Being Your Own Parent

Over the course of years, I’ve slowly determined that most of my flaws and ugliest tendencies are simply the things my parents let me get away with as a child. I say this not to shirk responsibility, but because I think we often flatter ourselves and over complicate the causes of our pathology.

Whatever flaws I see in others I fast find in myself, among them a certain brattiness that masquerades as sophisticated angst or existential frustration. I look back at the style of temper-tantrum or pouting I performed as a kid, and catch myself doing a grown up version when things don’t go my way.

My parents let me retreat into my comfortable spaces far too often. I was allowed to retreat when I should have been helped up and told to get on with it. My room was a refuge, and when I didn’t play well with others I had toys and gadgets to replace them. That privilege granted me the luxury of an early introversion that probably had even less utility then than now.  The benefit of such an early start was that eventually, introspection got boring, like mining the same stone, again and again, allowing me to be frank about what was once hidden and unknown.

They say our personality is locked in by age 4. But what you can observe you can measure, and what you can measure you can change. I’ve put myself on a steady diet of self-observance, and in many ways become the stern parent for myself.

Being willing to do this dirty work might give me a fighting chance at changing course a bit, correcting the things that should have been corrected some time far back on an elementary school play ground.

Sometimes it feels a bit like watching a nature documentary where I myself am simultaneously the subject and viewer.

I’m not saying it’s fun. But it just might work.

The Good News

The good news is this isn’t some random mass of atoms, arranged by chance, without moral or logical consideration.

The other good news is that the previous statement is substantiated by scientific research.

The Universe, and more specifically at the level pertaining to Earth, Biology, is constrained by principles that become apparent at any non-quantum level of analysis. We look at fossils and wonder why every skeleton, from the smallest mouse to the largest whale looks so strangely similar.

We look at neurons, rivers, veins, and insect architecture, seeing the same patterns again and again.

That’s all well and good. But how does it help us in our daily lives?

The human mind is as much part of the Universe as a river and as the billions of neurons that are its collective components. Thus it too behaves according to metaphysical principles, though due to our pesky friend free will, we have some choice in the matter. The principles are not obvious, though we submit to them no matter our personal attitudes. But the human mind has the privilege of being able to fool itself. We trick ourselves into perceived positions of power, depression, anxiety, and frustration. Rarely in this day and age do we simply trust our biology and act without considerations for the ego and our cherished self-conceptions.

When lacking any sense of destiny or purpose, it’s best to trust in your ancestors. Each and every one of us come from a long line of competent, reproductively successful humans,  and before that, organisms of all kinds. Do you really think that was some sort of a coincidence or a mistake? By any measure, we are the best designed, most complex, best-equipped organisms on the planet. What good does it do us to wallow inside our heads, imagining potential futures, past failures, and present insecurities? What good would it do a termite? A chimpanzee? None at all. The termite builds, the chimpanzee gathers, the human innovates. Of course, this doe

None at all. The termite builds, the chimpanzee gathers, the human innovates. Of course, this doe

The termite builds, the chimpanzee gathers, the human innovates. All the tools are already inside your head. How much time have you wasted looking for them? How many days have been spent in idle regret or fantasy? And how many of those days are rationalized as “intellectual endeavors”?

We are animals. Animals with a brain so large and complex it can never hope to comprehend itself. So stop trying, and act.