Image by Avi Chomotovski from Pixabay
The other day I read an article about the danger of pursuing self-actualization at all costs. Part of the argument was that Carl Jung and Friedrich Nietzsche had done exactly that and ended up going mad—literally, although Jung snapped out of it. Nietzsche, however, spent the last twelve years of his life in a “near catatonic state.”
Twelve years? Damn! What a sad way for a brilliant and talented man to end his life. In some contexts, twelve years is the blink of an eye. But in others, it’s a pitifully lengthy span of time for a person to exist only as a collection of biological functions. Alive but unaware; existing but not cognizant. Being cared for, watched over, cleaned up after. But not engaged.
Hearing about his condition made me think: sure, it seemed pitiful that he had no control over his life. But at the same time, what have I done in the last twelve years that’s so important? What will I do with the next twelve that’s any better? I’m employed; I raised a child; I pay my bills and take care of my responsibilities. But that doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Doesn’t everyone do that? Isn’t it essentially just breaking even? Should I strive for more?
I’ve admired many people who have positively influenced the world, be they scientists, writers, artists, or activists. I’m interested in them and in many ways inspired by them. But there’s also a catch: I don’t want to play their games. The ones where you have to convince others to hear you, see you, and buy from you. A writer needs to sell content. A scientist has to prove his theories. Activists must persuade others to join their causes. I’m not interested in doing any of that. Is that any better than being in a catatonic state?
From a personal perspective, the answer is certainly yes. I’m doing mostly what I want in life, and in the areas where I have less control, I’m pursuing solutions. From a societal angle, however, maybe there isn’t much difference between a catatonic state (or vegetative/demented one in the case of those who are ill) and a life where one doesn’t engage much with the outside world. It begs the question: is that okay?
Reading that article about Nietzsche leads me to answer no to that simple question. Because in the reading, I re-learned about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs (of course I’d come across it earlier in life, but hadn’t thought about it much lately.) The author, Keith R. Wilson, argued that Nietzsche’s fatal flaw was his ignoring of baser needs in his search for his personal holy grail:
It’s premature to be striving for self-actualization when needs for self-esteem and belonging are wanting.
Makes sense. No argument from me. The author states we simply need others. And that as we struggle to find ourselves we need not reject others who are finding themselves. We can all pursue what we need or want without succumbing to total isolation. We don’t have to follow in Nietzche’s footsteps.
But sometimes I want total isolation. I think everyone does. And that’s okay. But an existence void of at least a few friendly souls means there’s no one there to tell me my fly is down or there’s popcorn stuck in my teeth. Or that I’m turning into a nutcase.
The more important question, however, is this: is pursuing only what I think is valuable, enjoyable, and interesting a good enough philosophy on which to build a life? (Short answer: yes.) Or will it slowly but irrevocably turn me to stone, like it did to Nietzsche? Then, will it matter if I turn to stone as long as I’m not aware of it? And finally, if I don’t do (mostly) what I want with my life, wouldn’t that be like turning to stone anyway except that I would be aware of it?
I’ve heard often enough that we should not let fear make our decisions. But I think fear of emotional and intellectual catatonia is a worthy motivator. I want my last twelve years, whenever they may be (and especially if I’m already in their midst), to be vital and worth it. I admire Nietzsche’s struggle to pursue his authentic self, but I don’t want to be like him.
I’ve got some changes to make.