Reading about people

First, some life context:

I’ve been out of place for a bit with regards to practice, reading, fitness, media, etc. and I’m still not particularly sure what precipitated the fall-off. Over the past couple months, my substance use increased, my reading and practice time decreased, my language learning consistency tanked, and my continuous passive scrolling of certain platforms returned full-force. It’s only over the past couple weeks that I have began to seriously address any of these shifts in any meaningful fashion. My substance use has returned nearly to the level immediately preceding this period, my tea sessions are more focused more frequently, my language learning has moved back up a little bit, and I’m back to only addressing social platforms in defined contexts. This, in combination with a reduction in the amount of games I’ve been playing, has shown a marked improvement in my feeling of well-being, even for just a short time.

Through this short recovery period of sorts, I have been reading more as a way to productively direct the mind. I finished Dawn of Everything by Davids Graeber and Wengrow, and started two other books: The Body Keeps the Score (which I will be reading simultaneously with my partner for discussion) and Humankind: A Hopeful Story. I often prefer these kinds of books which, like other Buddhist or philosophical texts I like to read, discuss how people have developed, why we process things the way we do, and how we can embody that understanding in order to navigate our lives in a way that fosters a more positive view of life and of others, building a sense of collaborative (or co-emerging, or less dualistic) existence with the world. All of this is to say that I like reading about people, from massive, historical accounts (even from the “Big History” haters behind Dawn of Everything) to manuals on how we’ve learned to zoom in on our own experience of consciousness.

These kinds of books seem to offer me valuable insights that keep me from straying too far for too long. One of the key takeaways (not just mine, but one that I believe that was intended) from Dawn of Everything was that changes in ways of being have always been a part of human existence, which reinforces the idea that they are always possible. This, from my modern perspective, is not always apparent and is a frame-change that can enable more dynamicity in one’s personal life and, though I often don’t lean this direction, expand our view of what’s possible for large scale improvement in communities at large. My more recently started reads, though I am still very early in them, have already been similarly valuable. The common ground on views of diagnosis, individualization, medication, and integrated treatment plans that I felt with Bessel van der Kolk in the first few chapters was incredibly valuable for me; this is not meant to be useless self congratulation, but just a recognition of a shared perspective that made me feel incredibly receptive to the other insights to be shared that may not necessarily be views I previously held, and things that may have seemed to far from my existing understanding if presented by someone with whom I did not feel this same shared base. That, perhaps, is simply my own shortcoming, but that’s probably for another time.

Humankind, the most recent of my additions, was a bit of a tough one. In the very first chapter, entitled A New Realism, Bregman addresses an interesting contrast: the default compassion and generosity exhibited by “the masses,” as therein-referenced Gustav le Bon would refer to them, and the seemingly perpetual self-interest of many powerful actors (“Dictators and despots, governors and generals…") that causes a sharp break between expectations and reality when it comes to human behaviour. This negative view of humanity is reinforced in all sorts of media and reflected in our political climate on a global scale. Realizing that those powerful actors make decisions based on the assumption that all other humans function nearly identically to them (a common, albeit misguided, assumption that can manifest in almost any kind of relationship with others) makes it easier to palate the assertion from the author that is reinforced by decades of behavioural analysis: that humans are generally more kind, helpful, and generally decent than we have been led us to believe. This, for many, could be a very comforting realization, and I’ll admit it was a bit of a feel-good introduction for me, even before the justification for and reflection on this point that I assume comprises the rest of the book. I have often argued from a similar perspective when people have given explanations for war, greed, etc. that boil down to “it’s just human nature,” but it was a surprisingly profound moment to realize that my behaviour is often not reflective of this.

My own paranoia surrounding the motives and behaviour of others and the direction of the world makes me much less open to a whole variety of positive experiences, and I believe this has directly hindered my attempts at valuable intimate relationships. It was particularly potent to realize that, as best I can tell, I was raised by someone who strongly represented this particular hybrid of behaviour guided primarily by self-interest and projected evil in the world based on that; admittedly, the “self” in this “self-interest” was typically expanded out to at least the in-group of the immediate family as well, which arguably improved this potentially negative experience. Despite certain forms of instinctive rejection through my young life, it’s clear in reflection now that I have modelled myself after this person in a very deep way. It’s strange to look more directly at this internalized expectation that my own neuroses and paranoia are equally present in those around me, that their decisions are equally selfish, that they share this sense of clawing at the world to create a hole in which kindness, generosity, and vulnerability can be unquestioned. It feels related to increased empathy for others, but almost inversely: to realize that these negative or anti-social views and impulses are not shared makes it easier to feel connected. But of course, realizing or embodying that fully in my life will be a process of practice and internalization as well.