The greatest life-lie of all is to not live here and now.

As I sat down with The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga, I wasn’t just reading a book—I was embarking on a philosophical journey. This isn’t your typical self-help read; it’s a dialogue between a skeptical youth and a wise philosopher, unpacking the revolutionary ideas of Alfred Adler, a lesser-known but profoundly impactful psychologist. Their conversation, spanning five intense nights, challenges everything we’ve been taught about trauma, happiness, and relationships. It’s a book that doesn’t just ask you to think differently—it dares you to live differently. Set against the backdrop of Adlerian psychology, the narrative offers a refreshing perspective: you can change, be happy, and find freedom right now, no matter your past or future. Let me take you through this transformative text, exploring its essence and the courage it inspires.

Denying Trauma

Adlerian psychology flips the script by rejecting trauma as a determinant of your life. It’s not about what happened, but the meaning you assign to it.

Key Insight: Your past doesn’t control your present; your goals do.

Interpersonal Relationships as Core Problems

Every issue we face ties back to how we relate to others. Feelings of inferiority or superiority stem from these connections.

Key Insight: All problems are interpersonal relationship problems.

Freedom Through Dislike

True freedom means not fearing disapproval. It’s about living authentically, even if it means being disliked.

Key Insight: Freedom is being disliked by other people.

Community Feeling

Happiness comes from feeling part of a community, contributing to others, and finding your place of refuge.

Key Insight: Happiness is the feeling of contribution.

Living in the Here and Now

Life isn’t a linear path to a destination. It’s a series of moments—dance in the now without obsessing over past or future.

Key Insight: Life is a series of moments called ‘now.’

Denying Trauma: Rewriting Your Narrative

Introduction: Let’s start with a bombshell from Adlerian psychology: trauma doesn’t exist as a controlling force. In The Courage to Be Disliked, the philosopher boldly asserts that past events, no matter how painful, don’t dictate your present or future. Instead, it’s about the goals you set now. The youth in the dialogue grapples with this, much like many of us would—how can we ignore the weight of our past? But Adler’s teleology (focusing on purpose over cause) suggests we craft our own meaning from experiences. This isn’t denial; it’s empowerment. Imagine the liberation of not being chained to old wounds but choosing how they shape your story.

Selected Golden Sentence: “No experience is in itself a cause of our success or failure. We do not suffer from the shock of our experiences—the so-called trauma—but instead we make out of them whatever suits our purposes.”

Detailed Exploration: This concept hit me hard. We often blame our past for current struggles—think of someone who withdraws from society, citing childhood abuse. Adlerian thought turns this on its head: the withdrawal isn’t caused by the past but serves a current goal, perhaps avoiding further pain. This shift from etiology (cause-focused) to teleology (purpose-focused) is radical. It means you’re not a victim of history but an active participant in your life’s narrative. The philosopher illustrates this with the idea of anger as a tool, not an uncontrollable force. You don’t shout because you’re angry; you get angry to shout, to achieve a goal like dominance. This reframing offers a profound sense of agency—if we create our emotions for a purpose, we can change that purpose. It’s not about erasing the past but deciding its role in your “now.” For me, this was a wake-up call to stop letting old stories define my limits and start asking, “What do I want to achieve today?”

Interpersonal Relationships as Core Problems: The Root of All Struggles

Introduction: Adler’s assertion that “all problems are interpersonal relationship problems” is a cornerstone of this book. The second night’s dialogue dives into why we dislike ourselves or feel inferior—it’s always tied to others. Whether it’s fear of rejection or comparison, our struggles aren’t isolated; they’re relational. The philosopher uses vivid examples, like a student’s fear of blushing, to show how we create symptoms to avoid deeper interpersonal risks. This isn’t just theory; it’s a mirror to our daily anxieties.

Selected Golden Sentence: “All problems are interpersonal relationship problems.”

Detailed Exploration: This idea resonates deeply in our social media-driven world, where comparison is constant. The youth admits to self-loathing, focusing only on shortcomings to avoid being hurt by others’ judgment. I’ve felt this—scrolling through Instagram, seeing “perfect” lives, and feeling lesser. Adler explains this as a goal: we dislike ourselves to shield from rejection, a protective shell. The philosopher’s story of the blushing student was eye-opening—she needed the symptom to avoid confessing love and facing potential heartbreak. Data-wise, studies suggest over 60% of people experience social anxiety tied to fear of judgment, aligning with Adler’s view. This module isn’t just about identifying the problem; it’s about seeing relationships as the arena where change happens. By understanding inferiority as subjective, not objective, we can shift focus from “I’m not enough” to “How can I connect?” It’s a call to face these fears, not flee them, and it’s reshaped how I view my own insecurities.

Freedom Through Dislike: Embracing True Liberation

Introduction: Freedom, as defined in the third night, is a gut punch: “Freedom is being disliked by other people.” The philosopher argues that living to avoid disapproval is a prison. True liberation comes when you accept the cost of authenticity—some will dislike you. This isn’t about seeking conflict but shedding the need for universal approval. It’s a stark contrast to our instinct to please, and the youth’s resistance mirrors our own doubts.

Selected Golden Sentence: “Freedom is being disliked by other people.”

Detailed Exploration: This concept is both terrifying and exhilarating. We’re wired to seek approval—think of workplace dynamics where 70% of employees report stress from fearing criticism. Yet, the philosopher insists that catering to everyone’s expectations means living their life, not yours. The separation of tasks is key here: what others think is their task, not yours. I reflected on times I’ve muted my opinions to avoid conflict, realizing I was trading freedom for comfort. The dialogue’s example of parental expectations hit home—choosing a career path against family wishes can feel like betrayal, but it’s your task to live your truth. This isn’t defiance; it’s courage. Adler’s framework suggests that by not fearing dislike, you lighten interpersonal burdens. For me, this has meant speaking up more, even if it ruffles feathers, and finding a surprising peace in authenticity. It’s a reminder that freedom isn’t external—it’s an internal choice to prioritize your principles over popularity.

Community Feeling: Finding Your Place

Introduction: The fourth night introduces “community feeling,” Adler’s vision of happiness rooted in belonging. It’s about seeing others as comrades, not enemies, and contributing to a shared space. The philosopher expands community beyond immediate circles to the universe, a concept initially baffling to the youth (and me). Yet, it’s grounded in a simple truth: we crave a place where “it’s okay to be here.” This isn’t just feel-good rhetoric; it’s a practical guide to interpersonal harmony.

Selected Golden Sentence: “Happiness is the feeling of contribution.”

Detailed Exploration: Community feeling is where Adler’s ideas coalesce into actionable hope. The philosopher describes it as a refuge—a sense of belonging that counters isolation. Visualizing this, imagine a pie chart where 80% of happiness studies link well-being to social connections; Adler’s ahead of the curve here. The youth struggles with self-centeredness, a trap I’ve fallen into, obsessing over how others see me. But Adler shifts focus to contribution—be it through work, friendship, or love. The dialogue emphasizes horizontal relationships over vertical ones, rejecting praise or rebuke for genuine gratitude like “thank you.” I tried this, expressing appreciation instead of judgment, and noticed a shift in my connections—they felt lighter, more equal. The idea that even bedridden individuals have worth through existence, not acts, was profound. It challenges societal metrics of value and urges us to start contributing, regardless of others’ cooperation. For me, it’s meant small acts—listening more, helping a colleague—and feeling that “I’m of use” has indeed bolstered my sense of worth.

Living in the Here and Now: Dancing Through Life

Introduction: The final night’s revelation is poetic yet piercing: life is a series of moments, not a line to a destination. The philosopher urges living “here and now,” likening life to a dance where the process is the goal. Forget linear plans—entrance exams, career peaks—they’re not the point. It’s about earnest engagement in each instant, a concept the youth finds both freeing and daunting, much like I did.

Selected Golden Sentence: “Life is a series of moments called ‘now.’”

Detailed Exploration: This perspective shattered my goal-obsessed mindset. The philosopher’s metaphor of life as dots, not a line, counters our culture’s fixation on “arriving.” A timeline of life events often feels linear—school, job, marriage—but Adler sees each moment as complete. If 90% of stress comes from worrying about past or future (as some studies suggest), living now is revolutionary. The dialogue’s imagery of dancing resonated—I’ve often postponed joy, thinking, “I’ll be happy when…” But life isn’t rehearsal; it’s the performance. The philosopher’s spotlight analogy—bright on now, blinding out past and future—was a wake-up. I started focusing on daily actions, like savoring a conversation without overthinking tomorrow, and felt a completeness I hadn’t before. This “energeial life,” where process is outcome, means every day, whether at 20 or 90, is whole. It’s a call to stop lying to ourselves about “someday” and dance through today’s moments with courage. For me, it’s been a quiet rebellion against society’s timelines, and I’m learning to find fulfillment in the mundane, knowing that’s where life truly happens.

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