Most of us have seen and smirked at a dog chasing his (or her, to be entirely equitable) own tail.  Around and around and around.  The dog must be thinking "oh, I've almost caught it! Just a little closer and I'll have it.  I know! I'll speed up and that will close the gap! ...How did it know I was going to speed up?! Crafty little thing!"  

It's comical, but one has to wonder about the sensibility of a much more intelligent creature chasing after things that are just as elusive, or should I say, illusive?  A dog may nip the very tip of its tail and feel as if it's worth trying to catch again and again.  And we may capture one of those things we chase just enough to keep us chasing after them, things like approval and appreciation and compliments and attention and validation of some sort.  Sometimes the effort sours and something twists inside so that we start doing things that get us what we want, but now it's a negative form of attention or validation.  The approval is now disapproval, but at least we were noticed. Such rebels would not appreciate their unique anti-approval identity to be recognized as tail-chasing, but it is.  Just as those who believe their identity rests in being seen as beautiful or intelligent or witty or clever or ingenious or a great cook or musician. Or whatever it is that gets you the strokes from others that keep your self esteem engine running.

This is not to say that self expression is bad or uniqueness isn't worthwhile or enriching to life, it's just clarifying the purpose of such behavior.  Sometimes, all too often, the uniqueness is a pursuit for attention and approval.  As such it has the potential of becoming a tail-chasing endeavor.  

I think that most people come to a point in their lives that the tail-chasing becomes a chore and a bore; it is recognized for what it is--a fruitless pursuit.  With this recognition there may be a period of disequilibrium, a time of floundering for who one really is, a crisis of identity, but this moment leads one to a liberation.  One is free of the life-draining activity of tail-chasing.  

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks of worrying about food and clothing.  He mentions how God cares for the birds and how the flowers are more beautiful than Solomon's clothing, but that it all is gone in an instant.  There's a lot to be said about the kind of worrying common in people's lives, but something about this passage seems to apply to the tail-chasing we do for approval and recognition and acceptance.  I think most of it is about proving our worth in order to be loved.  And Jesus had something to say about that too: for one, there's nothing we can do to be worthy of the love we most desire; and two, we're already loved way beyond anything we can earn.  That's essentially the Good News.  So no tail-chasing is necessary!
Unless, like a dog, you just enjoy doing so.

© Stephen Carl