Why we are never satisfied

For the first few years of our life, we are completely reliant on outside people (our parents or caretakers) for survival. They give us everything we need (food, warmth, love, etc) because we are unable to get it on our own.

A little later in life, we gain independence, experiment with and find our own unique sense of identity that is separate from our parents and other people and feels true to us, and we become self-sufficient. Generally speaking, by our 20s (arguably younger), we can fully function on our own in the world — hold a job, make big life choices, provide for ourselves, etc. At this point, on paper at least, we are self-sufficient^ⓘThis is true within the bounds of the society we operate. Yes, most of us cannot hunt our own food, but that's fine because the society we live in has grocery stores and restaurants..

We all know childhood experiences shape us in profound and deeply-rooted ways. The fundamental dynamic of childhood is that we depend on something or someone outside of ourselves. By the time we grow up, it has been so etched into our psyche that the things we need are outside of us. Instead of looking to our parents for the thing we need, we now look to the outside world for it.^ⓘThis external orientation develops gradually. First, we receive positive attention and love for simply existing. Then, for what we DO (first words, first steps). Eventually, for what we ARE (smart, pretty). The outside world becomes the place that can reaffirm or threaten that identity.

Luckily for us, the world has organized itself into a bunch of nice, neat systems so we don't even have to decide what we want from it. We just have to decide^ⓘSome systems we are either born into (e.g. religious family) or naturally fall into without realizing (e.g. social hierarchies in high school). what systems we want to participate in and the ideals within that system naturally appear to us as what we want/need.

The thing we “need” is always outside of ourselves. We are looking out into the world and telling ourselves a story about how we will be or feel once we attain this thing.

Each of our stories can sound a little different^ⓘA good way to understand the story we (often subconsciously) tell ourselves is to look at the people at the “top” of whatever system it is and ask ourselves how we imagine they feel — that is probably how we imagine we'll feel once we achieve that thing ourselves.. The spiritual seeker might imagine feeling calm and present 24/7 once they “reach enlightenment”. The financial analyst might imagine feeling like they “made it” and can finally relax once they make partner. Regardless of what the exact story is, the common thread is that we imagine we will feel different (better) than we do now once we achieve this thing that is outside of ourselves.

It is easy to live in that story we repeat to ourselves and forget it's just a story. The root of these stories is projection. We take the dynamic we found ourselves in early on (when we actually did need something outside of ourselves to be ok) and project it onto the societal systems we take part in today.

This is not to say that money, success, marriage, family, ambition, or spiritual practice are bad. They are natural parts of the human experience, and fully participating in them can be deeply meaningful and fulfilling. The thing worth noticing is the story we tell ourselves — that the shift we want within us is on the other side of some 'thing' we have to acquire from the outside world. Once we see it, we can recognize it for what it is: just a story.

My personal journey

I write this from personal experience and my effort to understand my self and my own thought patterns more deeply. For practically my entire life, I told myself a story that the “answer” or the thing I needed was outside of my self. It was always on the other side of some achievement or thing I had to get through the systems I took part in at various points in time.

As a swimmer (ages 7 to 17), I needed to be fast to be respected and admired. I imagined the people who were at the top of that hierarchy must feel complete, accomplished, and like they made it. The story I told myself as a startup CEO (ages 19 to 25) was similar^ⓘIt was the same general narrative, just projected onto a different societal system (the tech world instead of the swimming world).. I needed to be a good CEO, to raise money, and have a good exit to prove myself and be taken seriously by the people I respected. I imagined the founders of the $1B+ companies must feel a sense of inner security and like they had figured something out in themselves or about life that I still hadn’t.

I took a Transcendental Meditation (TM) class a few years ago at a center in New York. I also learned Qi Gong in Hong Kong from a Chinese woman who had been practicing it for 40 years. With each of these practices, I perceived something in the teachers — some way of being that I knew couldn’t be faked^ⓘThey each had such a raw and open presence, unwavering eye contact, a feeling like they had achieved something within themselves. — and just knew “I want that”.

I told myself that if I listen to these people and follow the practice perfectly, I MUST unlock the same state/way of being I saw in them. The teachers each had a sort of reverence for their method, because it genuinely got them to that place personally. They had seen it work.

I spent months trying to do TM every day, 20 minutes, twice a day, forcing myself to make time for it even when I didn't want to because I told myself I have to meditate every day to be how I want. Same thing with Qi Gong. I tried to do it every day and would obsess over the smallest details like if I'm sitting the right way or doing the hand motions right.

None of that stuff actually matters. A recent experience I had helped me see that my whole life, I had been obsessively focused on the finger^ⓘThe finger pointing at the moon is a fantastic and simple concept from Zen Buddhism.. The practice itself (whether TM or Qi Gong or Yoga or meditation or whatever the fuck) doesn't matter. The whole point is the place it gets you. And the irony of the whole thing is that that place is not a destination over there. It is here now and always accessible from within.

I definitely don't have anything “figured out” haha — I still find myself constantly looking outside for things. I think that is just part of being human. Who knows, maybe some yogis or monks who go and meditate alone in the forest for 20 years get to a state of permanent realization. I'm sure that's nice, and good for them if that's what they want to do, but the conclusion I naturally arrive at is the opposite — to fully participate in this brief experience we call life. To let myself forget and get lost in the stories, and then remember, and then forget, and then remember again.