I have a new purpose
By: Dana J. Wright
Tags: Ego, Discipline, Death, Seinfeld, Philosophy

I have a new purpose

To be nobody.

Image created by the author.

Seinfeld has a standup bit where he says, “We men are the superheroes of our own little universes.” Something like that. “Want proof?” he continues, “You’ve all seen the guy driving down the street with a mattress tied to the roof of the car. And without fail, he has his arm hanging out the window holding the mattress. Because when the wind catches this giant foam rectangle at 70 miles per hour, don’t worry sweetheart, I got it.”

We all experience our worlds like that to some extent. We’re the center of our realities. We absorb information, the information passes through the filter of our experiences, we make choices, we make things happen, we are at cause in the universe.

Or so we think. We forget this perception only exists in our minds. And that everyone else is walking around with the same delusion of their own central role. In actuality, we’re just one in a sea of billions. And over time, nothing about us will be the least bit significant. If Elon Musk or President Obama happen to be reading this, you gentlemen as well. Revered as you are for your influence and contributions, you are only slightly less insignificant than the rest of us.

The known universe contains one septillion stars (a one followed by 24 zeroes) and a lot of those stars contain a handful more blobs of dust we call planets. If you got hit by a bus tomorrow, little would change beyond the emotional states of the people in your immediate circle. The earth would keep spinning rapidly on its axis. The laws of nature would not change, nor would this infinite sea of entropy in which we are but a fraction of a ripple.

People generally don’t like hearing that. It doesn’t really jive with the stories we tell ourselves. Like mattress guy, we think we’re special. That we can outsmart physics. Our parents didn’t raise us to be insignificant specs of stardust. What kind of downer childhood would that be? What kind of cynical outlook is this for anyone to have at any age? You might think. Well, you would be wrong. The truth is, it’s not cynical at all. To acknowledge what is unimportant actually frees us from the grips of the self-centered voice in our heads that’s responsible for a great deal of our suffering.

It’s this same voice that compares us to people who don’t matter, that convinces us we’re entitled to a hot girlfriend, a sprinter van, a million followers, a beach body and a perfect bill of health. Whatever the arbitrary measure of success happens to be is beside the point. It’s the mindset that’s the problem — that we hold a privileged position in the universe that entitles us to anything at all. It’s not only a completely false illusion, but also gets in the way of enjoying the benefits of being a normal nobody with nothing, which are considerable.

Here are just a few that I think are pretty good:

1. A normal nobody gets to experience the profoundness of the sublime

Edmund Burke separated human sensory experiences into The Beautiful and The Sublime. We’re familiar with The Beautiful, we see it every day in the things that catch our eye. But The Sublime is different. It’s more than just visually appealing. It’s overwhelming. It makes us feel small. It’s felt when we are left truly in awe. It is experienced when we encounter the raw might of nature, when we are compelled by a work of art, or by the emotion of falling in love.

To indulge in The Sublime, we have to give up a part of ourselves, trade a degree of inferiority for a connection to something greater. The risks are being honest with yourself, vulnerable to others, and accepting of an uncertain world. The reward is The Sublime.

2. A normal nobody is free from the pressures and expectations of society’s labels and hierarchies

Not to judge them too harshly, they are how we make sense of a complex world. That said, they are not absolute. Think of the tyrannical CEO that fires anyone who disagrees with him and promotes incompetent loyalists. He derives his identity to a large extent from the power he wields over a business, rather than from, say, intrinsic values.

The problem for him arises when the business starts to fail and the board decides to replace him. He will then experience a divergence between the story he has been telling himself and the harsh reality. His wealth doesn’t matter. His fall is steep and swift, and when he lands, it doesn’t make a sound, because he is alone. He forgot that a title is nothing more than a figment of our collective imagination. A normal nobody may assume a certain role with pride, but he is not under the illusion that his title by itself gives him anything he didn’t earn. A small mental shift that makes a big difference.

3. A normal nobody has the humility to realize that it’s our struggles that define us, not our achievements

It’s all good to want an amazing career, but walking around with the assumption that you deserve one won’t get you there. It’s the price you’re willing to pay, the initial unrewarded work and the long hours of blood, sweat and tears with no end in sight.

To accept such struggles takes humility. It requires the acknowledgment that you’re just like everybody else that wants a rewarding career, a nice house, and a loving relationship. Your desires aren’t unique. What you’re willing to endure and the beatings you’re willing to take, are. Indeed, the universe is utterly indifferent to what you want. With that understanding, you can listen to elders, bide your time, and when you are ready, boldly stare life in the face with courage and say, “I’d like to give it a try anyway.”

So that’s the new purpose. To see reality for what it really is, and only then try to shape it into what I wish it were. I’m already a nobody, as are you. Internalize that, and we should have an easier time experiencing the wonders right in front of us, embracing intrinsic values over made up ones, and humbly chipping away at the things within our power to build. It’s not an easy path, tempering the ego. But that’s precisely why it’s valuable. We are but negligible flecks of dust in a vast cosmos. If we can see the beauty in that, it just might blow us away.