What it Means to Climb

There're instances of callow misunderstanding passing us by imperceptibly as we navigate the psychosocial sapio-sphere. Always, we seem to endure the "hindsight = 20/20" experience when it's all too late. In reality, it seems patently obvious that this is true. We simply cannot know the right way to do things at all times, and typically we find the correct way only by learning the wrong way first. Fortunately, there is another direction we can take -- another game in which to place our bets. One that allows us to have hindsight now. The game is other people. We can learn and understand from the experiences and lives of others. Humans rely on each other and find narration in the voices of our friends and family -- this narration we record and play back later in the voice of our mind about the story of our lives. It's interesting, then, when we notice that we allow some voices to become louder than others; the mind picks up on the most emotionally salient - both positive and negative - and brings it to bear on us until we integrate the new perspective or fall victim to its persistent, quiet roar.

Recently, I've had a large number of guests visiting my new home. Everyone stayed several nights and shared the zone that acts as my tether - my "nest", evolutionarily speaking - as we indulged in each other's company. Every visiting individual or group created a special and positive experience that I won't soon forget, but I also noticed that I'd been cycling through perspectives with each set of guests -- seeing the world I inhabit (both inner and outer) through their filter. I realize now that in each case, I was also seeing myself through each of their eyes, and more often their words. Swimming in perceptions of reality that aren't yours can be taxing, especially if you don't realize you're doing it. To some extent, that's all many of us will ever do -- until we are suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of doubt that gives way to clarity at age 40. There we'll sit, faced with wading through the punishing waves of bygone years in a mid-life maelstrom that ends in a young new wife and a 'gently used' Porsche. However, if you take a moment to allow the pieces of others to fall softly into place, and ask yourself how much of you right now is merely the sound of those other people back then -- you'd likely be living in a storm that, at the very least, is more easily charted. The practice of forging a self-narrative is an endurance trial that's often too spooky for some to participate in -- for fear of discovering that they're actually too far or too short of whatever mark they'd been believing they should've been shooting for all their lives. I feel quite strongly that intermittently spending a large amount of one's time divulging one's own secrets to oneself is a necessity. Because if you'll remember from your own life: it's possible to want the wrong things, other peoples' voices can quickly become your own self-talk, and learning can hurt. It's all too easy to have a personal narrative comprised solely of negative experiences that push you away from your truest self, and the best life for that self. This isn't officially sanctioned clinical advice, but try having a shocking and honest conversation with you today. How much of you is just what you think other people see? How much of you is just words others have said clanging about in your inner-space?  You'll thank you later (when you're 40, probably).