In the last column, we explained that when we act with responsibility today, we shape how we experience tomorrow—because our actions form our perspective, perspective creates context, and context defines meaning.
The Meaning Equation
It’s not the content of a circumstance that defines how we experience it—it’s the context. Perspective is what determines whether something feels overwhelming, insignificant, or anything in between. Meaning isn’t inherent; it’s assigned.
When a stressor hits, the first question we ask—consciously or not—is: What does this mean? The answer has nothing to do with the situation itself—and everything to do with our perspective. It’s our lens that determines what matters—and how much it matters. Perspective operates on two levels:
Qualitative — it tells us what to care about.
Quantitative — it tells us how much to care.
Imagine a small child whose toy suddenly breaks. To her, it’s everything. She cries as if her world has fallen apart—because in her world, it has. But her parents see it for what it is: just a toy. They have perspective. She doesn’t.
The moment we decide what matters and what doesn’t, we define the lens through which we interpret life. But if that lens is distorted, any meaning built on top of it becomes unstable—resting on a shaky foundation. It’s not the situation itself that shapes how we feel or respond—it’s the lens we’re using to view it. Consider insults or offenses: when the ego isn’t engaged, they barely register. But when the ego is triggered, even a small, slight cut deep—regardless of intent or context. Whether the other person was in a bad mood, genuinely sorry, or meant no harm becomes irrelevant. Over time, perspective returns—and with it, context and meaning—typically softening the sting, helping us forgive or forget. But by then, the damage may already be done: ingrained, and sometimes long-lasting.
A narrow lens doesn’t just blur what matters—it warps scale. We lose the ability to gauge how much something matters. Minor setbacks feel catastrophic. A passing comment becomes an attack. Emotionally, everything feels outsized. This helps explain why a child—naturally egocentric and limited in perspective—often becomes agitated by small obstacles or frustrations. Young children react to their environment with sudden tantrums, impulsive excitement, dramatic mood swings, and a black-and-white view of the world. They’re quick to misread others’ behavior and often overreact to perceived slights, criticism, or rejection.
Whole in the Moment
Of course, some life events are inherently painful or pleasurable. Win a $1 million lottery, and we’re in a good mood; face a major setback, and we’re in a bad one. But we must be clear: it’s perspective that determines not only how intensely we feel those moments at first—the emotional impact—but also how we ultimately integrate them into our lives over time.
Research shows that even extreme life events—whether devastating or euphoric—don’t have a lasting impact on overall happiness. A well-known study compared two groups: individuals who had become paraplegic and individuals who had won the lottery. Initially, their emotional reactions were exactly what we would expect—grief and despair in the first group, elation and excitement in the second. But six months later, something surprising happened: both groups had returned to their baseline level of happiness. The paraplegics were no more unhappy than before, and the lottery winners were no more fulfilled.
This phenomenon—known as hedonic adaptation—has been demonstrated across a wide range of studies. In one, individuals who achieved meaningful long-term goals—such as graduating, losing weight, or earning a promotion—reported only a temporary spike in happiness. But without continued growth or new sources of purpose, the emotional high quickly faded. In another study, individuals who suffered major financial losses eventually returned to their baseline level of life satisfaction—even though their external hardships remained.
The Logic is Clear
We feel happy when we receive something we want—not merely because we gained or acquired it, but because in that moment, we want nothing. For that brief space in time, we are complete. Similarly, when we experience relief from a stressor—such as recovery from an illness, whether our own or that of a loved one—we feel intense happiness because, in that moment, we are whole. We are complete. That sense of completeness emerges from humility (recall the sequence: perspective > humility > gratitude > joy). When the ego contracts, we experience ourselves as full. When it expands, we experience ourselves as lacking—no matter what we have.
A person who lacks gratitude gains nothing from more—because if we don’t appreciate what we have, we’ll never appreciate what we get. We’ve all known people who seem to have every advantage, yet live in a constant state of discontent. And we’ve seen others—battered by hardship and even the fiercest heartaches—who still radiate joy. Positive experiences don’t guarantee happiness any more than painful ones guarantee misery. We may convince ourselves that we’re different—that we’re the exception. But without perspective, even getting what we want won’t make us happy. And with perspective, we can be confident that we’ll find happiness—even when we experience what we don’t want. We remind ourselves of the equations:
The more responsible our choices > self-esteem strengthens > ego shrinks > perspective widens > we see a greater context > life (and its challenges) gain meaning > suffering is tempered, and pleasure deepens.
The less responsible our choices > self-esteem weakens > ego expands > perspective narrows > we see a diminished context > life (and its challenges) lose meaning > anxiety and despair follow.
The mandate is clear: to infuse ourselves with bitachon we must live with greater responsibility. Although we may intellectually understand what is necessary, fears and anxieties inevitably arise. In the upcoming part, we will leverage cutting-edge research and highlight psychological strategies to more easily and effectively take action and move our lives forward.
(To be continued)
