You’re Too Self-Aware. And That’s Why Things Feel Weird.

At some point in history, a human asked the first question, striking the flint of comprehension against the pyrite of uncertainty. In that moment, the first true spark of humanity's self-awareness was produced. A spark destined to light the world on fire. Self-awareness is generally considered a good thing. As a result of our unique human form of self-awareness, we can conceptually comprehend ourselves and the world, abstractly recall and foresee events, form rationales about the things that happen, and strive to change them. These abilities are undeniably profound. They have played a fundamental role in our rising to the top of the animal kingdom, overcoming the inhibitions of our biology, and conquering much of the world. But self-awareness can also be a terrible thing. Because of our particular form of it, we can also recognize our own limits. We can perceive, with grave intensity, our ignorance, meekness, futility, and suffering. As individuals capable of comprehending, imagining, and rationalizing, we are naturally compelled toward understanding, controlling, and mattering. The problems caused by our self-awareness begin here, with the contrast between what we are compelled toward and what we are capable of. Although we are granted the ability to comprehend some of ourselves in reality, and although we can conquer so much of the world, ultimately, we do not seem to possess the ability to truly control, understand, or conquer ourselves. As a species, we don't really know what we want. Human progress, both individually and collectively, is often passionate, but also largely blind and aimless, all roads apparently leading toward futility and oblivion. Even if we knew what we wanted, all evidence seems to suggest that we would only struggle indefinitely to attain it. We can never quite dig deeply enough into ourselves and the world to know what's at play, to know what mechanisms of nature are in operation, why they work the way they do, and how or whether we can fundamentally alter how they work. We will never obtain what we are truly after. We can never conquer reality and know truth. Every new discovery will inevitably fall victim to the next. Every attempt at meaning will inevitably reveal itself to be an illusion. The more tightly we try to hold on to the world, the more our hands will callous. Ultimately, we all must watch ourselves as we struggle against these inevitabilities. We must witness our failures, our absurdities, and our deaths as we strive endlessly, with a reasonably clear view, but no clear direction. It is as if we were given access to the show of existence with a desire for a directorial role, but with intense lucidity. We are forced to sit in the audience as things go wrong, over and over. The cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker brilliantly summarizes our existential plight in The Denial of Death. Man has a symbolic identity that brings him sharply out of nature. He is a symbolic self, a creature with a name, a life history. He is a creator with a mind that soars out to speculate about atoms and infinity. Yet, at the same time, man is a worm and food for worms. This is the paradox. He is out of nature and hopelessly in it. He is dual, up in the stars and yet housed in a heart-pumping, breath-gasping body that once belonged to a fish and still carries the gill marks to prove it. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in and to have to live with. Of course, the problems of self-awareness are by no means new. They began at the onset of and then, arguably, they became more and more inflamed throughout human history, through the cognitive revolution, agricultural revolution, scientific revolution, industrial revolutions, and technological revolutions. But now, particularly because of the rapid progress of science and technology, we are suddenly more aware of ourselves and the world than any humans have ever been before. We are more aware of the horrors and paradoxes of our existence. Moreover, because of the modernization and westernization of so much of the world, we are also more compelled to understand, control, and eradicate these horrors and paradoxes. Western society has largely chosen reason, order, control, and certainty as its weapons in the war against the universe. But every battle is fought in a war that cannot be won. The universe feels no pain. We feel the pain for it. The war is thus with ourselves. We have been and will always be the victims of our own tactics. Over time, though we have increasingly prospered in areas like safety, security, health, and longevity, we have, arguably, declined in areas like our sense of meaning, purpose, connection, and clarity. Previous myths and imagined orders that depended on humanity's ignorance have fallen increasingly to the wayside, killed off by new knowledge and theories. Folklores, mythologies, religions, traditions, these things have been sacrificed to our increasing awareness. In the words of author H.P. Lovecraft, The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little. But some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age. The someday that Lovecraft wrote about nearly 100 years ago is, arguably, today. The human project appears to be one lifelong response to having woken up to these terrifying vistas, the conditions of reality and consciousness, and then trying to outrun them by running further into them. And now, we have fully opened them up, and they cannot be escaped. Thus, confronting the pains and problems of self-awareness has only become increasingly crucial. It is not hopeless. Although our self-awareness causes much of our suffering, it is also the lifeline with which we can manage and endure it. Self-awareness is the means by which we can transmute and transcend our suffering. More crucially and powerfully than anything else, because of our awareness, we are uniquely able to discover and interpret immense beauty and wonder, despite what we cannot do or know, and despite how terrifying everything might be. Not only are we able to exist and survive, but we can exist and survive in the name of ideas and wonders that we forge for ourselves. With proper attention and effort, we can weave meaning out of our bodies, our minds, our nature, our history, and our future, like a tapestry of possibility and achievement. We can know ourselves and know that we know ourselves. We can know the borders of knowledge and struggle against them, pushing like a child might against a heavy piece of furniture that they have no business moving, but if it even moves an inch, joy floods the veins. We can transfigure suffering and demeaning through art, curiosity, and aesthetic experiences. We can know why it means so much to draw close to another being. We can know what it means to love, and we can choose to love it all. This is the terrible paradox of self-awareness. Our awareness causes our suffering, but our suffering can be made worthwhile through our awareness. The task is not to resolve this paradox, however, but to utilize and embrace it. That was the introduction to my new book, The Terrible Paradox of Self-Awareness. It's out now, and you can get your copy through the link in the description. If you enjoy my work and enjoy Pursuit of Wonder, I think you'll really resonate with this book. It's a series of reflections on both the burdens and gifts of self-awareness, of consciousness, exploring topics like the self, meaning, truth, desire, suffering, futility, time, death, and hope. It's for those of us who know that existence is irredeemably absurd, but nonetheless seek to commune with the absurdity, to live well within the condition of a mind that formed without us in mind. It's an entirely new non-fiction work of mine, perhaps simultaneously my darkest and most hopeful work yet. If you have or do choose to get a copy, thank you so much. Your support on this project truly means a lot. And of course, as always, thank you so much for watching in general, and see you next video.