It’s this sudden sense of being humbled and awed that here I am, climbing these stairs in an erect posture (an achievement I owe to my most recent ancestors), my mind set on a goal, seeing and breathing and feeling a certain way. In this moment, the cosmic mega-sensation of which I am a final descendant steps out from the background of incidental matter-of-factness into the foreground of my awareness. This can lead to a sense of life’s preciousness, which is heightened by the knowledge that I will not be able to climb these stairs forever.
