There is a simple psychological technique for exactly this purpose.
It is incredibly effective at inducing compliance if they are proving very resistant.
First, you need to record how many cars are parked in your street each day. And when you get home each night, wrap everything electrical in tin foil.
Then copy out relevant passages from the Old Testament. And eat them in alphabetical order. But if the word ‘no’ appears in a passage - then you have to check the kitchen for clues.
If there is any salt you didn’t spill lying around - you will know they have got the message.
But watch out - it’s all too easy for them to paint you as the crazy one.
That’s the kind of crazy mind-games they play.
…Me, I’m a buddhist. We think everyone's crazy. All sentient beings are deranged.
So the idea is: you don’t convince someone they are crazy. You see they are suffering and think of ways to help.
I also work in advertising. And trust me - one thing I have learned is this: people hate advertising. No one wants to be sold to. Or told what to think. Least of all about how they think.
If you have powerful arguments - you are not going to be welcomed. You are a conquering army seizing control.
Do not persuade. Do not tell them something they don’t want to hear.
Tell them something they believe, or want to hear.
That way - they will want your help. Because you really are helping them.
You’ll be offering directions, not grabbing the steering wheel.
It seems to me that - especially in America today - diagnosis of psychological problems is being used as a power play.
‘You are sick. You need help’ is not an offer of help - it is an attack.
Psychological interventions should not trick.
They should treat.
You might think that I’m being unfair; blaming you for trying to help.
And assuming I know better; and insulting you by calling you the crazy one.
-- the day of days when spring at last holds up her face to be kissed, deliberate and unabashed. On that day no wind blows either in the hills or in the mind."
— E.B. White (One Man's Meat)
— E.B. White (One Man's Meat)
What can I tell you about time? To say that it flies is inaccurate. It's more of a gallop. Where once days turned into weeks, weeks have begun to pass like days. Somewhere along the continuum, Monday skips Tuesday and Wednesday and goes straight to Thursday; then another weekend goes by, and soon it occurs to you that Saturdays have gone missing, too.
"Excuse me, sir? Could you please tell me, where does a woman go when she is—to quote Rainer Maria Rilke: 'too young for what is old / and too old for what has never been'? You see, I'm not supposed to be here yet. I missed my stop—the one where I was going to be dating and seeking expert financial advice and writing a best-selling novel and taking up meditation. That stop. I've got to go back! Just 10 years. Hey, mister! You don't understand. There are people I haven't met yet who don't know they're expecting me!"
"When you are in your late twenties through mid-forties, your power—sexually, socially, professionally—is a mix of your beauty, your intelligence, your sense of humor, your social skill. So for almost 20 years you go along with that quartet of components, some of them more prominent than others, but all in play. While you may never use your looks overtly, it's part of your arsenal, part of the total you. Then one day, the beauty part starts to crumble a bit. Suddenly, you're out of whack."
By Holly Millea via ELLE