Acting "As Though"

There’s a passage in Nikos Kazantzakis’ book, Zorba the Greek, that sheds light on the importance of attitude.

“I remember one morning when I discovered a 90-year-old man planting an almond tree.
‘What, old man!’ I exclaimed. ‘Do you mean to plant trees now, at your age?
Do you expect to live long enough to eat the fruit from them?’
The old man answered calmly, without turning his head:
‘Me, my son, I live as though I were never going to die.’
I replied, ‘And I, my friend, live as though I were to die any minute.’”
— Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

This small exchange captures two extreme “as thoughs.” One lives as though life is endless; the other as though it could end at any moment. Both philosophies are impossible, yet both are valid. Each expresses a deliberate stance toward existence. Even if we don’t acknowledge it, we all live according to our own versions of “as though”. It doesn’t really matter whether they’re true, what matters is whether they’re useful.

At first glance, our “as thoughs” are unlikely to appear as extreme as these, or to be solely about death. And yet, we all have powerful and recurring “as thoughs” about life, and about death. They’re most likely to appear as the quiet, anxious but often false certainties that shape our days: as though I can’t cope without control, as though I have to please everyone to be safe, as though my worth depends on what I achieve, as though one mistake means I’ve failed, as though I must always hold it together. These assumptions are rarely stated out loud, but they still direct the tone and movement of a life. And, most importantly, they still flavour our emotional experience.

This is the paradox of being human. Our “as thoughs” are both freedom and responsibility. Freedom, because we can choose them, and responsibility, because we must. Once we see the “as though” behind our choices, we can no longer pretend we are neutral participants in life. We are authors.

Viktor Frankl, the psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor who founded logotherapy, built an entire therapeutic philosophy around this insight. He wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms … to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.” Frankl urged us to live as though meaning were always possible, not because it is guaranteed, but because the act of choosing restores our dignity.

Carl Jung, the Swiss depth psychologist, saw a similar truth through another lens. “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are,” he said, observing that genuine transformation occurred only in those who treated their psyche as though it were sacred. Whether or not the psyche was objectively “numinous” (spiritual) was irrelevant. What mattered was the respect such a sacred attitude cultivated: the seriousness with which one met oneself made all the difference.

And William James, the American philosopher and founder of modern psychology, brought it down to practice: “Act as though what you do makes a difference. It does.” For James, truth was not something to be possessed but something tested by its fruits. To live “as though” something matters is, in a sense, what makes it matter.

So our “as though” is not a fantasy. It is a tool. It is how we orient ourselves toward reality, how we reframe, how we decide what is possible, and how we keep moving. The real question is not whether your “as though” is true, but whether it is wholesome and useful. Does it serve your growth, empower you, and benefits those around you?

In therapy, this is often where the work begins. To see your story as though it were not inevitable, not a given. It is to recognise that you could, at any moment, choose to live as though something else were true. The “as though” is not just a stance; it is agency itself.