Life is like swimming in a river,
for its flow
cannot be predicted or understood
and it is best to keep
a shore in the sight for a guide
usually the one that feels right,
and navigate through the currents, light,
and while doing so,
it is good to remember
that it is not the river that controls the arc,
it is the strokes that we utilize,
and so,
swim with a sense of grace
through life’s enigmatic pace.
The IQ test came back. It was negative.
Walking along the trail surrounded by tall trees on a crisp autumn afternoon it is easy to slide in a state of mind of peace and serenity when neurons in the brain fire synchronously, and by doing so, operate at maximum efficiency with least energy requirement.
But the state of peak efficiency does not last long.
As it usually happens in the moments of contemplation, for example, sitting cross legged in a lotus position near a pond and watching the reflection of trees on the other side on its still surface, a stray leaf falls and breaks the sense of harmony.
Waves ripple on the surface of the pond outward from the epicenter of the impact mimicking how the universe may have looked at its beginning at the Big Bang. Since the moment of its creation, the ripples of creation are moving farther and farther away, and along with their outward journey, managed to create you and me.
Today the leaf that fell on the surface of pond of serenity is the thought whether a brain with higher Intelligence Quotient (IQ) would require more energy or less energy?
It is one of those thoughts that may not be of any practical relevance but still sometimes the brain wants to indulge.
Guess it has its weak moments. Only yesterday, it started musing about the question of free will wondering if we do or do we not have choices. To be cute, it also added “That is the question”.
The answer to the question of the relationship between IQ and brain’s net energy requirement, however, was not obvious. Like the leaf that fell on the surface of the pond is two sided, the possible answer to its musings also had two sides.
It is sometimes annoying to go through life having two sides to every question. It is like Democrats and Republicans bickering over every issue. Is there not a single social, economic, climate change issue on which they can agree? If one says A the other has to say Z and each will produce convincing arguments to support their point of view.
Watching them bicker makes you wonder whether taking opposing positions is a matter of principle or if there are legitimate reasons for it. But back to the question of IQ and energy requirement.
One of the basic facts about the brain is that it requires a lot of energy for its functioning. On average, the brain consumes about 20% of the body’s total energy, despite accounting for only about 2% of the body’s total weight. This high energy demand is because of the brain’s continuous activity, which includes maintaining electrical signals, release, and uptake of neurotransmitters etc.
One position on the energy requirement for a high IQ brain would say it would require less amount of energy. A high IQ should be more efficient in solving problems and finding solutions compared to a brain with a lower IQ.
Isn’t it plausible to think that facing a problem a brain with higher IQ would require less time and energy to solve the issue at hand relative to a brain with lower IQ?
But that is not the end of the story.
A high IQ brain may also be a magnet for confronting more problems, and oftentimes, may like to do so on a voluntary basis.
A high IQ brain may even want to delve into problems having no practical relevance in the context of evolution, the prime goal of which is to survive and reproduce These are the kind of problems that have been debated for eons as part of philosophy, or trying to conjure reasons for human existence, or finding the meaning of consciousness.
An immediate example of such musings is wondering whether a brain with higher IQ would require more energy or less energy to function.
If the high IQ brain likes to wander about esoteric issues, and as a consequence is firing its neurons all the time and pathways in the brain are always filled with electrical storm of activities then the consequence will be that such a brain will require lots more energy to function.
So, which one is right? I guess experiments and measurements should be able to settle the issue.
The answer ended up with alternatives, both being equally plausible. As usual, having two sides of the coin rules and it is time to move on before the brain starts to get fatigued and cries out for “feed me.”
Ciao.
See also:
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/019188699390206I
https://time.com/5400025/does-thinking-burn-calories/
Related:
Do we or do we not have choices? Should we worry?
In the context of evolution, is IQ an optimization problem?
It is when we are in transition that we are most completely alive. — William Bridges
“Where to go next?” This question, seemingly innocuous, is a profound inquiry that often encapsulates the human psyche at life’s crossroads when one chapter has ended and the next is yet to begin. It is a question that resonates in the silence of human solitude while navigating through life transitions, reverberating under the weight of decisions and the possibilities of futures yet to crystallize.
Within this question lies a sense of melancholy, a poignant reminder of the transient nature of existence. It narrates the story of moments of purpose and engagement that once filled our lives but are now relegated to the realm of memory. This question emerges from the ashes of what a goal was once but has now ended. From those ashes, it rises like a phoenix to meet the uncertainty of the future and the possibilities of what we might become.
As we stand on the precipice of an unknown future, gazing at the distant horizon, the question sharpens our senses. Our mortality, always a silent companion, becomes a bit more eloquent. The ticking of clocks sounds louder, each tick echoing the relentless march of time towards our end.
Yet, within this question also lies a spark of hope, a beacon guiding us towards new selves. It is a call to adventure, a challenge to step out of our comfort zones and venture into the unknown. It is an invitation to explore, to learn, to grow. It is a reminder that every ending is merely a new beginning in disguise, a metamorphosis waiting to happen, except for now, that beginning is hidden inside the question “where to go next”.
So, “where to go next?” is not just a question but is at the roots of the continuation of journeys that glue together who we were, who we are, and who we will be. It is a question that propels us to undertake hard journeys of self-discovery, of finding meaning in the chaos and mundanity of our daily existence. It is a question that urges us to go beyond the confines of our solitude and seek connectedness with the universe. It is a question that assures us that our journey, despite its inherent uncertainty, always holds promises of growth.
In the end, “where to go next?” is a question that reflects the essence of being human. It is a question that, in its asking, reveals our deepest fears and highest hopes. It is a question that, while holding regrets of leaving something behind, also carries the ineffable excitement of something ahead.
It is a question that, no matter where the answer might lead us, reminds us of our quest for meaning and purpose. It is a question that, ultimately, connects who we were and who we aspire to become. It is a question that, in its simplicity and complexity, captures the beauty and mystery of life itself. It is a question that, in the end, embodies the essence of our journey.
“Where to go next?” is a question that bridges the past and future at certain crossroads in our life.
It is the question I pondered when walking back alone to the hotel on the last day after the conclusion of a successful meeting that I chaired — where to go next?
Ciao.
In hush of dawn, after the wedding’s delight
a celebration that went
late into the night,
the tent, a hollow shell,
stood empty in the early light.
In a corner
stood a riotous assembly of crows
now feasting in a celebration
on the remnants of joy -
crumbs and drumstick -
scattered all over the floor, and cawed
for more.
The grass,
although trampled, yet resilient,
shimmered with morning dew.
Soon the cleaning crews will descend
to dismantle the wedding tent,
and erase
the traces of joyous, past moments.
Natalie, the wedding organizer
the weaver of dreams
stood in the emptiness and wondered
where to go next?
Why did the genius bring a ladder to the IQ test?
Because he wanted to reach an even higher level.
If you are reading this then the neurons in your brain, the part that sits above your shoulders inside a round cavity of bones, are in a high energy consumption state.
Getting the visual signals through the optic nerve, comprehending, and understanding their meaning based on knowledge learned from past experiences, results in an electric storm of activity from the firing of the neurons traversing the breadth of the brain.
Brain. It turns out the brain is an organ with an inordinately high need for energy.
On average, the brain consumes about 20% of the body’s total energy, despite accounting for only about 2% of the body’s total weight. This high energy demand is primarily because of the brain’s continuous activity, which includes maintaining electrical signals, release and uptake of neurotransmitters, and other processes essential for its function.
The brain is an organ that is constantly receiving sensory data about the environment its host body is in. From that sensory data it is constantly weighing the pros and cons and deciding on what to do next.
The role of the brain is often equated with a prediction machine that takes in the data, evaluates it in the light of past experiences and decides on an option for its well being in the future.
Another basic function of the brain is to keep all the cells in the body functioning. To do that it constantly monitors inputs coming from all over the body and takes corrective actions as needed.
For all the work the one hundred billion neurons in the brain do to coordinate and manage trillion of cells in the body and maintain homeostasis so small perturbations do not become major crises, comes at cost.
The price of all this work is its energy demand.
Beyond its basic functions to keep an organism alive in a hostile environment and to enhance its chance for survival and reproduction, the brain also engages in cognitive excursions that although do not seem to bear a direct relation with its basic function but are still entertained. It is safe to assume that those cognitive excursions would also entail some energy cost.
Thinking about whether there is free will or not? That is going to cost me some additional calories.
How vast is the universe; what was there before the Big Bang; what is the meaning and purpose of my finite existence; what happens after my death are all intriguing questions. However, they are not of primary importance for survival and reproduction, and yet, are entertained at the expense of needing additional calories.
The point is that it is plausible that cognitive processes are not a free lunch and increase the brain’s energy consumption.
Following the same reasoning, it is also plausible that a brain with higher Intelligence Quotient (IQ), by carrying additional cognitive load, requires more energy for its sustenance.
In other words, it is plausible that a higher IQ will (or should) relate to a brain with higher metabolic rate. Would Michael Phelps of the IQ world need eight thousand calories a day to sustain peak performance of their brain.
If so, it presents an optimization problem for evolution to solve.
Higher IQ and intelligence that likes to grapple with weighty philosophical questions, which may have a questionable relevance for survival and reproduction, may be a waste of energy resources.
On the other hand, having a certain level of IQ is required for survival and reproduction and having a little bit of more than absolutely necessary will not hurt either.
However, neither too much IQ may be good nor too little.
Is there an optimal level of intelligence and IQ that the process of evolution will prefer and aims for?
Or put differently, in the context of evolution is IQ an optimization problem? Too little is not good for survival, and too much shall require additional energy for its sustenance, energy that has to be obtained from external sources that are being competed for.
It is a plausible proposition.
I do not know about you, the cognitive process to write this makes me feel burned out. It is time for an energy drink.
Perhaps Mango Lassi, I would reach for (that is Yoda Speak).
Ciao.
Note:
If you think I am making this up then it is not entirely a segment of my imagination. A Google search for “IQ and relation with brain metabolic rate” did bring in interesting suggestions on the subject, for example,
- Study: Brain metabolism linked to intelligence in young adults
- Intelligence and the brain’s energy consumption: what is intelligence?
- The relationship between intelligence and anxiety: an association with subcortical white matter metabolism
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” — Edith Sitwell
Thursday, Dec. 21, 2023, marks the day of the winter solstice, which is also the official start of winter in the US.
As a first-generation immigrant living here, it initially made little sense to me. I had been braving the cold since mid-October, and yet, winter was only just beginning. It felt as though those months of cold did not count.
But for me, the winter solstice is not the start but the end of winter.
The idea that winter starts on the day of the winter solstice is tied to the fact that the coldest days and months are still ahead. For some, it signifies the need to brace for visits from the polar express, blizzards, ice storms, and a twenty-day stretch of fog.
Besides gloom and doom of weather ahead, the arrival of the winter solstice is a hopeful day for me. It is an important psychological landmark that from this day on, daylight WILL NOT BE GETTING ANY SHORTER. I could not have said it any louder.
From this day forward, the length of daylight will creep upward by a few minutes a day initially, and then, at an ever-accelerating pace. About forty days from now by the end of January the length of daylight will be forty-nine minutes longer. For me, the prospect of longer days is a much more cheerful thought and holds the strength to overcome the negativity of coldest days being still ahead of us.
Winter solstice is a symbol that the worst is over. It symbolizes that darkness hit bottom and although the journey to the surface would be slow, and a sense of the comfort of days with longer duration of daylight will take a while to set in, life is now moving in the correct direction.
The winter solstice also brings with it the promise of another spring down the road, and universe willing, I will be around to enjoy the freedom of summer once again.
It is not that I do not like winter. I do. Winter is a wonderful time for introspection. It is a time when by the time December 21 arrives, the sun is already setting behind the bare trees by 5 pm and as the darkness sets in, it feels like I am safe inside the cocoon and the safety our home has to offer.
There may still be three more months of winter, and I may have to shovel snow, a task I’m not particularly fond of, but on the winter solstice, I know that each day will bring additional minutes of daylight. That thought alone is enough moral support to get me through the next three months of colder temperatures, gray days, and snow.
I hope you do not think I am odd for suggesting that today, rather than marking the start of winter, symbolizes its end. But if I do come across as such, I hope that somewhere in your mind, you can appreciate the psychological significance of the winter solstice and relate to my feelings.
Winter solstice is the day when being in the depths of darkness the only way forward is towards more light. For what more one can hope?
Ciao.
Free will: Do we or do we not have choices, that may be a question, but is it worth pondering?
It is a brilliant crisp day in autumn; a day of unparalleled beauty and serenity, with nature orchestrating a breathtaking palette of colors (and also emotions). The air is filled with a refreshing crispness that invigorates the senses and carries an aroma of fallen leaves that only autumn can bring.
Looking upward one sees the sky with a flawless shade of blue. The slanting rays of sunlight fall on everything in a warm, golden glow, casting long, enchanting shadows on the ground.
The trees, draped in color, stand proudly in the backdrop of the blue sky.
In this brilliance of an autumn afternoon, sitting in a car, I am driving listening to a psychology podcast and the topic is free will. The podcasters and his guest are discussing whether we have free will or whether we don’t.
It is obviously an important topic with implications for who bears the moral responsibility for actions, and by extension for the legal system as to how punishments should be framed.
Free will is also important for the smooth functioning of society. It is easier to manage a society and put checks and balances in place with the premise of free will as the foundation. Try managing a social structure when people are not responsible for their actions.
Listening to two people talk on the podcast, debate, and banter (often acrimoniously) various nuances behind the notion of free will, I am beginning to wonder who really cares about the subject matter. What segment of human society at this moment is thinking about the question of free will.
Entangled is that question is also the notion of equity. What fraction of humanity even has the wherewithal to ponder over such matters?
Given the reality of living and the amount of mental and physical resources it takes to keep our head above water, in large parts of the global population, people do not have the luxury to dwell on such issues.
It is not unlike the instance when I had realized that drinking a cup of earl gray on a winter morning with my hands wrapped around a warm cup hides a has lot more to it. My ability to do so is an outcrop of inequality; not many have the luxury to do so.
Even in the developed countries where people have financial wherewithal and have the luxury of discretionary time, it is so much easier to follow the path that requires least action than wondering about free will and its consequences.
Urges to contemplate free get trumped by the ease of engaging in social media, for example.
The podcast drags on, the discussion drifts into places that do not seem to be of any relevance to 99.9% of humanity. I am getting close to my destination and have to get off at the next exit and navigate through the neighborhood roads to get to where I need to be.
To focus, I reach out and turn off the podcast. Perhaps that was an act of my free will.
Our protagonists on the podcast can continue debating about free will in the ether. I have an appointment to keep, and it is more important than whether I do or don’t have free will. If I am late, and the penalty I have to pay as a consequence is weightier than the question of free will.
With or without free will, clocks will keep ticking, time will keep its unidirectional march, and I will remain mortal and will confront its consequences. Perhaps in another time and place the question of “free will” will hold a higher significance.
But not today.
Ciao.
It was the morning after the wedding
that went late into the night.
The floor told the story
of the nocturnal celebration
with a scattering of
petals of red roses
and of yellow marigolds,
some crushed, some bruised,
while some others
survived untouched, by sheer luck.
Looking at the empty hall,
Natalie, the event organizer, wondered,
"Now that this is over,
where should I go next?"
Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana
How many methods are there to measure time? Let us count the ways.
Time it takes for the Earth to rotate once around its axis. A day.
Time it takes for the moon to go around the Earth. A month.
Time it takes for the Earth to go around the sun. A year.
Or if one wants to get esoteric, and precise, then the span over which 9,192,631,770 transitions between two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the Cesium-133 atom occurs is the standard for a second. Go figure, whatever that means. Understanding that will take too many hours of my time!
Somewhere along the trajectory of human civilization a day got divided into twenty-four hours, an hour into 60 minutes, a minute into 60 seconds. These numbers seem arbitrary as they are not related to (periodic) movement of celestial bodies which are a natural way to measure time.
A little help from Bing tells that the origin of 24 hours in a day, or 60 seconds in an hour came from Babylonians and Egyptians.
The Babylonians, around 2,000 BCE, used a base-60 numbering system known as the sexagesimal system, which probably is the origin of dividing an hour into 60 minutes.
The ancient Egyptians are credited to the division of the day into 24 hours. They used sundials and water clocks (clepsydra) to track the passage of time. The day was divided into ten hours of daylight and ten hours of night, with two twilight hours added at the beginning and end of the day.
Slowly, the 24-hour day became more standardized and widely adopted in the Roman period and has persisted and remains the standard for measuring time in many cultures around the world.
Then there are various notions of time that depend on disciplines of knowledge — Geological time (eons, eras, periods, epochs); Biological time (lifespans of organisms, growth rates, heart beat per second, circadian rhythms, evolutionary time); Economic measures of time (financial years, quarters) Climate measures of time (solar cycle, oscillations in climate data on years, decades, centuries, or even millennia).
Among all the ways to either measure or conceptualize time, time also has the weirdness of being a subjective experience and varies from person-to-person and also varies within one’s life. Our perception of the passage of time, and how we process and remember events, is truly a mind warping experience.
Time can drag on when bored or anxious; it flies when engaged in enjoyable activities. One can also get into the flow and lose the notion of time altogether.
This subjective time dilation or contraction can make it seem as though time does not always flow at a consistent rate. Sometimes it goes bananas!
There is also a feeling that time seems to pass more quickly and goes through “time compression” as we get older. When we’re young, a year might represent a larger portion of life we had, making it seem longer. As we get older, each year becomes a smaller percentage of our total life, leading to the perception that time is passing more quickly.
Exponential changes in technology and cultural shifts have also contributed to a perception of time passing quickly. The increasing flow of information and the increasing pace of modern life may also create the impression that time is moving faster.
All these examples point to an often distorted perception of time. One weird distortion is that month seems to fly by (and before you know, it is time to pay bills again) while a year seems quite long.
At other times, a year seems to go in a hurry, and yet, years of childhood seem to be eons away. Trying to imagine ourselves 50-years agomight as well be trying to peek before the Big Bang.
One of the most bizarre aspects of time is that if one counts life in number of years vs. number of days, and two create a different impressions for how long we are going to live. Living 80 years feels like an adequate life span but living for 29,200 days, ummm, not so much.
I guess measuring life in the number of days is a weird concept. We do not go around saying that an acquaintance is 32,850 days old now.
For that matter, looking at the lifespan in the number of weeks all laid out on a page just feels creepy. An entire life laid out on a half sheet of paper; that is all we have to live?
Now that I am older, there is also a tendency to begin to look at life based on different measures. Being in the middle of my sixties, a thought comes that I would perhaps see our son 20–30 more times and that becomes an awfully small measure of time and also a depressing and disconcerting thought.
On the same lines, perhaps I will see my sister in India five more times or less. The measure of life becomes even smaller.
Measuring time in how few instances you have left to repeat something makes the heart skip a few beats.
It also makes you realize how short our remaining existence could be.
So yes, there are many objective and subjective ways to measure time and within those options certain ways of perceiving time make us look at our existence through a different set of glasses.
Some of those glasses have a way of magnifying mortality.
Ciao.
The inertia of the mind urges it to slide down the easy slope of imagination, rather than to climb the steep slope of introspection. Marcel Proust
Inertia: a property of matter following which a body remains at rest or in uniform motion unless acted upon by some external force.
In the physical realm of material objects, it is hard to start moving from the position of rest. Similarly, when moving, objects prefer to keep, well, just moving.
This tendency of material objects is encapsulated as Newton’s first law of motion. Bringing any change requires a force that is exerted by something external to the object.
In life a similar law of inertia also plays out. Although the premise is not material objects but our psychological dimensions, the concept is the same. It is hard to deviate from the status quo.
It is not easy to get started on new activities (and turn them into habits), or once habits are in place, a conscious effort is required to make a change.
I witnessed this tendency again recently in a habit I picked up, and now I am having a challenging time breaking out of it.
The habit has to do with taking vitamin B-complex supplements.
The reason I got started down this road is the strange affliction of dermatographia I have been struggling with for about one year. I have no clue what triggered it. It is nothing life threatening but is affecting quality of life as a minor incidence of scratching can devolve into intense episodes of itching that leave me exhausted and panting.
Another fall out is that the symptoms exacerbate in the night and wake me up a couple of times, and thereby, have been interrupting sleep.
Not knowing the cause behind it, the mind naturally goes exploring in different directions and brings up different hypotheses for possible attribution. Perhaps, mind wonders, it is a manifestation of something else more serious out of whack in the body that I do not yet know about. Perhaps it is a sign of some nutrient deficiency like lack of some amino acid or vitamin in my diet.
If it is the deficiency of some vitamin, the mind argues, why not throw the kitchen sink at it and take vitamin B-complex. In doing so, perhaps something will click, and the ailment will be cured.
That is how I got started down the path of starting to take the vitamin B-complex, and now I am finding it hard to get out of the a habit it has become.
There are a myriad of reasons for not being able to change the status quo and stop taking B-complex. The reasons are embedded in strange twists and turns of human psychology.
After a couple of months of being on the regimen, I am not quite sure it has helped or not, but when I think about stopping, a thought creeps in and says what if the “positive” influence of pill is subtle and if you stop you will slide back.
The argument hints to the psychological fear of missing out (FOMO). I am not sure what positive effect the B-complex is having but if it has, stopping is only going to have an adverse impact.
Mixed with FOMO, and a closely related psychological factor is the fear of regression.
There is a thought that says that discontinuing the supplement will result in a return to my previous health problem. Mind you, I am not quite sure if the problem has gone away, but by stopping I do not want to disturb the balance of the universe and take two steps back.
The other obvious culprit is psychological inertia. After two months, taking a supplement has become a daily habit and now is part of my morning routine going through which feels comforting.
Breaking habits, even those with uncertain benefits, is a challenge due to some deep-seated psychological aspects — FOMO, fear of regression, and a tendency to maintain status quo.
Why try to fix something that is not broken?
So, for now, following the law of (psychological) inertia I continue to take a pill of B-complex each morning.
Perhaps what I should do is to start taking it on alternate days, and if nothing feels different then after a while, take it every three days. After a while perhaps I will forget to take the pill once in a while and one day, I will just stop.
From that day on, if nothing else, then I will save some hard-earned money.
Ciao.
Life is a preparation for the future; and the best preparation for the future is to live as if there were none — Albert Einstein
When looking:
Eyes can only see
The colors of the rainbow,
The shapes of the clouds,
The objects of the world.
Only when they are close,
The extent of space and time
Becomes apparent.
It is the paradox of
What is seen is limited.
When listening:
Ears can only hear
The sounds of the wind,
The noises of the street,
The voices of the people.
Only when they are covered,
The whisperings of unknown
Become audible.
It is the paradox of
What is heard is limited.
When perceiving:
The mind can only learn,
What is already known.
Only when it is empty,
The possibilities of what is beyond
Become discernible.
It is the paradox of
What is learned is limited.
1. Introduction
The internalization of mortality, the recognition and acceptance of our finite existence, has the power to transform our lives in profound ways.
Before internalizing mortality, life is characterized by a sense of invincibility and the pursuit of transient pleasures. However, after this existential awakening, we often experience a shift in priorities, values, and perspectives, embracing life with a newfound sense of purpose, gratitude, and wisdom.
In this following, some aspects of contrasts between life before and after the internalization of mortality are highlighted.
2. Life before the Internalization of Mortality
Before individuals internalize their mortality, they may lead lives characterized by certain common themes:
1. Invincibility and Risk-Taking: The perception of invincibility often prevails at the young age when getting old and dying is something that happens to others, leading to risk-taking behavior. The consequences may seem distant, and life becomes a daring adventure.
2. Superficial Pursuits: Pursuits may lean toward superficial, materialistic, and hedonistic goals, such as the relentless pursuit of wealth, fame, and momentary pleasures.
3. Time Mismanagement: Time is often squandered on trivial or unfulfilling activities, and individuals may procrastinate when it comes to addressing what truly matters to them.
4. Neglect of Relationships: Meaningful relationships may take a back seat, as the focus on individual pursuits overshadows the importance of nurturing connections with loved ones.
5. Fear of Aging and Mortality: Youth and vitality are prized, and aging is often feared. The concept of mortality may be pushed to the periphery of one’s consciousness.
3. Life After the Internalization of Mortality
The internalization of mortality reshapes the way we perceive and live our lives:
1. Prioritizing Meaningful Experiences: Life takes on new meaning as individuals prioritize meaningful experiences over superficial pleasures. Time becomes a precious resource, motivating the pursuit of fulfilling and enriching moments.
2. Embracing the Present: The past is accepted, and the future, no longer taken for granted, driving a renewed focus on living in the present moment. Every day is seen as an opportunity to make the most of life.
3. Search for Meaning and Purpose: The recognition of mortality inspires a quest for meaning and purpose, leading individuals to explore their passions, values, and contributions to the world.
4. Deepening Relationships: The importance of relationships becomes paramount. Time spent with loved ones is cherished, and there is a greater commitment to nurturing and building strong connections.
5. Reduced Fear and Anxiety: Internalizing mortality can lead to a reduction in fear and anxiety. With the knowledge that life is finite, individuals find greater resilience in facing life’s challenges and confronting the unknown.
6. Reflection and Self-Improvement: Self-reflection becomes a regular practice, fostering self-improvement, self-awareness, and personal growth. There is a desire to become a better version of oneself.
7. Legacy and Contribution: People seek to make a lasting impact on the world, leaving a meaningful legacy through their actions and contributions. This is motivated by a desire to be remembered for positive, lasting deeds.
8. Spirituality and Philosophy: Many individuals turn to spirituality or philosophy as a means of grappling with the concept of mortality, finding solace and guidance in different belief systems or building their own.
Conclusion
The internalization of mortality is a profound awakening that can dramatically alter the trajectory of one’s life.
Life before this realization is often characterized by superficial pursuits. In contrast, life after the internalization of mortality embraces the present, prioritizes meaningful experiences, and seeks to make a positive impact on the world.
Life after the internalization of mortality becomes a journey of self-discovery, personal growth, and a deepening connection to the essence of life itself.
While the acknowledgment of mortality may at first seem disorienting, it can ultimately lead to a life lived with purpose, authenticity, and an appreciation for having a golden croissant in the morning.
The internalization of mortality makes one humble and urges us to let go of the physical and psychological baggage that we habitually carry.
Ciao.
Northern hemisphere and it is the month of October.
The place where I live at about 30o N, October is the month of transition from summer to winter. There is chill in the air and even if there were no calendars to look at, there are enough signs all around that changes are happening. Buddhist followers would say not to be surprised because impermanence is a fundamental tenet in the universe. And for a good measure they would have also added that clinging to things and wishing them not to change is an invitation to suffering.
But philosophy aside, October and autumn are wonderful times of year when the soul wants to transition into a few months of introspection. And of course, there will be no more yard work to do — cut the grass, weed the flower bed, protect the tomatoes vines from cutworms.
When October arrives, the Sun no longer stays so high in the sky and leaves are changing color. By 7pm it is dark outside, but inside, it feels like we are inside a cocoon and feeling safe and warm.
October is a lovely time of transition that connects summer and winter. Going through the transition there are gentle tides of emotions within that feel delightful and nostalgic.
One nostalgia is about my childhood days growing up India. October would have been the time to bring out the quilts for their storage and put them under the sun to get the smell of mustiness slowly evaporate in the air. I can see myself burying my face in the warmth of those quilts to take in musty aroma and feel the vague nostalgia of the passage of time. Then I did not know what those emotions meant but they felt like there is a place somewhere in which days pass slowly under a crisp blue sky and winds bring the sounds of someone playing flute at a distance..
The fact is that going from summer to winter is a time for and remembrance of transitions.
With the notion of transition, I am reminded of two modes of living I have been through. What separated them was the awareness and internalization of mortality.
Before that transition mortality was just a passing thought, a meh that happened to others and was none of my concern.
In life after the internalization of mortality there was an awareness that I share the same fate as everything around me; my time, my days are also numbered.
The internalization of mortality brought changes in perspective on how I view the world, what I strive for and why, what does the passage of time means.
The internalization of mortality was like looking at the world with different glasses. It was like going to an optometrist and a new prescription glass gets fitted, and when you walk out of the front door, the world holds a crispness that you were not aware existed.
The footprints change in perspective were evident during the recent example of my recent visit to Milan.
While there, I did desire to rush and strive and to visit every Duomo or Piazza that were listed in the travel guide. There was a sense of realization that within the city there are so many monuments, nooks, and crannies that have an equally long history but there will never be enough time to see them all.
Heck, in the place I have been living for the past 30 years we have not yet visited places that tourists come to see.
Instead, it was much more pleasurable to go around at a leisurely pace seeing what one can, and then take a break to have a nice long lunch or dinner, or a cup of coffee with a fluffy buttery croissant.
That golden croissant would be remembered for a long time. What would not be remembered is flashes of camera and ending up with five hundred pictures that I would not ever have time to look through again.
The internalization of mortality, paradoxically, lets the pace of life slow down. The realization that time is finite does not result in a mad rush to try to do everything or checking every box from the bucket list. Instead, it urges to be mindful of the quality time spent on checking of a few boxes that one can.
The internalization of mortality should be the motto for the slow life movement. It is the proverbial suggestion to slow down and appreciate life. Now I also have an urge to also type slowly and be thoughtful before the tips of my fingers hit the keyboard.
Soon it will be winter. A time for introspection. However, by the end of January I would be dreaming about going to some tropical island. I would be dreaming about spring and summer and freedom of stepping out on the back porch again. With patience, winter will slowly roll over into summer.
But not so with the transition that the internalization of mortality brings. It is a one-way journey. Once the mortality sets in there is no going back. I don’t even want it to happen. Life afterwards is more mindful, humble, and expansive.
Ciao.
24 November 2023 morning. As is part of my perfunctory morning routine, I
have a warm cup of earl gray in my hand and settle down to look through
the headlines.
The top news this morning is “Pause in fighting, paving way for release of captives.”
The headline is about war going in Gaza and death and destruction it has caused since 7 October 2023.
The headline is telling us that there will be a mediated pause in
fighting. A semblance of a civilized world will be restored for a couple
of days.
Perhaps for a few days the dust will settle down and the noise of
explosions will give way to silence, amongst which cries of humanity
resulting from its loss can be heard.
There will be a pause in which children and their families will not be
on the run from one shelter to another and for a few nights will have
the blessing of uninterrupted sleep.
The mention of pause also conjures up an image that a couple days an
invisible hand will press a button and the paused brutalities of war
will resume.
The thought conjures up the image of a movie where in the middle of an
action sequence everything gets frozen in midair and after a few seconds
when time resumes, and broken pieces of bones fall on the ground.
The pause is like the freeze time effect in movies.
And so, in a few days the pause in the war would be over. During that
time, a few prisoners and hostages will be released or exchanged. After
that the fighting would resume and inevitably more would die.
The absurdity of it all - exchange few human souls, but later extinguish souls of many more - should be apparent.
Guess that is how the human mind works.
In finiteness a quest for eternity is born
Midlife is the time to
let go of an over dominant ego and to contemplate the deeper significance of
human existence ― Carl Gustav Jung
Twenty years. Thirty years.
Or it could be just one more moment, one more day, or one more month.
There is no way of telling what it would be. It is perhaps something one does not want to know either.
What would happen if the moment was known?
When far, it would just be an ephemeral thought.
Sure, one day it will get closer but for now the time between here and
then is long enough for few galaxies to form, few stars to born, few
civilizations to evolve.
Or so it seems.
But gradually the moment keeps getting closer and becomes harder and harder to ignore.
And then…
…one day a realization that it is destined to happen dawns and decides to stay.
Time is no longer as bountiful as it once seemed to be. It suddenly feels compressed.
What is ahead is certainly not long enough for galaxies to form. It may
not even be enough for a caterpillar to become a chrysalis and turn into
a butterfly.
Yet, within this narrowing corridor of time, a transformation happens.
The brevity of what is left makes it so much more precious.
In its finiteness lurks the promise of touching eternity.
In finiteness a quest for eternity is born.
Imagine a life that is lived with the cognizance of morality and another without.
Of course, you might argue that a life can never be lived without the cognizance of mortality because mortality is all around us. To that, I would say that yes, that is true but the difference I am focusing on is between a life that sees mortality but does not quite register it in its consciousness and contrast it with a life that not only sees mortality, but over time also internalizes it as a personal destiny.
With that understanding, the question I am pondering is how would two lives differ?
The intent is not to make a judgement as to which life may be better but is to query a hypothetical scenario: if two such sets of populations were to exist then how the average lives of individuals between them would differ.
Since I now transitioned over to the set of population in which mortality is recognized and internalized, I can share a few thoughts about the influence the internalization of mortality has on living.
The internalization of mortality brings a sense of humbleness. The touch of mortality reminds that the arrogance of “I” will eventually be subdued by something bigger than “I”.
“I”, after all, am not the master of the Universe. The arms of the galaxy do not revolve around us.
The realization of mortality also alters perspective on various aspects of life. It makes us question the aspirations we have and goals we so ardently pursue. It makes us question the point of carrying on grudges forever or pushing ourselves beyond necessity so as to climb another rung on the ladder of success at the expense of other experiences in life.
One day no matter how many sacrifices one has made to reach the sky, mortality would politely ask to please climb down and follow it.
The realization of mortality suggests slowing down to feel the pleasure of engaging in activities a little more mindfully. It tells us that there are a billion things to see and do, however, the time at our disposal is finite. Given that, there is no need to try to check as many boxes as we can because no matter how many are checked, there will still be a billion more left to be checked. Instead, mortality suggests to us, checking boxes should not be the goal, it should be enjoying the process of getting there.
Mortality tells us that it is the enjoyment of engaging in activities that is going to matter and will be remembered. Not much would be remembered when rushing through the fields of lavender at a made pace.
The internalization of mortality speaks to us about the importance of the present and of the limited time that is given to us. The boat we are in is slowly, but inadvertently, drifting with the current towards a waterfall. A month lost in trivialities is never regained, it says.
A life with the presence of mortality is sobering, humbling, calming, grounding. Even more so, and in a strange way, by reminding us of our limits, it also liberates us from the shackles of time.
Ciao.
Some time back I, like countless others who have lived on the Earth before, or are living now, or will live in the future, I had some musings on “is it even possible to ever come to terms with our
mortality (and the thought that when life end it *really* ends) and develop a way to live and have a functional life?”
Two being together is a paradox; a dysfunctional couple hobbling along and never enjoying moments of harmony or peace.
Like all paradoxes, perhaps the paradox of mortality and living cannot be resolved but can only be managed. Think about “everything I say is a lie.” There is no exit ramp on the highway of this paradox.
In the context of managing this particular paradox, strategies have been developed to wriggle our way out of it. Foremost among them is accepting the path of religion which offers us the olive branch that after our death we continue to exist in some form.
All these solutions resolve the paradox by eliminating one pole of the paradox itself, i.e., when life ends it really does not end, and with that, and one side of the paradox eliminated, it is easy to think about living a functional life.
The other extreme of possibilities, of course, is that the short span of time is all there is given to us and all we could do is to accept and try to reconcile with this notion and have a functional life.
One of the primary consequences of the harboring this thought is that when we get a respite from the daily grind of living and want to sit back and take a bird’s eye view of life in front of is, then occasionally, there pops up an uncomfortable feeling (or a question) why in the world we have been doing what we have been doing?
All the rat race, the politicking, and the conniving, holding petty grudges! Really? Tomorrow, we can fall off the cliff and holding grudges will not make us lighter.
With the notion of a finite existence, everything we do in between can feel so profoundly absurd.
Feeling that the motions we go through are at best absurd, what are the options available to us to live with the absurdity and have a functional life?
While there is no cure for mortality and the feeling of absurdity it can bring, a possible path forward is to accept their consequences and carve a way to live that can soothe the bluntness with which the realization of mortality can push against our flesh.
A possible path is to discover what we value in life and develop a portfolio of activities that aligns with those values. The way to know what we value is to recognize the activities that bring feelings of happiness, sense of accomplishments, emotions of connectedness that transcend our finite self.
Although the paradox of mortality and living would remain a paradox, the approach can still allow us to have a functional, creative, and meaningful life that is occasionally punctuated by the humbleness that mortality can bring.
Recognizing what we value, what activities allow us to realize what we value, building a portfolio of engagements of such activities is the key to be able to live with the cognizance of mortality, and to have a functional life.
May such a portfolio of engagements be with us.
Ciao.