There is an idea which I come back to again and again and again on this blog: how we are taught to live our lives under the pressure of meeting certain standards (frequently impossible ones at that) prescribed by society. I am not alone in experiencing the burden of such pressure, and at the risk of cosplaying a “self-help guru”, I choose to write about this experience repeatedly to sort of remind myself why it’s so crucial to challenge some of the ideas that we have almost completely absorbed into our culture and way of life. As humans, we have an inflated ego that fixates on leaving our marks in life, either through selfish hedonism (“I want power and wealth and all that is desirable!”) or a misguided inclination for moral grandstanding (“I need to save the world and be a hero for it!”). The truth is, humans as a species is just a node in a vast web of entities in existence. Furthermore, each one of us is so minuscule even in the mass of humankind, let alone the much larger universe that hosts this planet. It makes little sense to place so much emphasis on the trivialities of our lives that mean so little beyond our self-absorbed existence.
The scale of our being aside, the notion that how we choose to live can prove anything to anyone is simply absurd. Growing up, which school or job I end up in seemed to be of immeasurable significance. At several points in childhood and adolescent years, one’s popularity or social life would also appear to be the single most crucial factor of one’s existence. As adults, people feel the need to broadcast their wealth and accomplishments as badges of worthiness. Each new generation coming along further adds to a self-replenishing vacuum of options for people to prove themselves with. Everything is put on the table for show: pay, status, material possessions, popularity, physical attractiveness (you know, the basic stuff), as well as things that don’t typically carry a negative connotation such as charity, good will, friendships, and the affection one has for their family and loved ones (parenting is apparently a major territory to brag about today, or perhaps it has always been). We all blindly march along to this practice of seeking to impress, like an army of robots programmed for narcissism and personal ostentation. What does it serve? What do we get from trying to prove these parts of us to others?
From an evolutionary point of view, many of the things we compete over can indeed be fundamental for our survival – as measures of fitness, perhaps. Money for example secures one’s basic needs and quite possibly strengthens other mechanisms that further shield the individual from any threats or harms. Sometimes social popularity also serves as a currency of strength that allows an individual to have protection, a network of support, and even to cast an influence on others. Good will (the genuine type) engenders reciprocal amity that can enhance the chance of survival for every party involved. There is no doubt that underlying each of these elements is an evident benefit for not just individual survival but also collective existence. What I find baffling about our current way of living is in fact how, along the path of merely securing our capacity to survive, we have fallen a bit too deep into a pit of irrational self-advertisement and performance. Imagine: we keep digging the pit that goes no where into the ground, and it only ever takes us further and further away from our initial track on the surface. Does showing off about ourselves realistically support anything but a pedestal for our illusory ego? Perhaps it even hurts our ability to be a decent and empathetic human being when our narcissism gets out of control.
I am not calling for a cultural revolution that involves quitting work in this money-and-status-obsessed society, throwing away every material possession we own, or purposefully renouncing all friendships to become a voluntary hermit (some other folks have already done that). I don’t hope we essentially just flip every single “social standard” for success/happiness/personal worth on its head to worship the opposite aspiration. Maybe that’s a worthy experiment (lol), but it’s not my point today nor have I even thought about what that could possibly mean. All I want to suggest we start pondering is the possibility of not getting consumed by the performance aspect of all these qualities we cherish so much in life. Even when humans are deemed “social animals” (which we are) and even IF humans are inherently built to crave social rewards or validation, I doubt we have to turn every aspect of our lives into a stage to shine spotlights on for such sociality to transpire. In our attempt to live life as if it were a performance, we may: (1) mechanically endorse homogeneous “norms” of living that simply don’t support our individual contentment without questioning them, (2) miss out on the pure enjoyment of an activity because we care more about how people perceive us, (3) nurture more narcissism in society and raise a new generation of shallow egomaniacs. So far I have yet to touch on the second point, but recently this has had a direct impact on my own life. Take blogging as an example: whenever I feel a surge in the pressure to “perform” or to prove my abilities through blogging somehow, I lose all joy in the writing process and dodge from the activity for fear of not living up to whatever arbitrary standard that exists out there.
I don’t think we can ever be fully exempt from the temptation to impress unnecessarily, and I will still continue to subconsciously do things that appeal to external validation (am I ironically trying to come across as a smart-ass by calling out humanity like this? Maybe?). As with most other reflections I write, I conclude this piece with a mention of self-awareness, which I take for an essential factor in trying to at least resist all of our deep-rooted, hard-to-shake tendencies. Writing this repetitive idea has helped me meditate over why I’m struggling to enjoy what I do and reminded me of the persistent challenge we face with social norms, even if this post didn’t deliver the best “performance” it could have.