Progress weighs on my thoughts because it’s an imposition of stress. If you don’t have an urge or drive to “get somewhere” you’re viewed very unhealthily. It’s instilled that you need to constantly work. It’s assumed that you’re always primed to learn something new. Hell, the very invention of numbers suggests growth. In what direction, well, what’s the next number? Situated as the animals we are, watching ourselves get older, watching things change from what we’re used to, we’re disposed to rooting for progress. For example, what’s bad about thinking that we’ll bend the arc of history from racism to acceptance? Any progressive worth the moniker would gleefully come aboard that ship.
The longer I let “progress” sink into my stomach, I think it’s a wildly flawed idea. I’ve stated in the past that I no longer believe in it. I said that because all that ever was, or at least the memory of it, and all that ever will be is contained in our awareness right now. Those sentiments alone I’m sure are borrowed from some religious tradition I don’t care to cite, but I think the more important practical breakdown of how that idea works gets ignored. What do you say to yourself, alone, cuddled up with TV and food, about your place in the world and where you’re going? How do we describe “progress,” if, like me, we’ve essentially disavowed the word?
Let me try and start with something that’s, in theory, “simple.” Take an online conversation. There’s plenty to pick from whether you’re arguing with a Hitler 2 supporter or someone deeply offended that a football player wouldn’t stand for the national anthem. Again this in theory, but people should be able to freely share ideas in a thoughtful manner, exercising their American-ness all over the place. Experience shows name-calling, defensive empty professions of the real truth and just my opinions, condescension, logical fallacies, or emotional appeals. Ad Nauseum. If someone does come in and manages to sound reasonable, or at least, persuade the crazy to calm down and perhaps stop responding, often the comments are deleted, hands are thrown up in the air, and we resolve ourselves to the perpetual failures of communication.
For me, to “progress” in that kind of interaction has been about a lot of comment preservation and self-restraint. It stresses me out to see stupid people strongly advocating for stupid things. It makes me want to be mean. It makes me want to dig the hole deeper. So, I measure progress by my ability to save everything they said, respond line by line, and bring to the table what I’ve researched or figured out how to argue in the past. I try to think of myself as a wave and put myself in the eyes of every person who’s been as frustrated as me reading about, oh, say, how racism isn’t really the problem, a lack of patriotism is.
Here I can build a larger holistic sense of progress. I might be the only one willing. I might be the only voice with the patience who’s persuaded himself that it was worth it. We have the personal level; refrain from calling them a cunt. We have the larger picture; I hope to bring silent sympathetic people together. Now, it’s important to note the very selfish reasons I would engage in this behavior. LIke I said, it stresses me out to listen to idiots. If I can get people already on my side to pick up my tools for dealing with, persuading otherwise, or silencing idiots, my world gets more peaceful. Peace of mind is hard for me to maintain.
I look at most things as an opportunity to play the “scale up” game. War gets simple that way. Interpersonal relationships get simple. It’s just this handy tool to help direct where to look and find clues about what to say or when to stay silent. Big problems are a culmination of millions of little excuses. It is your job. It is your responsibility. You’re carrying the torch whether you want to believe it or not. You don’t get “simple” opinions. You can’t cannonball in this pool and only get yourself wet.
I think the strength of making your conception of progress personal is that you literally have to live it. You can feel it each day. For the discernible future, I’ll be going through a shit breakup. I haven’t spent a single day feeling as dramatic as the first time I decided to play the feelings game. To me, that’s progress. I’m able to say, logically, honestly, yes this sucks, but she’s just a person, even though I didn’t want her to just be a person. I can feel the drama in my body and you’ll hear the joke on my tongue or read the words not typed through tears. It doesn’t mean I’m happy, or just feeling nothing, but it means the stress, the pursuit of a peaceful mind, are things I’ve learned how to navigate better. I learned something, even if the story of my personal life is as boring and cliche on the surface as the next person’s.
Progress, to me, is about follow-up. I don’t want to emote and yell, kick, and scream and then just wait around for the opportunity to do it again. I write. I can put myself back in my teenage body like it was yesterday. I can see when I had ridiculous things to say and was just wallowing around in self-pity. That suggests to me that this is what we’re disposed to and taught as children. We don’t get better until we trap our awareness into right now. Feel the horror, judge the words, express boundless joy, because it’s all happening right now. Progress needs to be substituted at that point. It’s now awareness or presence. It’s an honesty or balance. It’s the story of every word that hits you in the moment that it hits you.
I think this is why my disposition or “style” is often taxing on people. They only want one or the other and on their terms. They can’t be manically depressive and happy. They need to have their depressive phases or block out all the unholy darkness of the world and profess how goddamn beautiful it all is and fuck you if you deny it! They want the “deep” conversation when it suits them. They want to follow up when it’s part of their job or they feel very personally they’ve got something to lose. I’m telling you, it’s not enough. You have to make yourself uncomfortable all the time. You have to remind yourself. You have to feel trapped. You have to be genuinely scared. Then you’re allowed access to what allows you to cope with it all. It happens all at once.
I’ve been told that if they had my resources, my one friend would just kick back, buy a motorcycle and just travel for a year. He’s got goals, but he doesn’t stress himself out about setting the same kinds of examples in the same kinds of ways. I’ve referred to myself as having “peaked” several times in the past. I’m housed, I’m fed, I could go find another girlfriend if I wanted to ensure I’d have someone else dissatisfied with me in the future. But I’m always plagued, poked, by this idea that I’m supposed to be setting a more resounding example than “guy on his couch watching TV.”
A holistic progressive conception for me is approaching the world comprehensively and by the numbers. It’s not enough for my mind to “just do good” so to speak. I’m not the Greenpeace volunteer. I’m not the dollar to the Salvation Army. I’m not the advanced degree bringing you into the future whether you like it or not. I’m an accountant. I’m a story-teller. I make connections. Progress is helping you get what you want. It’s relating information in a way that feels scarily personal. It’s making sure nothing slips through the cracks when we’re retelling what’s going on. It’s irresponsible, but in a significant way, my peace lies within you. This means I have to accurately account for you. This means I have to be able to identify how subtle and fluid you can be when you’re lying.
So my mind won’t rest. It won’t rest until I’ve created the tools that take away all of my excuses, and therefore yours. Until then, I get to rehearse. I get to try and speak clearly. I get to try and account and advocate and exercise my voice beyond stupid as fuck memes. Maybe it’ll go long. Maybe it needs to. Maybe 1000 examples of what 2 or 3 pages of dissecting words and feelings will finally signal to you I’m not just in it because I’m so special. I don’t just want to be talking. I don’t want you just to be friends anymore than I wanted my ex to just be a person. It takes time and attention, and dare I say it, bravery, to try and own yourself and how far the wave you create travels.
Don’t drown in someone else’s.
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