Being a writer is a difficult thing to be. It’s almost like you have to isolate yourself to do it. Ryan Holiday talks about how important it is as a writer to have extremely good process. It’s your habits and rituals that good writing can emerge from. Sometimes I think maybe it’s easier to establish good habits and routine when I’m lonely. At least a part of me thinks it’d be easier, because there wouldn’t be another human’s needs in the way of my schedule. It’s interesting because in a way, I have to shut down a certain part of my brain to sit down and write. I’ve noticed that the happier I am, the more difficult it is to sit down alone and start typing. It’s odd because the more satisfied I am with my real life, the less satisfied I feel with what I write. It’s like I can’t think clearly when I’m happy, which is an interesting thing to recognize because it makes me appreciate sadness. It’s like it is easier to write in relation to just myself than it is to write when I am feeling almost like, a part of someone else — when I’m feeling so connected. I could possibly say that the more connected I feel to others, the less connected I feel to myself, but in reality that just isn’t true. Because one of the most interesting parts of possibly learning to love someone is that it really makes you take a look at yourself, and examine your shortcomings. It’s odd because in a way it is almost easier to keep your ego in check when you’re lonely because there isn’t anyone else there to challenge it. Oddly enough, it’s easier to lie to yourself about specific parts of your character than it is to lie to someone you love.
It also gives me the understanding that I am used to having a certain bit of sadness to me. It can even be grounding, for better or worse, because it’s such a comfortable feeling.
Which is not exactly the goal, but it’s interesting to think about. Like we’re all so comfortable in our sadness sometimes that we don’t realize it can be so much better if we just let it.
I know this sounds a little ridiculous, but it’s like I’m dumber when I’m happy.
I’ve noticed myself laughing at nearly everything lately. Like the wind. There is this one part of my walk home from work, this certain spot between buildings where the wind is always ferocious. I’ll just be minding my own business and I’ll feel the placement of my foot move slightly as I set it down because of how strong Mother Nature is. The funny thing is, it almost feels embarrassing. Like I am going to be blown down and I don’t want anyone to notice. But then I always look around at how other people are interpreting the wind, and I just find it wildly hilarious. We’re all so small and so not in control and really all battling the same things in different ways, and the fact that I feel almost this weird sense of embarrassment about life just being life turns into this wilding entertaining moment.
Because what is life if it isn’t embarrassing? All of life is embarrassing and at the same time, because we as humans share that — none of it is. We’re all just figuring it out.
But besides me being too happy to feel like I’m thinking clearly lately, there’s a much more interesting thought that has come out of this new sense of deep connection in my life. And maybe it’s so profound because I’ve felt so lonely and guarded for so long, but basically —
Through this deep feeling of connection, I feel like there isn’t this almost impulsive inducing scarcity. I can’t stress how important this is. It’s like I’m finally not lacking something so fundamental, and it’s making everything else so much habitually easier. Which is scary, because what happens when that sense of connection changes? I guess that’s why whether you’re up or down, it’s important not to sit too long in any one feeling. Just ride the wave so you can appreciate both the ups and downs.
This whole scarcity thing though — it’s almost like when I was a kid and my mom would buy ice cream, something we never kept in the house. So when we did get it, we would literally eat all of it in just a day. Our brains were just primed to freak out and binge because it was something we thought wasn’t going to ever be there again.
On the first date I ever went on with this new guy, he took me to this place called Tsunami for sushi. I know this sounds dumb, but sitting down at an actual table, not the bar, and having a proper dinner is something I hadn’t done in awhile. There was a process to it.
I’m not quite sure if what I’m going to say next makes sense, but at one point when I went to the bathroom, he ordered a bottle of sake. I don’t know what it was about that that I liked so much. I guess because we already had other drinks and it wasn’t really necessary, and more so just apart of the whole sushi experience. Something about that gesture gave me this great sense of peace. It’s as if any anxiety diminished because it signaled to me that he didn’t exactly have any expectation of me. We didn’t need the sake. There was no point to the sake. Just like maybe there was no point of the date, no end result either of us were seeking, but instead we were just there to enjoy the process of it all.
Like there was something about this abundance that signaled me to not feel as if I was expected to use up all of my resources or something. It’s as if my brain relaxed because it knew it could have more. There wasn’t a scarcity, but it wasn’t even exactly about the sake, it was more so what the sake represented.
But anyway.
He actually recommended this book, which I have been meaning to read, called 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos by Jordan Peterson. Now I haven’t gotten very far, but currently Peterson is talking a lot about dominance and how this nearly subconscious pecking order has been around for quite a long time. He mentions lobsters, which I had no earthly idea had been around for 480 million years. To put it simply, there are all these processes within the lobster hierarchy, and in the case of fighting each other, if the duel advances to physical combat wherein one lobster tries to flip the other on its back, eventually the lobster that is defeated HAS TO GROW A NEW BRAIN TO COPE. Its brain LITERALLY disintegrates and it grows a new brain to deal with its new social status. And regardless of whether this is what happens in humans — because it’s obviously not exact, the way that dominance is paralleled between both animals and humans just shows that this has been around for quite some time. We may not grow a new brain when we lose, but you can’t deny the fact that you may look at yourself as less which will in turn make you act like you’re less.
It goes on to talk about social hierarchy and how those on the bottom of the ladder are more adept to seek out things that make them feel good automatically. They can’t delay gratification because they don’t know how long the opportunity is going to be there. Which I feel like mirrors my idea of scarcity. Because regardless of what you’re lacking, whether it be food, connection, money, etc., that lack manifests itself in the same way. So without even realizing it, living in scarcity makes us on constant high alert and incredibly reactive.
“When operating at the bottom, the ancient brain counter assumes that even the smallest unexpected impediment might produce an uncontrollable chain of negative events, which will have to be handled alone, as useful friends are rare indeed, on society’s fringes.”
“It will render you impulsive, so that you will jump, for example, at any short term mating opportunities, or any possibilities of pleasure, no matter how sub-par, disgraceful or illegal.”
It’s just crazy that this lack of status that can lead to a scarcity mindset can also lead to this inferior sense of connection with other human beings.
There’s this need to binge that comes out of scarcity. This impulsive, take all you can mindset. And as such social creatures, I think we recognize that in other people subconsciously.
On the other hand, how amazing is it that when we feel our needs are met we can actually relax and build connections because we aren’t on this subconscious high alert. Having your needs met enables you to open up and really connect. When you sense a scarcity in your life, your brain goes into survival.
Fuck, that is complicated. I don’t even understand it fully. I feel like I can’t communicate it adequately or make the connection between my thoughts thoroughly. Regardless, I’m grateful to not feel like I am lacking anything currently. And when it changes, which it likely will, I’m going to be grateful for that as well. Because I always feel like when you’re feeling super up, you should be humble about it because the only way left is down. Just like when you’re feeling down you should have hope, because the only way out is up. Kinda like self sabotage. Have you ever fucked something up just so you could make it right? Maybe not consciously, but I know I’ve definitely been there.
I need someone to bounce this around with, honestly.