The Burden of Consciousness

We humans are unique animals. We’re not the biggest. We’re not the strongest. We’re not the fastest–but we are the smartest. We’re the owners of the world’s most cognitively aware brain. It is, in fact, what makes us human. It’s truly amazing. The brain’s ability to solve complex problems has taken us out of the forests and spread us across the world, making us the planet’s dominant species. We’re innovative, thought-provoking, analytical, and philosophical. Our brain gives us endlessly stated advantages on the rest of the animal kingdom, but there is also a burden to bear.

The burden of consciousness, we rarely think about it, but it’s there. We wear it each morning; sleep in it each night. Most of us walk around oblivious to its existence, but it sits on all of our shoulders.

Think bout your favorite wild animal for a moment, whatever that might be. Think of nature in general; compare the lives they lead and their personality traits to our own and you’ll begin to see a difference. What is it? In a word–choice.

Example: A grizzly bear wakes up from hibernation around the same time each year. He does this because he feels he must, it’s ingrained in his DNA. It doesn’t matter what mood he was in during the winter, how much he had to eat, or what the other bears were doing around him. Trivial circumstance doesn’t affect his decision to get up and live once more, because his consciousness never presented that as an option. Ours, on the other hand, did. A man hits the snooze button on his alarm clock three times, even though he knows it will be a detriment to the rest of his day. That choice, that level of consciousness hinders him from fulfillment.

This is as uniquely human as our brain function itself. We are the only animals on the face of the planet that know what must be done, but will choose not to do it. The rest of our animal brethren can only scratch the surface of our cognitive capabilities, but yet they’re living to their fullest ability. Are we? I would argue that not a single one of us are–we are burdened by our own consciousness. The very thing that makes us successful, stops us from being immaculate.

A woman is undergoing chemotherapy for lung cancer caused by 30 years of smoking. The treatment, though invasive, seems to be turning things around and in a few grueling months the doctors believe she can beat her ailment. She dies five weeks later. Around the time that things began to look up, she decided things were too hard. She began smoking again, well aware of  the effect it would have on her treatment and her life. That choice, this consciousness we’ve been given, fools us sometimes. It tricks us into believing that “choice” is relevant in any situation, in this case the struggle to live. This is uniquely human. Think about it, we spend our lives trying to avoid the struggle that the rest of the natural world accepts as a part of life.

Example: Bison in Yellowstone National Park eat frozen grass in the dead of winter by using their massive heads to shovel snow out of the way. Some winters, though, the snow is too thick. When these times come the Bison must resort to eating grass near the park’s guisers, a dangerous affair. The chemicals are thick in the air and soil, corroding the Bison’s teeth and threatening to poison their offspring. These are hard times indeed, but nevertheless year after year, generation after generation the Bison survive the harshest elements by doing what must be done. It seems they know innately that the point when it feels hardest, is when spring is just around the corner, a lesson humanity forgot somwehre along the road.

We are unique. We’re the only animals on the face of the earth that don’t learn from mistakes. In fact, we beat ourselves up about mistakes so much so, it stops us from further growth.

Example: A young girl ignores the signs of infidelity in her relationship, then years later catches her significant other in the act. She feels she’s dumb for not recognizing the signs, and thus is overbearing in all of her subsequent relationships. One mistake has changed the way she views all men, diminishing her chances of finding true love. On the other hand, a mother leopard leaves her cub unattended for too long. The cub is eaten. The mother grieves, but her long-term response isn’t to swear off children all together, it’s to make sure the next child has proper protection.

Our consciousness is a double-edged sword. Its helped us paint the Sistine Chapel and put a man on the moon, but it’s also turned use toward drug abuse, and stopped us from getting promotions. The trick to life, consciousness and choice is to understand the burden is there. Somethings in life aren’t meant to be easy, mistakes are events, not the characterization of one’s being, and our existence is tied to the natural world we so often overlook. Search your soul and free your mind, you’ll see that we’re equipped to carry this burden. The trick is, can we carry it well?

 

© Chris Hampton 2012

 

Balls to the Wall: Lost in the Moment

My alarm goes off at 5:48 am. I get up shortly after. No one is ever ready to get up at that hour, still I don’t complain, just rollover and wonder where the night went. My dreams, no matter how sweet or sour, could’ve lasted just a few more minutes. The bed always feels so friendly. What calls me never does, but I’m still strangely compelled to meet sunrise in the same spot six days a week. My day begins with a test of will.

I step onto hallowed ground, a battlefield of sorts. But before I can battle an opponent, I must first battle myself. A half a mile warm-up, with yesterday’s troubles crisscrossing my mind; some dynamic flexibility to call up sweat, and then I’m ready.

The workout in front of me will push me to past my limits, run me into my wall. 15 x 200 meter sprints seems a near impossible task, nevertheless I don’t hesitate to begin. Adrenaline pulses, and the morning sings just over my panting breaths; how long can I last?

One down. One minute rest. Two down, three, four, and five. At a certain point your mind questions its own sanity. It happens somewhere between the wind seared lungs and the jelloed legs.  When there’s little left. In that moment though–that daunting moment of fatigue and debatable lucidity–in that moment, I feel alive.

I used to find it strange; I thought it a sick pleasure, because most have never been to the place I speak of, let alone flourish in it. Most would say I’m crazy, and this is the stubborn remnant of a fast passing athletic career, one I’m not ready to give up. But for me, the feeling is eternally real. I find purity in that moment, chase it, attempt to feel more. How far can I go?

If you were to ask me, I’d tell you sports parallels life. Nothing exemplifies that better than when you feel you’ve got nothing left, but more work lies ahead. When the chips are down and your gut’s been checked, re-checked, and three-checked, you’re left alone with yourself. There are no walls to hide behind (let’s be honest, we put walls up even to hide ourselves from ourselves), just you and what burns inside you when the going’s at its toughest. What are you really made of?  We all talk about perseverance, will and desire. How much of that burns in you? How much of the rhetoric we spew to one another about commitment and discipline are you willing to live in the most primal sense? What’s your true character?

I’ve found the answers in that moment. It’s taught me more about myself than any book, teacher, or religious sect. It’s forced me to take down walls and deal with who I really am. I havent always liked who I’ve found. Maybe that’s why people don’t like to go to their own wall. Maybe that moment of clarity reveals things more comfortably left shaded. It’s too hard. It’s too scary. In life, though, fear is a limiting factor. It restricts us in every situation; fear of commitment will allow you to let the love of your life walk out the door. Along the same lines, fear of failure will, ultimately make you fail.

Five more sprints remain and failure weighs heavy on my mind. What if I can’t finish? Will I make the times? What if I get beat? I’ve learned to deal with those swirling thoughts and internally scream positive messages louder. It gets me through. By the time I finish the last sprint my knees collapse like folding chairs and there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the world. But if I could smile, I would. I just did it. I conquered the workout and the mental war of self that rages within it. Remember, sports parallels life, so, think back to a time when you achieved the seemingly insurmountable. How gratifying was it? How much confidence did it give you going into your next challenge? How did it shape your life?

My workout ends an hour after it started.The smell of sweat soils the morning air around me. The thought of trial suddenly doesn’t seem so big and for that moment, things are clear. I want you to search your own life. I believe you’ll find that weathered storms teach us much more than sunshine and rose pedals. I believe the strong are also the tried. Sometimes, if you want to find out about yourself, you can’t wait for trials to try you. Just as a boxer would prepare to go twelve rounds, you must prepare yourself for the, one day, fight of your life. Sometimes, the only way to find out where your wall is, is to run into it. I believe what’s found in that moment is invaluable. Fortitude is forged, not innate. It is a skill to be honed and toiled over fire, at the wall. I visit mine each morning around 6am. When do you visit yours?

© 2012 Chris Hampton

 

Upredictablity as Planned

One of the first life lessons we learn is to plan for the unexpected. Our parents preach it to us when we’re coherent enough to understand the world’s complexity. The idea is then honed trough time and trial. Ultimately, we should all come to the same conclusion. Life is unpredictable. Change is not only necessary, it’s irrefutably constant in our lives, the one variable that never waivers. So why is it that when we make life plans, that unpredictability is, at best, a tertiary consideration?

We fail to plan for unpredictability on a daily basis. We leave the house when the sun is shining and don’t bring a rain coat. We spend money we need on things we don’t. We say “see ya later” instead of “I love you.” Somehow, unpredictability never crosses our mind, until it hinders our life. Our plans seem so solid.

On the contrary, what’s solid is the change, the unpredictability. It is the rock, and our plans are the turbulent waves crashing into it, perpetually oblivious to its steadfastness. We act as if we don’t know it’s there. We act as if sharp unpredictability is reserved for the rest of the world, not us. Why is it that we’re so blind?

I’ve thought about this in terms of my own life. I’ve rewound my life’s DVD and analyzed my missteps. What role has unpredictability played? How have I handled it? What has it taught me? I’ve come to a strange conclusion.

The unpredictable nature of life has made me who I am. Its molded me through unexpected losses and wins, challenging me to think deeper, work harder. Its forced me to hone skills and ask questions I normally wouldn’t, nudging me to step outside my box, even when I’m scared. I’ve befriended old foes and swallowed pride that, at the time, I never thought I would. I’ve lost people that I never imagined being without, only to find more unforgettable relationships. I’ve walked a path I thought was a straight shot to my dreams, only to find other hobbies and interests along the way. Unpredictability has shaped my life.

I believe this to be true of all of us. If you search your soul, I’m sure you’ll find the same reality. Unpredictability, in all of its frustrating mystery, shapes our lives, makes us who we are. Look back through the pages of your life, think about how you thought it’d be as a child, teen, young adult. What role did unpredictability play? In the end did it hinder you or teach you to help you reach something better? Comment and let me know what you think.

© 2012 Chris Hampton

 

Do You Still Dream?

I still remember those childhood dreams, the doodles on the notebooks, the intimate discussions with friends as to what our future held. Greatness always twinkled in my eyes. It still does. I still find myself lost in thought, day dreaming about what life will be like when the goals I set as a child see fruition. I still dream of the future. It still drives my life, the decisions I make, the friends I choose and the situations I choose to enter. I’ve never lost the ability to see the possibilities. In my eyes, they’re still bright. But as the world spins and time moves ever forward, I look around at my peers and wonder if they feel the same. Do they still dream?

In this world driven by money and a strict social progression its easy to push one’s dreams to the background. In fact, we’re taught that. We’re taught that as we get older, and the circumstantial weight of life gets heavier, those whimsical visions we saw as children, should die. Adulthood should be rooted in solidity and sureness: a good job with a 401k, a modest house within your means, and the man/woman that makes the most practical sense. We say so and so is “crazy” or “unrealistic” for chasing awe inspiring dreams that occur for only a select few. As we grow, it seems our ability to see the possibilities diminishes. Why is that?

Somewhere, a dad lives through the accomplishments of his son, pushing him to the brink, praying he (son) takes advantage of the opportunities he (dad) let slip in his own youth. A woman in her fifties tries out for the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, something she dreamed of since a little girl. A 70 year-old man purchases a new Camero to the chagrin of his children and grandchildren. He’d always wanted one, but it was never the practical decision. There are countless examples of lives filled with regret and dreams that just won’t die. So why do we try to kill them? Why is it so necessary for the world to lose its mystery and become so solidly black and white? We all know its anything but that.

I remember a conversation I had with my grandma before she passed. We sat in the living room and the message she spewed between hacking coughs has stuck with me to this day. She reflected on her life, but not in the way most of us look forward at it. She spoke of the difficulty of regret, and told me her biggest wish for me was that I lived with none. She said, “When you live with no regrets Christopher, that’s the most beautiful life you can lead.” She urged me not to be afraid to dream, and never to let this world kill my dreams. Everything she said, thus far I’ve lived.

I’m a very analytical person; I assess people and situations regularly. I wonder what my peers, parents and predecessors dream of when they lay their head down at night. I wonder if those dreams follow them throughout the day, guiding their decisions. My belief is that we all live to be extraordinary, and while it’s true life has circumstance, that circumstance should never prevent you from chasing what you desire. We only get one of these, it’s not worth living with regrets. It’s not worth a life wondering “what if” because we were too afraid to take heed to the things we all dreamed as children, so long ago. This world is filled with fails and fears, and its true not everyone attains what they desire. But to me, at least chasing dreams you’ve seen, leads to a life of fulfillment, a life free of the burden of regret.

Somewhere a little boy/girl formulates the beginnings of a dream that will captivate them for years to come. The possibilities are bright. For you and I the world looks different, but the idea should be the same. What you desire most in life, should captivate you and even though bills are due and your boss is a prick, the world should never lose its mystery.  Do you still dream?

© Chris Hampton 2012