Why You Care So Much
I made my first video on this channel in July 2017 after months of going back and forth on whether or not I actually wanted to create a YouTube channel. What would people think? What if people hate the videos and tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about? Who am I to talk about these topics? These were the thoughts that flooded my head. If you've ever been in a situation where you have to start something or give a presentation in front of a group of people, then I'm sure you've had a similar emotion.
It's the fear of being judged, the fear that keeps us in chains and holds us bound from achieving our true potential. To understand why we care so much about what others think about us, we have to go back to the beginning of human history. Man, like many other animals, evolved to be social. Our survival was dependent on close-knit communities, tribes, and clans. We would hunt together, make shelter, and protect one another from predators should they dare strike. Being together made us thrive.
So at the time, being cast out of the clan almost always meant death. Without the technologies we have today, making shelter, hunting, and protecting yourself from wildlife was almost impossible for one person to do alone. Sadly, even now that our society has evolved to a point where we no longer have to worry about predators and we have the tools and resources to provide food, clothing, and shelter for ourselves, the need to be part of a group still has been maladapted to our current reality.
Then, we were scared of being left out in the cold; today, we're scared of getting canceled on Twitter because of something we said, or getting insulted for repeating clothes on Instagram, or getting hate comments on your YouTube video of people telling you your voice is becoming redundant and boring. You see, this feeling of being ostracized has worsened woefully because of social media. By creating likes and dislikes, we brought to light this need to feel validated and seen.
In an instant, you can see just how many people support you, and that number can be addicting. It gets to the point to where we stop saying what we really want to say and instead start saying the things we know will get us the most likes. Before you know it, you're posting certain thoughts, photos, and writing specific statements to get that attention and validation from others.
How many times have you seen your favorite influencers and creators online suddenly sell out where it feels like they're no longer authentic, only doing or saying the things they know will please the algorithm? I made a video about Unit 731 and the despicable things the Japanese government did in the Second World War; however, because it was not advertiser-friendly content according to YouTube, the video didn't perform extremely well. And that's fine.
This is the kind of social conditioning that makes people fall in line and stop saying anything that might offend the people with money. It's like they tell you there's freedom of speech, but only when your microphone is turned off. Growing up, I always felt different. Of course, I had friends and wanted to be part of the social group, but I had questions about the universe that people just didn't like to discuss.
Who wants to talk about death and the afterlife on the school playground, after all? Because of that, I felt different from everyone else, like a piece of a puzzle but from another set. And so, I grew up worried that everyone would see me as weird and different, so I tried my best to hide my existential dread to fit in like everyone else.
If you're watching this video right now, there's a high chance that you were also once a kid like me who was so worried about being disliked that you shielded the real you just so you wouldn't be thought of as different. If you're still in that position, listen: Stop caring so much about what other people think and start living your life authentically. Yes, caring what others think is healthy; however, it becomes harmful when we try to change ourselves just to be liked by others.
You would enjoy your time on this floating rock far more if you choose to live your authentic self, and if someone rejects you because of it, you'll know that they were never meant for you in the first place. Now, if that sounds like a lofty dream and not really grounded in reality, I understand because the sad truth of this entire thing is that we do need to be judged fairly by others. At its core, that's what makes our society work. We agree that something is law, and whoever breaks it gets judged.
We agree on certain moral principles, and whoever breaks them gets socially ostracized. We're judged at our places of work, in school, in our society as a whole. As sad as it sounds, gossip and ostracism helped the greater good of the group. In 2014, Stanford Professor Rob Willer led a study that explored the relation of gossip and ostracism to the harmony and functionality of experimental groups. In this study, Rob found out that groups that allowed their members to gossip and fold out underperforming members were able to sustain cooperation and prevent selfishness much better than groups that weren't allowed to do so.
When we think of ostracism, we almost always see it in a bad light; however, the study proved that it does have a much more important role in preventing the weak and vulnerable from being bullied and trampled upon. Have you ever been in a group for a school project only to quickly realize that there's one person who just wouldn't do anything because they know the group will pick up their slack? How's that make you feel?
Now imagine you could remove these people from the group and then gossip to other groups about how bad of a team player they are. It might seem harsh at first, but because of our innate fear of being ostracized, more often than not, these people would see the reality of what they're doing and actually act better when reinvited into the group. It also prevents these selfish people from exploiting the more vulnerable people in the group and allows them to reach their full potential without fear of being taken advantage of.
The researchers concluded that exclusion compelled participants to conform to the more cooperative behavior of the rest of the group. So yes, we need to be good team players for the proper functioning of society. However, being part of a group should never be at the expense of our own individuality. We should never get so scared of being ostracized that we do not say the things that matter to us for the fear of being judged.
We need to realize that we will get to a point in our lives where we'll begin to assess everything that we've been taught as children. When you start to outgrow old beliefs and walk into new ones, do not be held back by the fear of what everyone who you grew up with would think. Caring about what other people think is necessary for the proper functioning of society, but when caring about what other people think affects our abilities to make decisions for ourselves, that's when you need to pause and reconsider.
You're a person with your own thoughts, ideas, dreams, and goals. Don't let the fear of being disliked hold you back from expressing that you want to drop out of school to become a comedian. What would people think? You want to start a YouTube channel? What would people think? You want to be with someone from a different culture or religion? What would people think? This one question holds so many people back from doing what they love. It's like a chain that binds our neck and leaves us no room to breathe.
We're like circus elephants held back by a rope that might only exist in our imagination. Ultimate freedom is having the courage to be disliked; the boldness to stand firm in what you believe in even when the crowd is saying something else; the courage to stand when everyone else is sitting and run when everyone else is standing; the courage to be your authentic self regardless of what everyone around you tells you to be.
Instead, developing the courage to be disliked is not easy. Remember that it's in our nature to care what other people think, so to stray from that even minutely would mean going against our very own biology, and that's never very easy. But the good news is that we can actually do it. The first and most important thing to realize is that everyone, just like you, is worried about their own insecurities.
When we go out into the world, we're often so consumed with our own insecurities that we feel like everyone else is thinking about us and condemning us. But the reality is, more often than not, just like you, people are so worried about themselves that they aren't really thinking about anyone else. And when they do speak out against us, they're often projecting their insecurities on us, trying to bring us down to feel better about themselves.
Don't let them do that. The difference between ostracization in early humans and what we have today is that with the early humans, it was only your closest relatives and members of your clan that could cast you out. However, today, because of social media, anyone and everyone can have an opinion about us, share that opinion, and we're forced to take notice of it.
The problem with this is that we're taking criticism from people we wouldn't take advice from. Think about it: If you wouldn't let the stranger into your house for fear of invading your privacy, why would you let them into your head, the most private place of all? Sometimes, the people judging you and not letting you live your true potential aren't strangers. They're childhood friends and relatives.
When that's the case, we need to remind ourselves that the consequences of living outside the group are not as sinister as it used to be. You have the tools and resources to thrive away from your primary group, and in fact, you can find another group to join, one that would accept you for who you are and not try to force you into being something you're not.
I know I've said some negative things about social media in this video and many others, but there are some positives as well. In this scenario where you no longer feel part of the group you were born into or grew up in, the internet offers you a community of people who are willing to accept you from all over the world. You just have to take the time to find them.
Lao Tzu wrote, "In caring about people's approval, you will be their prisoner." The courage to be disliked is the key that opens the prison doors and sets you free to be the person you've always wanted to be. Has anyone ever accused you of acting like you're the center of the universe? Maybe you were 10 years old, upset that your mom wouldn't take you to buy candy, or you were so focused on an upcoming project that you totally forgot to wish your coworker congratulations on their promotion.
It happens to the best of us. Most of us are wired to be a little selfish; we evolved to survive after all. Airlines even tell us to secure our oxygen masks before our children's. But being reprimanded by our parents or a friend for being a little self-obsessed is different from feeling like we are truly the only person who exists. What would that be like?
Everyone and everything else being a figment of our imagination—actually being the center of the universe? It seems like a fun what-if game to play, but if you think about it long enough, could it make sense? Are you sure the phone you're holding in your hands is even real? Could you be certain that the woman you just bought a coffee from was indeed there?
The only thing we can be certain of is our own mind; at least that's what the philosophy of solipsism tells us. Solipsism is an extreme type of skepticism that anything external from our minds does not exist. The outside world, other people, their thoughts and emotions simply don't exist outside of our perception of them. Solipsism is presented as an explanation for what the external world actually is.
It basically says it isn't anything—it's make-believe, imaginary, literally in our heads. The house we live in, the people we love, the car we drive, and the food we eat—they are our perception. The sky, the moon, the whole solar system are merely figments of our own minds. Solipsism equates the existence of anything with one's personal experiences, thoughts, emotions, and behaviors—they are the only things we can be certain of as individuals.
It tells us that we are indeed the center of the universe. Many philosophers have argued similar ideas to solipsism, trying to solve the gap between our perception of things and their actual existence. For example, George Berkeley similarly wanted to know if things we did not see actually existed. He asked the classic question: If a tree falls in the woods and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a noise?
He answered, "No," that something like the noise the tree makes only exists if someone can perceive it. But he didn't go as far as solipsism takes us. He felt that solipsists were actually absurd. He reasoned that if a solipsist thinks their mind is the only thing in existence, then it can't be perceived by anything or anyone else. If it can't be perceived, then it cannot exist. If the only thing that existed was the mind and its perception, then the actual world wouldn't be there, and then we'd be—what, nothing?
Maybe we would live in The Matrix, living in an illusion, a figment of someone else's perception that only some know isn't real. But the thing about the idea of The Matrix, or for that matter, solipsism in general, is that it doesn't really appeal to common sense. We know that our dog exists because we just do. Solipsism is more about logic; we can think to ourselves, "I only have direct access to the contents of my own mind."
Sensory experiences, thoughts, and memories—these contents are completely private. I might share them, but no one really knows them besides me. At the same time, I'm unable to access anyone else's mind, so I can only infer their existence indirectly. Therefore, the only thing of certainty is that my mind exists. We can't logically assert anything else, so we end up sealed in this prison cell of our perception of the world around us.
We experience our own mind in every single moment of our lives but simply assume that other people are having the same lived experience. We will never be sure that they actually possess thoughts and emotions like we do. Natural selection gave us the capacity for theory and the ability to intuit other people's emotions and intentions. It also gave us the ability to deceive one another in fear that we are being deceived.
Ironically, wouldn't the ultimate deception be pretending to be conscious when someone is not? Solipsism prevents us from knowing if this deception is actually happening by reminding us that the intentions of other people and things can never truly be known. We lack what neuroscientist Kristoff Koch calls a "Consciousness meter," a device that would measure consciousness in the same way that a thermometer measures temperature. Without any sort of instrument, we rely on our own preconceptions that other human consciousness is akin to our own.
Because the elusive consciousness meter is an impossibility, theories of consciousness like solipsism are endless and completely speculative. There are different degrees of solipsism that answer that question. For example, metaphysical solipsism tells us that definitely the self is the only existing reality. But then there's methodological solipsism, which goes even further and says that the brain is actually a part of the external world because it only exists in response to what is on the outside.
In this branch of philosophy, the only thing that is certain are thoughts; therefore, we can reject solipsism but still understand that the feeling of being estranged from others and perhaps confronting the idea that we are alone. There's no way to know if what we perceive exists outside our minds. Could we fully be dreaming our world? Solipsism tells us that we might be.
It rejects the idea that we can assume the existence of other people's consciousness and presents something known as "the problem of other minds." The problem of other minds is the basis of solipsism. It says that since we can't enter other people's heads and see the world from their point of view, it's impossible to prove that they exist. We can't feel their sadness, anger, or joy. We can, though, understand that our emotions are real.
When someone dies, we feel the pit of deep grief inside of us. When we fall in love, it feels like an explosion inside our consciousness. We know that these feelings are real because, well, we feel them. What about other people's feelings? One of the criticisms of solipsism is its close relation to narcissism. Recently, it seems like you can't go on your phone, watch TV, or even have a conversation with a friend without the idea of self-care coming up.
For some, this might just mean a weekly yoga class or enjoying a face mask before they go to bed. But the line is thin between extreme self-care and self-worship. Putting ourselves first can be healthy, but valuing only ourselves leads to broken relationships, isolation, and even struggles with mental health. Unfortunately, for those who believe in solipsism, the philosophy supports the rather narcissistic idea that our mind is the only mind that matters.
This can therefore be defined as self-centered, putting our worldviews, mental states, and opinions above everyone else because if our mind is the only one that is sure to exist, why wouldn't we? Now, of course, most people can discern between their own thoughts and emotions and those of their friends, family, coworkers, and even strangers. This idea called "mentalization" is the ability to suspend what you know or perceive so you can acknowledge someone else's experience—basically to have empathy and put yourself in someone else's shoes.
It can be hard. Our world is more divided than it's ever been. It seems impossible sometimes to accept someone else's point of view, especially if it's contrary to your own. But stepping outside of our experience and accepting different perspectives is one way to avoid the pitfalls of narcissism. Solipsism, however, says we can't do this. It tells us that we can't look beyond ourselves to see these other perspectives because that person, their mind, and their view of the world simply do not exist.
Like anything, solipsism can be taken to the extreme, in what's known unofficially as "solipsism syndrome." A person feels that the only reality is the reality of their mind. Actual reality isn't real; they might feel plagued by feelings of loneliness, detachment, or indifference to anything outside their own thoughts. Restricted to looking at the world from a single window, solipsism syndrome isn't officially recognized by the American Psychiatric Association, but disorders like depersonalization and derealization disorder describe similar symptoms.
These issues of mental health can go even further in solipsism OCD, when someone has OCD they have intrusive thoughts, urges, visions, and fears that preoccupy elements of their life. Solipsism OCD is when those intrusive thoughts all revolve around the idea that you might be all alone in this universe. Imagine that for a moment: feeling trapped in a make-believe world, questioning everything you see, hear, and feel from anyone or anything you encounter over the course of your entire life.
It's a scary thought, and a lonely one too. When people suffer from solipsism OCD, they experience never-ending doubt and work day in and day out to find some sort of proof that they aren't alone. Their lives become a cycle of questioning and fear; they'll seek reassurance from other people that their mind isn't the only mind. Of course, the theories behind solipsism tell us that reassurance in the form of someone else can never exist.
Like solipsism syndrome, solipsism OCD tends to be found in people who spend long periods of time alone. Think about astronauts who live in space sometimes alone. Then here on Earth, there are people who constantly turn inward and lose their connection with others by relying on their own minds. This makes them become convinced that their mind might be alone in this universe.
Because of these potential extremes, there's always been an attempt to refuse solipsism. Logical rejection has proven elusive; solipsism is, after all, squarely based in logic. Instead, people argue against its likelihood rather than trying to prove a reasoned rebuttal. We might ask the question: How could a single mind conjure up an endless universe of experiences, items, people, and places?
This video you're watching right now, the Mona Lisa, the Berlin Wall, your mother, your pet, your job—everything out there created by some deep inaccessible part of our mind seems unlikely. Some more specific rejections of solipsism come in religion. If a god exists, then he, she, or it watches over us and knows our thoughts. This means that we can't be isolated in our own experience.
We'll always have a higher power than our own mind. Art also offers a counter to solipsism by striving to tell us how someone else feels. Art presents opportunities for empathy. Art even explores the depths of one's own mind just like solipsism does. In Charlie Kaufman's film "I'm Thinking of Ending Things," other people are just projections of the disturbed protagonist. Kaufman asks us to think about what it might feel like to question the existence of everything but ourselves.
Art is a way of venting our own anxiety about the idea that we might be alone in the world. And perhaps that venting is our way of avoiding narcissism or something even worse. What might be the ultimate rebuttal to solipsism? Maybe love. Love is transcendent between two minds, and it's the feeling of knowing someone else from the inside and feeling like they know you in the same way. This extreme emotional connection breaks the barrier between two consciousnesses.
However, even in love, that barrier can come back up just long enough to remind us that we are indeed separate from the other person. And in that moment of separation, do we come back to your existential question: Are they all in our head? But without descending into existential fear, what can we take away from the ideas behind solipsism? We can understand that we will always face the limitations of our own reasoning.
We can't refute an idea like solipsism, so we just have to let it exist as a possibility. We can't escape our own minds; we can't step outside ourselves no matter how hard we try, and we'll only ever experience life with the minds that we have. But maybe that's reassuring and even motivating—that we only get one mind so we might as well embrace it and use it to its full capacity.
With that one mind, might we diffuse the power of a singular idea like solipsism? Because solipsism demands certainty, it says unrealistic expectations for knowledge. Maybe we can't rule it out, but we can't rule out a lot of stuff like Bigfoot or aliens. In fact, we aren't actually certain about most things, but that doesn't mean we don't accept them as true. We embrace our loved ones as full humans with emotions and consciousness that we try to be kind to.
We look at beautiful mountains with wonder and think about the millions of years of erosion and weather that went into making them. We are experts at living without certainty; it's what we do every day. So if the mind is the only thing that is certain, as solipsism tells us, maybe we can enjoy that one bit of fact. But beyond our mind, there's a lot of uncertainty that we can embrace rather than fear.
On the 23rd of March 2016, Microsoft released a new chatbot named Tay on Twitter, described by Microsoft as an experiment in conversational understanding. Tay was built to have conversations with people through tweets and DMs, with the slang of the internet. In the words of its creators, Tay was meant to be, and I quote, "Microsoft's AI fam from the internet that's got zero chill."
Tay was designed to learn more about human language as she interacted with people through their tweets. She was to learn the patterns of our communication and then emulate it when trying to create her own speech. Tay's first few tweets were fun and harmless; however, in just a few hours, everyone was in horror as Tay started tweeting the most offensive things imaginable—things along the lines of, and again I quote, "Bush did 9/11" and "Hitler would have done a better job."
In just 16 hours, Tay tweeted 95,000 times, with a majority of her tweets being extremely abusive and offensive. In less than a day, Microsoft had to suspend the account and the entire experiment—a complete social failure, if you ask me. But it did do its job, the way it was programmed to do. Tay was not designed to think for herself; she was built to learn from the language that was spoken to her.
And so when people recognized that she was nothing more than a parrot bot, they intentionally started tweeting the most insensitive and offensive things at her tweets she echoed right back into the world. Sadly, many people today are like Tay; we constantly feed ourselves with the same type of information and, without pausing for a minute to verify what is fact and form an unbiased opinion, many of us simply echo everything we think right back into the world.
Although we like to think that every opinion we have and every decision we make is down to our own best judgment and independent assessment, that's simply not true. More often than not, our opinions, beliefs, views, and thoughts about the world are influenced by a larger group of people. Research has shown that when presented with multiple options, we often mimic the choice of the people around us rather than spending time researching, asking questions, or learning about the different options to find out the best one for us.
We often defer to the social norm. This is how humans have always been; we are social animals, after all. However, now more than ever, it's becoming more and more important to think for yourself. A few decades ago, we only had a handful of different thoughts that we were exposed to, so it was easy to filter all of them and figure out what was right for us. But thanks to the internet and social media, there are billions of people with completely different worldviews, ideologies, and beliefs, and the societal norm is changing so rapidly that there's no time to pause and think, "Wait, is this really right for me?"
If you're not subscribed to my channel, there's a high chance that the YouTube algorithm brought you here. And if that's the case, hi! You see, algorithms are great; they bring everything we want right to our doorsteps. But there's one big problem: Slowly, they're beginning to dictate our lives. They're starting to think for us. First, it's content-based platforms like YouTube and Netflix suggesting things to you to watch. Soon you're watching everything not because you searched for it, but because the algorithm suggested it.
To a large extent, this looks harmless; it exposes you to content you otherwise might not have seen and gives smaller creators the chance to blow up without having an established pedigree. It's literally the reason that Aperture has grown to the size it's at today. But then you have Amazon's algorithm that tells you all the products you should add to your cart alongside the one purchase you made, then Gmail smart reply telling you how to reply to emails, and Tinder telling you who you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with.
Before you know it, we give the algorithm the driver's seat and we become passengers in our own lives, merely coasting through the roads we are suggested. This in and of itself is a problem, but the fact that the algorithm is not perfect makes it an even bigger one. For one, the algorithms that are now thinking for us don't actually think; they simply find patterns and parrot them.
Once they realize we like or agree with a certain thing, we are constantly fed with that one thing, and in a short while, we find ourselves in an echo chamber where everything we see and hear are only things we've agreed with in the past. It doesn't give much room for change, for growth, for the opportunity to listen to opposing arguments and learn. Think about it: How many times have you randomly found a video on YouTube that you completely disagreed with? Compare that to how many times you found a video that you enjoyed and completely agreed with.
The difference is probably incredible. And the better the algorithms become, the better they would be at serving you that information that you already agree with. This leads to a confirmation bias—the tendency to search for, interpret, favor, and recall information in a way that confirms or supports your prior beliefs or values. Because these algorithms constantly surround us with ideas that we already agree with, we quickly block our minds to every shred of evidence that contradicts this bias.
There's a subtle difference between the desire to have been right and the desire to be right. The desire to have been right prevents us from seeing the real truth, causing us to hold on to ideas that might be illogically and factually flawed. We fail to see how we're wrong, and so we fail to learn and grow. We hold on to beliefs that we have been surrounded by so much so that we start to seek out evidence to back up our bias and not to find out the truth.
The truth is that humans find it very difficult to process information in an unbiased and rational manner once they've developed strong feelings or sentiments about the issue. So people interpret everything they see in a way that already agrees with everything they know and believe about the world. Some people believe in something called extrasensory perception.
So for example, they remember all the times they were thinking about their mom and picked up their phone only to see that she was calling—it seems like fate in a way. But yet they forget all the times when mom called when they weren't thinking about her and the other times when they were thinking about mom but she never called. Because they believe so strongly in extrasensory perception, they are far more likely to remember instances that back up their claims, even when the instances that don't agree with those claims occur far more frequently.
To make our confirmation bias even worse, social media has created the influencer culture. People like me, apparently. Now not only do we look to each other for guidance, we look to influencers, gurus, and thought leaders because we consider these people part of our packs, more so than traditional celebrities. We often place them on incredibly high pedestals, giving them the opportunity to, well, influence us.
People buy a product because an influencer said so, even when the product might not be the best option for them. They employ unsafe dieting practices and workout routines just because an influencer said it'll work without doing the research for what works for their own body. People listen to fake gurus and influencers, and without taking the time to think for themselves, they do exactly what these people tell them to do, even if it's unhealthy and potentially dangerous.
One of the biggest reasons people no longer seem to think for themselves is because they are scared of the repercussions. How can you think for yourself when sharing ideas that are not in accordance with the societal norm gets you exiled from society? When you could lose your job, your education, everything you've ever worked for simply for thinking differently and expressing those different opinions? Yes, I'm talking about cancel culture.
The real victims of cancel culture are the ideas that will be left unsaid, the thoughts left in the mind for fear of extreme backlash. It's the beliefs that are only expressed in the dark, where the big bright eyes of Big Brother cannot see. To prevent the rats from coming out, Big Brother urges you to doublethink—to prevent yourself from getting canceled. A relatively new phenomenon in society urges you to groupthink. Coined by Irving Janis in 1972, groupthink simply means avoiding conflict by swiftly reaching an agreement without evaluating other options or alternative ideas.
It means to bend your back to the societal norm without giving other ideas a second thought. The danger of this is that our individuality and uniqueness dies, and the world moves to a point where we all collectively agree on the same ideas—no difference in thought, no individual ideas, just groupthink. But it doesn't have to be this way. To think for yourself is a skill you must learn; else, you become a puppet of someone else's programming. To think for yourself is to challenge your existing ideas, beliefs, and decisions.
Ask yourself: are my thoughts mine, or are they simply influenced by everyone around me—my friends, my parents, society, influencers, and so on? To think for yourself is to look at the evidence, to investigate into thoughtful analysis. Understand that all of us battle with confirmation bias; we all want to seem to fit in.
So remember to not shy away from ideas that might negate your existing bias. To think for yourself is to be with your mind—go out there and find the roots of the ideas you support and then find opposing arguments. Look at your newfound beliefs as diamonds encased in a rock. Before you get to the fine jewel in the middle, you must break through the rock with a lot of force, but carefully and diligently. Before you fully accept a new way of thinking, make sure that you've broken through the rock by wrestling with these new ideas in a way that might take you out of your comfort zone.
To think for yourself is to go out there in search of information. Don't wait for an algorithm to keep echoing the things you already know. Acquire new knowledge; feed your mind continuously by reading, listening, and discussing these big new ideas with a view from both sides. Break your pattern of thought and view everything the world has to say through your own lenses.
To think for yourself is to be humble in your knowledge. One of the reasons people fall into the trap of confirmation bias is that they don't want to be wrong. We've built this idea for some reason that we have to protect ourselves from being wrong. People seem to pride themselves as intellectuals and knowledgeable, and this confirming evidence goes against that notion, so they shy away from it, keeping themselves in the dark about the truth simply because they want to keep up the façade of being right.
Don't be scared of being wrong; there's literally nothing wrong with it. Remember, we used to think that the Earth was the center of the universe and that everything revolved around us. We're egocentric; we enjoy feeling important. Being right gives us that sense of superiority, but in my mind, I feel as if you should be more concerned about finding out what's right and not craving the state of being right.
To think for yourself is to be courageous—to not buckle under peer pressure or guilt, to stand up for what you believe in as long as you have come to see it as the truth for yourself. To think for yourself is standing out and not going along with the crowd simply for the sake of keeping the so-called peace and avoiding confrontation. Because the truth is, we would have no new scientific discovery if the old ideas were never challenged.
Everything we believe about the world today is a product of someone thinking outside of the box, challenging the status quo. We must do the same. Being a free thinker opens avenues to ideas that some of us may never truly experience, and new ideas are something we can all benefit from as individuals. There is no progress without change, and there is no change without admitting there's a problem in the first place.
What if I told you that you're an addict and you don't even know it? Don't worry; you're not alone. We all are—well, most of us at least. And here's a little experiment to prove it. Once this video ends, turn off your phone and leave it in a drawer for the next 24 hours. Do you think you can survive without it? If you're willing to give it a try, you're already among the few people courageous enough to do so.
Sadly, that doesn't mean it'll be easy. In the first few hours, you might experience a feeling of emptiness or anxiety. You might feel your phone vibrating in your empty pocket. You might involuntarily reach for it while you're waiting on the bus or for an elevator. As your day progresses, though, a sense of freedom should wash over you. You'll all of a sudden be witnessing the world through new lenses, so to speak.
You'll start noticing things you haven't in a while, and your brain will be more active than it ever can be while mindlessly scrolling through social media. When the 24 hours are over, you will have gained a new perspective on your relationship with your phone, and you might even become more aware of how much time you spend using it. But if we're being completely honest, chances are you'll be back to your old habits before you know it, because like I said, you're an addict.
We all are, but our phones aren't the problem; our brains are. There's a thin line between pleasure and pain, and you've probably heard this before, but even if you haven't, your brain knows this very well. At our core, we're hardwired to seek pleasure and avoid pain, which makes the two linked so much so that the part of the brain that controls these two very contrasting emotions is one and the same.
In our early days as a species, differentiating between the two was often the difference between life and death. With scarce resources, our survival depended on being able to distinguish between the pleasure of having a full stomach and warm shelter from the pain of starvation and the elements. Fortunately, times have drastically changed since then. We're now living in an era of overabundance. Instead of scarcity, ideally speaking, this should make us happier, right?
Sadly, the data shows that we're actually less and less happy. Depression levels have spiked in the last 30 years, and people in high-income countries have become less satisfied with their lives in the past decade, even though we're arguably living in humanity's golden age. It turns out that the reason we're unhappy is because of this very overabundance. We become addicted to the feel-good drug that our brain naturally releases—dopamine is a neurotransmitter released in our brain whenever we're anticipating a reward.
You can say it’s arguably the most important neurotransmitter because it’s responsible for our experience of motivation, pleasure, and reward. Going back to the thin line between pleasure and pain that we talked about earlier, the truth is it's more of a seesaw, and not a line. Your brain is constantly working to remain in a state of equilibrium called homeostasis—the balance between pleasure and pain.
So let's say you're scrolling through social media and you experience something pleasurable, like a cute cat video on your feed. Your brain will immediately recognize that as a pleasurable experience and release dopamine, which will tilt the seesaw towards the pleasure side. Then the balancing act begins, and your brain immediately tilts the seesaw back in equal and opposite amount to the pain side in order to restore homeostasis.
This is when you start feeling restless, anxious, and unhappy. Instead of sitting with this emotion until that balance is restored, you decide to indulge in more cat videos to get another dose of dopamine. And this is where dopamine can become a double-edged sword. Because just like any drug, the more your brain releases it, the less its effect, and the more you're craving.
Today we have endless ways of getting that quick fix of pleasure. Almost every second of our day offers an opportunity to be stimulated, whether it's sugar and junk food, social media, or porn. The response in our brain is the same: a dopamine hit that brings about pleasure only to be quickly followed by a balancing dose of pain—what’s called "the comedown."
This is when our brain, in its constant effort to maintain our chemical balance, counters the massive surge of dopamine with massive drops that can lead to a lack of motivation, anxiety, difficulty concentrating, and even depression. And just like drug addiction, when we're repeatedly exposed to pleasure-producing stimuli, our brains develop tolerance, and then we need more and more of the drug just to tip the seesaw back and feel normal again.
So we spend more and more time on our phones or indulging in junk food just to end the craving, even though it's not bringing us the same amount of pleasure anymore. The truth is our brains aren't equipped to deal with this overload of dopamine that is so easily accessible today. Our brains really haven't evolved much through the centuries, but our access to pleasurable experiences has skyrocketed, which has caused us to build somewhat of an obsession with instant gratification.
According to Dr. Anna Lem, the chief of Stanford University's dual diagnosis addiction clinic, the problem is that we're losing our ability to delay gratification, solve problems, and deal with frustration. Our obsession with receiving constant pleasure stimuli means we now have less tolerance to pain stimuli like anxiety, stress, and restlessness. Our brains are literally becoming less equipped to deal with negative emotions.
This is why when you can't reach for your phone, you feel anxious, or why going for a walk feels like a waste of time when you could be playing video games on the couch. Instead of processing our negative emotions and dealing with them in a healthy way, we've resorted to simply taking another hit of our naturally released feel-good drug. But as dark as this may seem, there is a silver lining.
Natural dopamine release in our brains is about ten times less than the surge of dopamine triggered by the use of most hard drugs. Having sex, for example, releases about 200 units of dopamine, while meth can release more than six times that amount. This is why a natural dopamine addiction is much easier to fix than an addiction to alcohol or drugs, even though the process is fairly similar. So how do you cure your dopamine addiction?
Well, the first thing you should do is stop. Stop scrolling through social media or watching porn or eating junk food, or seeking any form of instant gratification. Set a target for yourself, like a 30-day break from your crutch. Don't worry, unlike with any drug addiction, you won't be abstaining forever, but this initial period is essential to rewire your brain and balance your pleasure-pain seesaw.
This is what they call a dopamine detox—a form of cognitive behavioral therapy that was developed by Dr. Cameron Sepah. Its name could be misleading because you can't actually stop your brain from releasing dopamine, but abstaining from the constant blast of pleasure stimuli can help you identify unhealthy patterns and replace them with healthy ones. Once you achieve this, you may then introduce those activities back into your life, but this time in moderation.
A warning though: During your time of absence, you might feel anxious, irritable, or even empty, but you should embrace it. The idea is to delay gratification for as long as possible and get comfortable with being uncomfortable. As paradoxical as it may seem, you may actually seek out pain instead of pleasure. It's a stoic approach meant to make us appreciate all that we are blessed with in life.
So go for a long run, take a cold shower, or maybe even read about stoic philosophy. Challenging yourself can lead to a more disciplined and satisfied life. When we do challenging things, it has the opposite effect that instant gratification has on our brains. Instead of getting a dopamine boost beforehand, our brain releases it after we've successfully completed our challenge.
This earned high is sweeter, more satisfying, and more long-lasting than instant gratification. This may seem like a lot of hard work that requires a lot of conscious effort, but that's the whole point: conscious effort. A big reason for our dopamine addiction is that we unconsciously seek out pleasure-seeking stimuli because they're so easily available.
How many times have you grabbed your phone without even realizing it and found yourself scrolling through social media? How many hours have you spent scouring through Netflix late at night when all you really wanted to do was just go to bed? If we're going to reset our brain's dopamine levels, we have to actively work to make that happen.
At the end of the day, it's only natural to pursue enjoyment. But the kind of world we're living in today has created an expectation that we can always be happy. But the truth is that we can't, and that should be fine. Seeking out pleasurable stimuli is good; it's the obsessive and elusive pursuit of happiness that is the real problem.
So let's go back to our phone experiment from the beginning. Whether you've decided to do it or not, its purpose wasn't really to show you that you're a dopamine addict, but to help you gain some perspective on how your phone is affecting your life. This little device is a gateway to countless amounts of fun that you could enjoy with just a swipe or two, and it almost feels silly not to.
But as with all things in life, there are consequences. We've forgotten how to be alone with our thoughts, how to concentrate on the flow of our lives without any interruptions, and how to focus on what's really important. The truth is this overabundant world we live in today means that almost all of us are addicted to something. So whatever dopamine addiction you think you have, do you think you can cut it off for long periods of time, like a day or even a month?
Can you deny your natural programming, delay gratification, and seek pain instead of pleasure? You can find out the answer to this question in a couple of seconds when this video ends, and you're left with a simple choice: Watch another video, eat another cookie, or play another video game. Give into the dopamine craving that you know no longer satisfies you, or you can fight the urge and go for a walk, take a cold shower, or maybe even just be for a minute or two without any sort of stimulation.
You now know that it's crucial for your mental seesaw, your peace of mind, and ultimately your happiness. Death can only be interpreted by people who are alive, yet since no one who is alive can simultaneously experience what it's like to be dead, who then does death actually concern? This logic is oddly reassuring. Even so, if my doctor were to call me up right now and tell me that I would die in 12 hours, I would still likely spend all that time in a state of debilitating fear and anxiety.
Just thinking about this possibility makes me realize that whether I like it or not, death terrifies me right now even as a person who is fortunate enough to be in good health. It seems irrational and perhaps illogical to fear something that I have so little knowledge about or control over. But no matter what I do, I just can't seem to shake this nagging fear of the unknown, and I'm not alone.
According to the 2017 survey of American fears conducted by Chapman University, 20.3% of Americans are either afraid of or very afraid of dying. But why do we have such a strong fear of death? The fear of death largely comes from the uncertainty and lack of control of the situation. But perhaps there's a better way to think about our lives and our eventual passing that might end this fear or at least chip away at its root cause.
To start off, let's talk about the only other life event aside from death which has happened and will continue to happen to every single person who will ever exist on this planet: birth. Try to imagine the moment you were born. Of course, you can't actually remember this, I know, but just try for a second to bring yourself back to that time, the moment when you were pulled out of the darkness by a mysterious set of hands, only to be flooded by fluorescent lights and the chaotic bustle of a delivery room.
As your eyes adjusted to the light for the very first time, you also had to take in a room full of total strangers who were all likely staring at you—some of whom you'd never see again and others you could go on to spend the next 80-plus years with on this journey we call life. This journey that you, in that hospital room however many years ago, had absolutely no tangible knowledge about.
We talk about how scary death is, but the truth is birth was probably equally as scary, if not more so. It's no wonder that we judge the health of the newborn by how loudly they cry in the delivery room. My point in bringing all of this up is to say that death isn't the first life-changing existential experience you've gone through. Birth is scary; most likely.
But every single day since then, you learned more and more about the experience that is being alive, to the point where you thought of going back to the state you were in before birth has now become the idea you fear. Mark Twain once wrote, "I do not fear death; I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it."
This perfectly expresses another truth that most people fail to consider when it comes to death. We all know and seem to accept easily that there was an infinite amount of time before we were alive on Earth, so why is it so hard for some of us to grapple with the fact that there will also be an infinite amount of time that comes after our existence on Earth? When someone dies at an early age, we feel great sadness for all the earthly events they won't be able to be part of.
But when a baby is born, we don't mourn everything they missed out on before their delivery. We all seem to know how nonsensical it would be to feel sad about that. A baby's time of birth is what it is; a fixed situation which nobody has had any control over. But when it comes to death, there seem to be so many what-ifs involved. Maybe it's because the how and when of our passing seems to say something about the way that we live.
Consider the death of Robert Atkins, the man who dedicated a large majority of his life to refining the Atkins diet and preaching it as the most health-conscious way to live, only to die by slipping on an icy sidewalk. People often reference this as a way to say that death is inevitable, no matter how healthily one chooses to live—a message which, ironically enough, is the exact opposite of the one Atkins spent his life trying to convey.
Stories like Robert's are another major reason why some of us find death so frightening. The idea that the where, how, and when of our passing puts a climactic punctuation mark at the end of our existence and somehow adds to the definition of what our life meant. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. We seem to accept and even participate in creating these punctuations or labels, even when it comes to external things and people that we have no interpersonal connections to.
When a breaking news story emerges where an innocent person is murdered, the majority of us collectively label their life as beautiful and their death as tragic. And when that person's killer is found guilty and sentenced to death, we label their life as despicable and their death as deserved. Labeling others is a comforting habit that is strongly hardwired into our psychology. It's part of how we organize, simplify, and make sense of our world.
Yet we all know that even the best one-word label couldn't possibly be used to sum up the entirety of who and what a person is and what the life they lived was. So the idea that our death could assign us with one of these simplistic labels, which don't allow any room for the complexity of who we really were, is terrifying. If there's anything certain and non-debatable, it's that death is a termination of our physical bodies.
Our hearts stop beating, our neurons cease firing, and we take one last breath. Our physical presence here on Earth is terminated at the time of our death. While this is undeniably true, it still leaves us with multiple unanswerable questions. A large one being: Are we just a body—a spectacularly designed or random collection of cells, atoms, and molecules that is purely physical?—or is it possible that we're composed of a physical body, a physical mind, and something else, something intangible and non-physical, like for the lack of a better term, the soul?
This debate has been going on between philosophers for a millennium. Epicurus believed quite adamantly that we are merely physical beings whose deaths are a total annihilation of our existence, while some of Plato's most famous dialogues argue for the immortality of the soul. If you believe that there's nothing more to us than the atoms and DNA that compose our physical bodies and minds, then you might be what modern philosophers call a physicalist.
If, on the other hand, your inclination is to believe that we are composed of a physical body, a physical mind, and something intangible that resembles the soul, then you might be what they call a dualist. There are other variations and subsets of these definitions, but for simplicity's sake, we'll leave it there. Thinking back now to the problem of death with all this in mind, we can clearly see that whether or not someone is a dualist or physicalist makes an enormous difference in the ways they would interpret their beliefs about death and ultimately whether they would fear death or not.
If death is a definitive end to the physical body, then as far as physicalists are concerned, death is a pretty straightforward pill to swallow—death is just the end. But for dualists, the possibilities are quite endless. For if we possess something like a soul, then the range of options of what could happen to that soul after our physical bodies die is wide open. While some people cling to religious texts and beliefs for answers and comfort, non-religious people are left with a huge uncertainty over what life after death holds, and as humans, we have evolved to be naturally scared of the unknown.
Maybe the best place to turn to for further investigation of death is to consider the stories of people who have died. The Near-Death Experience Research Foundation presents what many would consider to be the most compelling scientific evidence for life after death—Jeffrey Long, the foundation's creator, has studied and examined the accounts of thousands of people who have reportedly had near-death experiences. While no two people's near-death experiences are exactly the same, there are some characteristic features that have been commonly observed.
Long has conducted and posted 5,100 interviews to date with people who have claimed to have had an NDE and compiled the data he's gotten from them over the years. In this, he identified 12 essential elements that are consistently present in his subjects, some of which include an out-of-body experience, encountering deceased relatives, friends, or mystical beings, and experiencing a sense of alteration in time or space.
Technically speaking, having any kind of lucid experience while one is clinically dead without a heartbeat should be impossible. Still, 74% of the people interviewed reportedly felt conscious and alert during their time spent dead than they did in their waking lives. The remaining 20.4% reportedly felt the same amount of consciousness and awareness in death as they do alive, while only 5.2% said they experienced less.
Even though the belief that death is the end of our consciousness is relatively common, out of the thousands of people who participated in the survey, only 5% reported that to be true for their near-death experience. These statistics are startling for sure, and there are plenty more like this that are equally compelling. But I think that sometimes it can be too easy to tune out the significance of figures like these because, well, you can find statistical data to support just about any claim you're trying to make these days.
Perhaps a more powerful and effective way to discuss NDEs is to delve into specific stories. Take this one, for example, reported by a woman who died by accidental electrocution at the age of seven: "I was transported out of my body and surrounded by the brightest, warmest light ever. The only way to explain it is our true home. It felt very familiar; it felt like home. I had never felt at home here on Earth before or after this experience. I didn't feel or see my body; I believe I was more like a pure light source that flows just like a river of pure love and joy. I was just so happy to be home."
Another person claimed that "the Earth is like a film that hasn't been developed. Not until we reach the other side is the film developed. Everything will be seen in beautiful colors that don't exist here on Earth." And another said, “In an instant, I knew that the life we live is an illusion; it's not real because it's a creation of our minds. We continually create thoughts and then project these thoughts outside of the mind, just as cinematic frames are projected onto a screen.”
Reports like these are incredibly interesting, but you might be wondering where the proof is. For all we know, these are just subjective accounts that people could be just making up, and you would be right. Sadly, as of right now, there is no definitive proof of the validity of NDEs. Like you, I also started off my research into this a little bit skeptical, but the more of these stories I heard and read over time, the harder it became for me to believe that there wasn't at least some validity to them.
No matter what belief you choose to carry with you about what happens to us after we die, I think it's important to research the literature out there, learn what the people who have firsthand knowledge have to say, and use all the information to form a real thought-out opinion for yourself. Because sadly, there is no way to tie a bow on this topic and wrap it up nicely. No matter what any of us say, death will always remain an existential mystery.
But if you struggle with the fear of death, here is something that helped me tremendously and hopes that it helps you too: The most comforting thing about death is that it will happen to us all. In life, anything is possible because we can never fully understand how the world works, and the laws of physics prevent us from being able to tell the future. Everything we predict is a probability; some are a lot more probable, others are less probable, while some have astronomically low chances of ever happening.
The probability is vanishingly small, but it remains non-zero. Would you get hit by a car? Will you get struck by lightning? Will we ever achieve world peace? If there is a chance that anything can happen, what are the odds? I was scrolling through the deepest parts of the internet one day when I came across this man, Roy Cleveland Sullivan—the man who has been hit by lightning seven times in his lifetime.
The odds of getting struck by lightning once isn't that low; it's just about 1 in 15,000. Even if you live in a small town, chances are that somebody in that town has been struck by lightning at least once. The odds of being struck seven times in a period of 80 years? That's a 1 in 10 to the 28 chance. This seems like such incredible and unfortunate odds until you consider the fact that you're more likely to get struck by lightning seven times than you are to shuffle a deck of cards into perfect numerical order.
Those odds? 1 in 10 to the 68. Probability is something that we can't really comprehend as humans. If we did, we'd stop worrying about a lot of things and stop taking for granted most of the things we should be worried about, like sharks. No thanks to the movie "Jaws," humans now have an immense fear of sharks. But the reality is you're more likely to get killed by a vending machine than you are to get killed by a shark.
The odds of getting killed by a vending machine are 1 in 112 million, while the odds of getting killed by a shark are staggering: 1 in 250 million. Now, the odds that you'll be attacked by a shark are much lower at 1 in 3.7 million, but even that is still too high for the monsters we've made sharks out to be. For context, you're more likely to get killed by a dog at a 1 in 12,400 chance than you are to get killed by a shark.
But we still keep them in our homes as loving pets. You're more likely to get killed by hornets, wasps, or bees at 1 in 63,000 than you are to get killed by a shark. In fact, you're more likely going to get killed by the government for committing murder at 1 in 119,000 than you are getting killed by a shark.
When you put a little thought into it, you realize that most of the time, our fears are sensational and not rational. When something tragic happens and it garners a lot of public attention, we are more likely to be afraid of that thing, even if it is much less common than the less notorious things. The most prominent example of this is the way we treat plane crashes.
Now, yes, when planes do crash, it is tragic. But because they cause such a big spectacle and have lots of media coverage, we forget that it is still by far the safest way to travel. Passenger airplane incidents are very rare and your odds of dying in a plane crash are very slim at 1 in 205,000. That's incredibly low when you compare it to your odds of dying in a car accident, which is just 1 in 107.
For motorcycle riders, it's 1 in 890, and even pedestrians aren't safe at 1 in 541. But wait, maybe the reason the airplane deaths are so low has to do something with our fear. Before people go on an airplane, they usually prepare well in advance—no harmful objects are allowed on board, and there are usually more than one designated pilot who has trained for years on safety practices before they were ever allowed to fly a plane.
Compare that to road travel, where we don't really think that much about it, and you can maybe see why things are the way they are. And with the odds that you'll be involved in a drunk driving accident in your lifetime being incredibly high at 2 in 3, you can see what I mean. We barely give it any thought. Hopefully, we can all do better, try to reduce the risk by simply designating a driver beforehand or taking an Uber when you go out for fun.
Another thing we should be worried about is right-handed appliances. Yes, it's true that most of the world is right-handed for some reason, but if we're learning anything as a species, it's inclusiveness. We must do the same with dominant hands because, as it is, the odds of a left-handed person dying simply because they used a right-handed appliance wrong is 1 in 7 million.
And while the chances look ridiculously slim, it has to happen to somebody. If you don't die, hey, you'll get a lot of free money from that lawsuit. Dextrous people among us can help us decide what appliances are better suited for what dominant hand. And we have a surprising amount of them—1 in 100 to be exact.
Now, this does not include people who have had to learn how to use their non-dominant hand because of injury or out of curiosity. It's just people who were born with an amazing control of both of their hands. Art is very subjective. What some people might find beautiful, others will find ugly. What one might consider great acting, others might see as over-the-top and annoying.
You see, much unlike science, art doesn't have a definitive set of rules and so they don't have a strict guideline for judgment either. And while this allows for creativity, it also makes it very difficult to find success in the world of the arts. If you want to be a surgeon, for instance, you know that if you pass the med school exams, intern, go through residency and so forth, you'll make it.
You have a set path to follow. But if you want to be a supermodel, a rock star, or a YouTuber, it's not that straightforward. You have to work hard at it every single day, and even then your odds are very slim. You can be a theater kid all your life, go to film school, practice as much as possible, but in the end, the odds that you'll become a movie star aren't very encouraging at just 1 in 1.1 million.
It's amazing that even with odds as slim as this, every year thousands of people will travel from all parts of the world to LA, trying to fulfill their dreams of being on the big screen. Interestingly, you have a much better chance of winning an Oscar at just 1 in 11,500 than becoming a movie star. But of course this Oscar includes all the technical awards that are given when everyone is taking a bathroom break.
Most people would much rather take a 1 in 1.1 million chance than to receive an award when no one's watching. If you're a writer, however, the odds are slightly in your favor: there is a 1 in 22 chance that you'll write a New York Times bestseller if you put in the time and the effort necessary.
These odds are definitely going to go up, bringing you that inch closer to making your dream a reality. Sports are closer related to science than arts because most of the time, if you work at it hard enough, you'll achieve some kind of success. But how hard can you work when there's only so many medals to go around? Millions of people around the world dedicate their entire lives to competing in the Olympics, yet only 1 in 662,000 will ever win a medal.
And that's the thing about scarcity. When there's such limited space, the odds of ever being able to do or acquire said thing just gets increasingly thinner. Think about the number of children who have worn a space suit and helmet to career day in school and told everybody that they want to be astronauts. Now think about the fact that the odds of becoming an astronaut are 1 in 12.1 million, and you get sad for those little kids whose dreams will one day have to be crushed.
What if they wanted to be president? Well, the chance of becoming a US president is 1 in 10 million, unless you're a religious 6ft tall Harvard Law graduate and military veteran. Then your odds go up astronomically, especially if you're a Harvard alumni because, as surprising as it might sound, the odds that the president of America has attended Harvard is 1 in 3.58.
So if you want to have the best chance at becoming president, you know what school to apply for. However, getting into Harvard is almost as difficult as becoming president, with a chance of just 4.6% of getting in. You might want to apply to some backup schools as well. At the end of the day, we all just want to be successful, whether it's through the arts or going through the so-called traditional route of finishing college and getting a good job.
We all just want to have enough money to live comfortably while we're still young, but sadly the odds are stacked against us. There's a slim chance of just between 6.4% and 22.3% that you'll become a millionaire, with different factors like race, education, wealth status, and age helping to place you somewhere in that range. While the chance of becoming a billionaire? Well, there are 8 billion humans in the world and only around 2,000 billionaires, so basically non-existent.
Getting old has a bittersweet taste to it. On the one hand, you're getting wiser, more mature, and you have a much better understanding of the world than you did when you were younger. But on the other hand, you're also getting weaker, you're forgetting things more, and sadly your body just keeps breaking down one after the other. The stats don't really help at all if you're under 20 right now; there's a one in four chance that you'll be disabled before you retire. And it gets worse.
There's a one in two chance that at the age of 75 you'll have disabling hearing loss. This is why whenever people say they want to work hard now so they can enjoy their retirement, I kind of feel bad for them because most times, at that age you don't really get to enjoy anything. All you can really do is sit around and reminisce on a life that once was. And when the Grim Reaper comes, you say goodbye to your loved ones and move on.
That's why you should do everything you want to do right now. For some reason, there's a 7% higher chance that you'll die on your birthday than on any other day—going out together with the candles. But for a few of us, living to 100 is possible, with the odds of that happening being approximately 1 in 5,780, with those odds increasing significantly if you're biologically a woman.
On the other hand of the spectrum, one of the most incredible human achievements is being born. If you're here watching this video right now, you deserve a round of applause. You ran, you fought, you survived, and against all odds, you made it. The odds of you existing were 1 in 5.5 trillion. But here you are. You might have been the one in 20 chance of being born on your mom's exact due date, or you're like most of us who were born around two weeks before or after.
You might be the one in 250 who are geniuses burdened with the weight of advancing our civilization, or like the rest of us who are cheering them on. Whoever you are, whatever it took you to get here, that was an incredible feat—one that is unrepeatable. Not in this lifetime, at least. Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It's a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Have you ever met someone who calls himself a nihilist? Maybe you have a friend from college or a family member who says they're a disciple of Nietzsche at every opportunity. They love to wax poetic about the meaninglessness of life. Briefly indulging them in their philosophical ideas can expand your mind and help you to see things you never would have. But the truth is, outside of philosophical discussion, leading a nihilistic life is bleak.
Think about it: If nothing matters and we're all just specks of dust floating through space and time, what's the point in trying at all? Building healthy relationships with friends and family doesn't seem worth it because, in the end, everyone you know will die anyway. All attempts at self-improvement are futile because in the universe's grand plan, none of it matters.
Even if you're not all doom and gloom, there will be days when getting out of bed will seem pointless, where life itself will seem kind of pointless, and the current state of the world—with issues like the climate crisis, the rise of extreme politics, and economic instability—doesn't help with our psychological state. This glimpse into the void might dissuade you from wanting to do anything with your life. You're staring down nihilism—the belief in nothing—and framed like this, it makes life sound pretty awful.
But there's another way to look at nihilism—one that teaches you not to see the glass as half full or half empty, but instead to throw the glass away and drink straight from the faucet until you're satisfied. This is optimistic nihilism—the realization that the universe's meaninglessness is the most liberating thing in the world. It's the type of nihilism you get when standing on the precipice of a huge mountain or watching a mother bird feed her young.
It's the profound smack of insignificance you feel when faced with the miracle of your existence—the amount of luck and chance that it took for you to get here in the first place. Optimistic nihilism doesn't mean we're doomed to live in a meaningless universe; instead, it allows us to experience the universe in our own unique ways. According to the nihilist, you and I don't matter; nothing does.
Religious morality or societal norms don't restrict your existence; you are entirely free and in control of making your life mean something. Once you accept the meaninglessness of your life as a gift rather than a burden, you find peace with the life you have. Because life is brief and fleeting—it's precious. Writing in the late 19th century, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche was worried about modernity.
He was very critical of the traditional European morality and the religion of his time which placed Christian beliefs at the center of social and political life. In his 1882 book "The Gay Science," he proclaimed the infamous line "God is dead." God remains dead, and we have killed him. Here, Nietzsche didn't make an argument for atheism; instead, he observed that believing in one true Christian God was no longer central to European society.
People's lives no longer revolved around the church calendar or its teachings. Industrial means of production gripped Europe, flooding the pockets of factory owners and enforcing a standardized workday on everyone else. With that, personal freedom and agency became core values in society. People no longer yearned for a higher power to guide them through life, explain what comes after death, or show them right from wrong.
Increasingly, people took these matters into their own hands. While Nietzsche was critical of religion, he was equally skeptical of what society could become without it. He understood that without Christianity as a guiding principle, people might move through life confused and disoriented. A world without God creates a void of understanding in our lives, and humans aren't psychologically capable of a pure belief in nothing—we're always searching for purpose in anything, even when we're not aware of it.
Think about how you start your day. Imagine you wake up and look out your window to see a beautiful owl perched on your balcony railing. You might associate that with having a good or bad day depending on the culture you were raised in. We're constantly making connections and associations like this in our lives, down to the most mundane things.
People aren't built to remain in a constant nihilistic state; it's only a phase that allows us to gain perspective on the structures that govern our everyday life. According to Nietzsche, we fill the void where God once was with ourselves. We become our own tiny gods, so to speak. We give ourselves the authority to distinguish right from wrong and determine our individual meanings in life.
If nihilism from a nihilistic point of view interests you, we made an entire video on nihilism so you can check that out by clicking on the link in the description. The existentialists who came after Nietzsche, like French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, expanded on this idea. Sartre believed we have complete freedom over our lives in a world without God or objective meaning.
But with great power comes great responsibility. You have the power to shape the life you want to live. Let that sink in for a moment. Yes, you can make good choices for yourself, but how are you supposed to know which choices are good? And how often do you do things that are against your own self-interest? In good moments when things are going well for you, you might feel empowered and in control. You may get the promotion you deserve or marry the person you love.
You might move to a new city and establish a community of friends that you couldn't imagine life without. You've invested time, energy, and love into making a meaningful life for yourself without following arbitrary rules or some intangible plan ordained from above. All the good things in your life have come from you. Yet in the trenches of the everyday, life can seem overwhelming, especially when you're in charge of making sure you have a good one.
To give our lives meaning, we create internal narratives about ourselves, and this is where we start to run into issues. We tell ourselves we're hard workers, and consequently, the importance of our jobs and the identity they provide us with start to weigh us down. It's the same at school; students get sick with anxiety about test scores and grades as if getting into the perfect college will finally confirm their life worth.
Similarly, you inject meaning into your love and family life; you strive to be the perfect parent, child, or partner because of your belief that these relationships will make your life meaningful. This is what keeps people in unhealthy or toxic relationships. They've attached this idea of meaning or worth to something that's ultimately meaningless. Having to constantly reaffirm who you are because there's no higher power to do that work for you can be exhausting.
While we have the freedom of total control, that also bogs us down. What happens when you're busy shaping the life you think you want, yet you're still unhappy? All this meaning-making, trying to make sense of your life, contributes to a plague of depression and anxiety, especially among Millennials and Gen Z. People are burned out, stressed out, and exhausted.
So why do we chase meaning even with this feeling in the back of our minds that none of it matters? There's a contradiction between our pursuit of meaning and the reality of a meaningless universe. It's devastating to confront the idea that all the hard work we put into making our lives mean something is for nothing. Optimistic nihilism is the solution to this anxiety that we inherit when we're forced into the position of making meaning out of our lives.
Yes, nothing matters, but isn't that a relief? You can find yourself responding to the seemingly urgent work emails at 3:00 a.m. or over-obsessing over your Instagram caption—but in the moment it feels like the weight of the world rests on these things. You spend late nights tossing and turning, all of your mistakes and wrongdoings spinning until you've convinced yourself that you're the worst person on the planet. But embracing that none of these things ultimately matter is freeing.
Forgive yourself for your past mistakes and look forward, excited to experience the future. When we're at the center of our own structures of meaning, every choice we make, good or bad, becomes weighted with significance. When you find yourself in one of these mindsets where your life feels too big to handle, remind yourself that you're small and insignificant.
The universe is indifferent to your worries, struggles, and mistakes, and in the end, none of it matters. You'll die one day, and in the future, no one will remember your brief flight on this planet. There's no use fretting about trying to create the perfect life because the energy spent making your life mean something is worthless.
When it's all said and done, you're dust. It's completely normal to allow the squirming sensation of your insignificance to wash over you for a moment. But staring nihilism in the face is only uncomfortable if you let it be. If you call yourself an optimistic nihilist, it's probably good practice to confront all the different emotions your meaninglessness makes you feel.
Otherwise, you won't reap the actual benefits of optimistic nihilism. Instead, it'll be a bandage to your problems, something you just tell yourself to believe in order to get through the day instead of a true guiding principle. You need to sit with your nothingness and accept it for what it is, then use the objective