Here's a topic for everone to think about today: How much does one ego prevent them from succeeding in life? Now, I'm not referring to an overblown ego. I'm not talking about that guy who struts his shit down the street all the while the people that know him understand that he's a complete asshole, thinking of nothing but himself. There are definitely people with large egos, who think they are the best of the best, and it's obvious why they might be held back in life. Confidence is confidence, but an overblown ego is very transparant and quickly identified as such. What I'm referring to is a whole different animal all together. In fact, it's most dangerous when the person afflicted doesn't even realize it's there.
I wake up every morning with the same routine: brush my teeth, take a shower, put on my clothes, and head to work. On a good day I might even have breakfast. Maybe. And every day I bide my time at work, whittling away the hours immersed in projects both assigned and personally created, until that four o'clock bell rings and I can head home. Sometimes I'll play a little softball, sometimes I'll work out, sometimes I'll just relax at home reading a book. There are no signs there to indicate an ego the size of the Texas sky and every night ends with my head comfortably on my pillow, with the subconscious knowledge of this fact. This is when I start thinking of the possibilities (a habit of mine that borders on the neurotic and, clinically, is probably not considered very healthy). As my eyes close and my brain starts to shut down, setting my body in a restful state for the night, I can't help but wonder: is my ego too big?
I'm a very modest person. I don't know if anybody will tell you otherwise. And I use myself as the subject in this line of thought for lack of a better reason other than it's easiest to pick my own brain. I also use the term "ego" for a lack of a better term, for I do not think it necesarily fits the exact definition of this affliction I talk about. More accurately, what I refer to is the function of the self-conscious to protect itself, to reason in such a way as to make the self as safe as possible in a world of conflict and risk. Risk? What is this risk? The risk of failure, the risk of getting hurt, the risk of disappointment...the list goes on and on. Conflict? Are we evolutionarily designed to minimize risk as much as possible? Isn't that how we have survived this long? By avoiding the lions and tigers we've avoided the avoidable risk, sneaked our way past the conflict, and discovered a way to make ourselves the predators. No more risk. Predatorial conflict is a thing of the past. These days we resign ourselves to be primarily susceptible either emotionally or mentally.
This is where I start questioning ego and the sense of self-protection. Are we hard-wired to avoid confrontation? To skirt our way around conflict? To minimize risk in order to preserve our sense of safety? The answer is obviously no, because most people are willing to take a shot at something, knowing that the payoff for whatever susceptibility they impose on themself is far greater than the harm that may be done. For the most part, though, this is not a conscious decision. There is far too much processing of information for this to occur on the surface of the brain, nor does it really need to be. It works, and it's enough to get us by. But what if it doesn't always work? What if there are people out there that don't have this ability? Or, if they do, it doesn't work as optimally as it should? I wonder if these people use the danger of failure, the danger of consequences, to prevent them from acting.
Any basic science class will tell you that electricity always flows through the path of least resistance. Obviously, the electrons don't reason this out for themselves, they just follow these rules that have been layed out for them. Can people do this too? Follow a path that takes them to the end, but through the easiest possible path? And what are they missing by living this way? Imagine you're in a store and your eyes wander to the face of an attractive girl (I think I've used this situation before. What does that say about me?). You walk on over to her, say hello, and start a pleasant conversation which eventually leads to a date and who knows what else. You realized, somewhere in that brain of yours, that although rejection is a bitch, the benefits of taking the risk far outweigh the risk. Now, what if you see that same girl and don't even think of approaching her. The thought doesn't even enter your mind. The furthest you get is realizing that she's attractive and instead of approaching her, you walk on past her not giving it a second thought. Your brain decided that there was a potential risk and avoided any possible situations in which you might get hurt. You ego has been saved once again. The result, obviously, is a boring life. No risk, no reward. The road most travelled has been paved over for the disabled, and that's what you've effectively become emotionally.
Now, I say all those simply out of conjecture. I do believe this exists. It's very easy to play it safe and if it's taken me this to long to come up with a very obvious conclusion, then I apologize. Really, though, it's the thought process that interests me. When it comes down to it, I think that it's very possibly to train yourself to be more adventurous, to stick your neck out there when appropriate, and reap the rewards. All it takes is a sense of self-awareness and the willingness to lose every now and then. But understanding this condition is the key element in solving it. Letting that wall down is only possible when it's no longer at your back and you can see it for what it is. Ego is not something to be protected, but something to be tested and built upon. Only by taking risk does one fulfull their potential and in the end up with a stronger ego than when they started.
Today's reflective thought: Hypothetical mental states that elicit heated discussions are usually not very hypothetical.
Bonus quote of the day: "Mother did it need to be so high?" - Mother, Pink Floyd
