We really can’t screw up on a massive scale
It’s on us to give meaning and purpose to our lives.

Humanity's best-kept secret

[ 2 min read ]

I think the fact that people feel disappointed with humanity and lament or withdraw (as some great writers or thinkers did) doesn’t mean we as species failed (and should be ashamed of ourselves and maybe even think of ourselves as unworthy of our position in the animal kingdom), it only means that humanity didn’t live up to its own, exorbitant expectations about themselves, which are unwarranted to begin with, because we inaccurately assumed (because it feels so nice to think that of ourselves) that there is this special role for us as species in the world).

It basically means we believed some bullshit story we ourselves invented, and tell ourselves over and over, about the position and role of human beings in the world. A perfect example of our wishful thinking.

It’s like we invented this story (about human beings being Messiahs with this huge responsibility) so that we can feel special, and also (or maybe mainly for that reason) in order to make brainwashing of each new generation easier (sell them on the same bullshit story), because subconsciously we knew and know that this story (though only a myth and wishful thinking) is the only thing that can (at least temporarily) save us from self-destruction and reduce the amount of pain we can inflict upon each other.

But we didn’t factor in that this story will also come to haunt us and will make our lives so much more difficult, at times unbearable.

Today, after so many years of convincing ourselves that we are special (have this special role in the world, or at least on our planet), we already believe it to be true.

Could we today do without this bullshit story (with so many regulatory civic mechanisms already in place)? Hard to say. There is no 100% guarantee.

So maybe this is our best-kept secret?

If we all out of a sudden (or even gradually) rid ourselves of this erroneous belief that we are so freaking special, would we survive?

Maybe our ability to invent little nice stories (bullshit ourselves) isn’t something we use merely in order to feel good about ourselves, but also something we subconsciously use as our most important weapon against self-destruction (our most important self-defence mechanism)?

None of it however means our story is true. It’s nothing but a myth.