New Year; Beta You
This January, I noticed a lot of ads, links, and email subject lines with the cliché, “New Year; New You.” The copywriters weren’t even trying. The standard articles on resolutions had an air of exhaustion too: “Here’s Why They Don’t Work,” etc.
One meme was more honest: “New Year; Same You.”
We don’t have to take this cynically. Understanding resolutions are too short-term as a solution could illustrate our greater self-awareness. The long-held metaphor of a human being as a “blank slate” we can easily write upon has been a philosophical and scientific fixation for centuries.
Steven Pinker at Harvard is one of the most vocal spokespeople for newer research that says we are far from blank slates. Much of our biology still acts like we are nomads living in the wild. Our DNA carries ancient dalliances with Neanderthals and the recent traumas of our direct ancestors. Human consciousness carries a lot of physical baggage.
This rings true to someone like me, teaching students the value of creativity and the effort it requires. Many students would rather follow their instincts like many copywriters go for the cliché. Yet we can’t trust our biology. My favorite teaching example of this is public speaking, which comes up in both my writing and project-planning courses.
In the age of PowerPoint, Ted Talks, and Moth raconteurs, we would all like to feel more comfortable presenting from a podium, but making a speech remains one of our greatest fears. When we want to appear casual and confident sharing our thoughts, our organic cells pull what seems like a fraternity prank.
To the average human body, standing in front of a crowd is a threat. The emotional center of our brain triggers the management center that triggers a flood of adrenaline meant for a prehistoric individual coming upon a lion on the Serengeti Plain. It sends us into fight-or-flight mode.
The heart pumps blood to the muscles, so we blush and tense up. An increase in oxygen and a release of blood sugar makes us breath heavier, sweat, and become nauseous. The body prepares to make us lighter by dropping unnecessary weight in the digestive system from wherever is convenient.
Instead of creating the calmness necessary for a good relaxed talk between you and your audience, the body puts you in a position to either punch someone’s lights out or empty your bowels and bolt like a frightened antelope.
Our genetics haven’t fully synched with our lifestyles since before someone learned to sow seeds in an agricultural field and build a home.
But we can still create harmony between our modern behaviors and desires. It happens all the time with hard work. We alter muscle memory and become graceful athletes in the latest variations on sport. We find flow as artists or become that powerful speaker—but the level of effort required makes successful people into celebrities.
Slate-writing takes dedication and resources. To create a well-executed triple-axel or a novel, one must work repetitively for years, believe in the possibility of change, and make difficult innovations look the picture of ease. As a society, we create spaces where human passion is supported and rewarded, like Hollywood, the TED Conference, and the Olympics.
Outside of these places, we are far more likely to default to “instinct” or tradition, because we don’t have the means or encouragement to resist. Popular narratives tell us to follow our heart or our gut or “that little voice inside” more than they ever tell us to trust in what we build around and within ourselves over the long-term.
I encourage students to think of their work and themselves as drafts on an already crowded blackboard. What is natural often hinders or kills us. It’s what we invent with chalk and an eraser that makes life on Earth more bearable.