That Which Does Not Kill You.

The other day, I was driving home from my office. If I have to do something, like driving in traffic, I try to make the most out of that time. To do that with driving, my go to solution is an audiobook or a podcast.

On this drive, the podcast was Making Sense hosted Sam Harris. The particular episode was a conversation with Douglas Rushkoff. A brief google search will show you the impressive and illustrious history of both these men. Prior to listening to this episode, I didn’t know who Mr Rushkoff was. I admire Sam Harris and given the description Sam gave in the introduction as well as simply by the merit of Sam having him on his show, I couldn’t help but admire Mr Rushkoff as well.

As the conversation progresses, Mr Rushkoff discusses a wide range of topics from internet trade and the currency of companies like facebook. It was such an interesting and though provoking conversation but that’s not what I’m trying to talk about here. The content of the conversation, while fascinating, is not what concerns me here.

It’s Scary Out There, In The Dark.

As I listened to the conversation, I noticed in myself an ebb and flow of emotion. Specifically, it was an ebb and flow of anxiety. As I listened to the conversation unfold, there were moments when I wanted to simply turn the podcast off or switch to a different episode. I rolled my eyes, thought to myself , “Jesus christ not this again”, and reached for the dial. I wasn’t quite sure why this was happening. I had no problem with Rushkoff or Harris. I found the conversation very engaging to listen to. I admire and respect Sam and by extension, Douglas. I’m still not sure why I admire Douglas as I have not read anything he’s written or heard about him before. Simply by association to and the esteem to which I hold Sam as well as the calibre of the guests he’s had on his show, has influenced my perception of Douglas.

So, as the conversation between these two men, who I admire, continued this anxiety kept rearing its head like a gopher poking out of a hole in the ground. As I thought about it, I started to realize what was happening.

I was scared.

Here we have two men who I believe to know what they are talking about. Very learned, articulate and insightful people who I believe to have done the research and bloody well know more , and more deeply, than I do. At the same time, I have my own strongly held beliefs. Beliefs that I would not hesitate to vomit on to my friends if given even the remote opening over dinner.

As the conversation progressed, these two men touched on things that I have strong opinions (loosely held) on. Things I believe that I know a thing or two about. And as they touched on these things, they also got dangerously close to showing me that I have no idea — that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface. And that is scary. I realized that I was having a reaction, subconsciously, not to the content of what they were saying but to the mere fact that what they were saying was different to what I believed to be true — beliefs that I used to orient myself in the world — to make decisions. I wasn’t getting anxious and dismissive because I knew better than them. Rather, I was having an emotional reaction to the possible incongruence between my world view and what these folks, whom I admire, were postulating. Every time they came to a conclusion that I too held as truth, a feeling of relief rushed over me.

Look Out For The Cliff

It appears to me that our minds are very well suited to knowing when are at the edge. It appears to me that, as far as the brain is concerned, a cliff can be physical manifestation or a psychological, abstract one that you’re getting close to. Either way, it has the same reaction — What the fuck are you doing?

I wonder how many decisions I have made, out of fear, this emotional reaction to an incongruence between my version of reality and that of others while believing that I am making a dismissal based on the self evident truth of what I understand. How often was I just scared instead of right?

Besides, who wants to be scared all the time? It’s not crazy to want one fundamental truth to hold on to. A firm, unchanging truth that is unaffected by circumstance. Perhaps I should be a little more empathetic of people who are unwilling to contend themselves with things that they don’t understand. It takes time, effort and energy. It’s exhausting.

You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide.

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

What the above quote also means is that a way (maybe the only way) to get stronger is to face something that might kill us!

I have to start valuing having better information over being right and that’s a sacrifice, a painful sacrifice, that has to often be made. It’s akin to the removal of an infected limb. I am not making a qualitative statement on the similarity. I am only making the case that it’s no less terrifying. And, given that it is terrifying, I think those of us who are able to recognize this fear should be a little more empathetic of those who we find to shy away. It’s not trivial and it’s not easy.

That being said, facing that anxiety and willingly putting myself in a situation where I might be proved wrong might be the best weapon against the eroding nature of a static existence. It also means keeping my mouth shut and listening like the other person might know something I don’t because, you can run but you can’t hide. It’s better to update my reality in small incremental steps, getting stronger with each iteration, than hide and wait for mismatch to wipe me out.