Humans are Nation-States
Thoughts on inner and interpersonal turmoil.
I have long thought of individuals as little nation-states unto themselves, at least under our modern socio-political structure. The grand experiment of Western capitalism — of individual units hustling to move up the hierarchy — has always appeared in my private imagination like tiny countries moving on a map, with borders morphing as one unit gains speed over another.
Can you relate? How do you conceptualize the nature of conflict and “selfhood” in your own life?
I’m in a bit of an existential funk — I’m about to turn 40, and I’m a freelance writer managing multiple gigs. When some of them slow down or come to a close, I move on, and it all feels a bit…unstable…this life of a writer and book professional (which is the life of an artist).
The international arena is of course weighing on me, and I can’t help but draw parallels between the inner and outer. I think about survival and preservation and legacy, just as I imagine government leaders confronting those same topics about the nations they govern. We are each tiny little nation-states requiring self-governance.
To stay grounded, I find myself staring up much of the time — at the translucent clouds of this October season, tinged with gold and fuchsia here in California. And at night I stare at the stars, stretching my neck upwards in order to absorb their full glory, gasping while I walk my dog in the cold air.
I think about survival and preservation and legacy, just as I imagine government leaders confronting those same topics about the nations they govern. We are each tiny little nation-states requiring self-governance.
I don’t know what the equivalent of sky-staring is for actual nations. Perhaps star-gazing is like “keeping in mind the big picture?” But the big picture never seems to be enough for actual nations. And this is where my analogy falls short — as an individual, I feel I can catch myself and course-correct somewhat easily, but the scale of government doesn’t allow that.
I feel like I’m finding myself in the universe all over again, in my own moment of uncertainty, and perhaps nations are doing the same, re-defining their borders and pushing on others and battling for their place on the map, just as we individuals do.
I don’t know what’s next for all of us, but I do know that I’m terrified.
Join a small group from across the country to discuss this letter on October 24th at 5pm PST. Spaces are limited.
Jenara,
Yes. The shakey, grey existential precipice we're walking on is scary, indeed. I wish I had the support of religious hope and reassurance that all will turn out okay. But reality says the world-wide problems are not getting better. The environment, national politics, natural disasters, human suffering...we're circling the drain.
I'm a fairly old lady, so I'm not really worried for my sake. But my grandkids -- the thought of the tragedies and horrors before them keeps me from sleeping. And all the young people. How dreadful for them to face the future!
How do I deal with such a bleak future? I limit the time I watch and read news. I do the things I can to not make things worse -- recycle, donate time and money to the causes that seem helpful, etc. I nurture my favorite relationships. I knit. I listen to music. Sometimes I use gummies to take the edge off.
But mostly I've come to accept that all of this will come to an end, no matter what I do or don't do. In the grand scope of time and the universe, I am nothing. "They" don't even know I exist, and if they did, they wouldn't even care. My existence is more or less just up to me. And so, I'll do the best I can to do what's right and to enjoy what I can. And when I think about it, there is really a lot to enjoy. A lot. And I'm very grateful for it. And gratitude is comforting.
That's how I make it through each day.
It's doable.
Take heart.
I was in Portland this weekend and saw your book in the best seller display at Powell's.
Yes, these cure scary times. I feel sometimes that neurodivergent people carry Cassandra's curse. We can see the future, but no one believes us.