Narrative Identity and The Constructed Imagination

[@happinesspolicy]

Brilliant lecture, thank you so much! I loved it, lots to think about. The deepest talk I've heard in a long while. Wrote down several pages of notes.

[@netizencapet]

This is the goddamn Wisdom of Solomon. Golden apples in frames of silver.

[@AgnieszkaWalczuk-g8r]

It's gorgeous, isn't it. I have watched it twice and tremble with wonder and glee listening to it.

[@drsbrettsavage]

You are a influential and gentle as ever.

[@celesteashcombe47]

how is a personal narrative with themes of agency different from having an internal locus of control? I feel like this link between depression and agency has been explored.

[@NicoleTedesco]

Read both Erik Erikson and Dan McAdams (especially) on the topic of personal identity generally. Internal locus of control is a separate psychological phenomenon from identity development.

[@NicoleTedesco]

I stumbled upon this video in 2024. I am having trouble identifying the speaker. What is the conference this was recorded at? I would like to make reference to this talk. Update: Steve Athey, Leadership Circle Mini Conference, Sydney, Australia.

[@1995yuda]

Brilliant!

[@happinesspolicy]

I think the right word in the title is "constricted", not "constructed".

[@desertself]

Talk is good. Would be good to stress this disillusionment can happen for other reasons (e.g., illness).

[@NicoleTedesco]

Yes, it can. In short, we could say that a narrative identity can be challenged when it runs out of steam. The narrative theory no longer has predictive power. An Eriksonian crisis ensues. We go through a process-if we are lucky-to resolve that crisis. Yes, illness or trauma can certainly induce it too.

[@christiansmith-of7dt]

It missed me by 5 seconds

[@drsbrettsavage]

I have a 21 year old client "glued" to a mega-narrative and can't seem to see around the edges. by Rainer Maria Rilke The knight rides forth in coal-black steel into the teaming world. Outside his armor everything is there: sunlight and valley, friend and foe and feast, May, maiden, forest and grail, and God himself in a thousand forms to be found along every road. But inside the armor darkly enclosing him crouches death. And the thought comes and comes again: when will the blade pierce this iron sheath, the undeserved and liberating blade that will fetch me from my hiding place where I’ve been so long compressed - So that, at last, I may stretch my limbs and hear my full voice.