Fieldnote #1: On Taking Life Seriously

This is the first in a series of short observations I'm calling field notes.

A casual remark gaining ground among young people is that we don’t take life too seriously. An alluring statement to plug into a social media profile. After all, the source of its robustness is its weakness. Its truthfulness, by extension, means you delight in showing little concern for finding a stronger explanation for your behaviour. A convenient and humble stance to align with. Interestingly, some of the great-thinkers have arrived at a similar conclusion through the exhaustion of analysis. Albert Camus’s absurdism lends itself towards this line of thinking. Why not bathe yourself in an easy-going and unscrupulous way of life when it seems harder than ever to find clarity and purpose?
 
I have doubts this is the actual reason people scrawl this into their dating bios. I will risk the theory that it transmutes insecurities into a point of merit. A post-rationalization of a mired past, re-framed as an attractive lifestyle; Portraying imagery of sun-kissed picnics far removed from world-weary desk-bound characters who set out to best themselves and the world with grim and studious determination.
 
Whatever the case may be, there is danger lurking in our candid use of language. The danger of falling in line with groupthink and its associated mediocrity. Mediocrity in the relative sense, not that the average person is prosaic, but rather that those who are best able to channel their inner creativity tend to possess counter-intuitive dispositions that provide refreshing relief from tradition, and require some distancing from culture. The Tao Te Ching is not just another self-help book.
 
Equally dangerous is adopting the attitude as an excuse for intellectual laziness. It is well understood in neuroscience that the brain is remarkably efficient at using energy and will default to using the least amount of energy needed to complete a task. In the book Thinking Fast and Slow, psychologist Daniel Kahneman demonstrates how the brain has two systems for the comprehension of tasks. The faster, reductive ‘system 1’ runs frequently, only giving way to the more methodically accurate ‘system 2’ when we are confronted with something outside our natural wheelhouse of competence. System 1 is effective at getting us through the day without stress but is essentially a reactive, surface-level type of thinking.
 
Given the decadence and comfort afforded to us by modernity, it’s easier than ever to glide around on autopilot all day. Deep down we all know the rewarding aspects of life come from skill and mastery of difficult subjects. By reading the parts of books or articles that are least engaging to us we stand to learn the most. Why? Because information that is unfamiliar and uncomfortable can break our protective but inaccurate bubbles. Bubbles we create precisely because we avoid such information. Exposure to new perspectives is healthy because we understand largely by contrast. It's only by immersing ourselves in other cultures that we truly appreciate the merits of ours.
 
Lastly, let's look at the position with a philosophical bend.
Maybe you don’t take life too seriously, it’s your prerogative. On the other hand, consider that life takes you seriously. You owe everything you stand for to the wonderment of existence —Consciousness, DNA, millions of years of evolution— Here you are, living in the fastest evolving period of human history. We are all unique, we all have something to give out and express. We can choose to take responsibility for that slice of life, or we can feign that we are merely poor victims of circumstance with no option but to succumb to the unconscious trappings we let a little too close to our souls.