Entry 2106
On Inversion, seduction and jealousy.
There are so many curses.
The curse of specialization, the curse of too much knowledge, the curse of too little knowledge, the curse of thinking biases, the curse of poor mental models, the curse of too many mental models, the curse of linear thinking, then perhaps the curse of overthinking.
Today, I am reminded of so much—the essence of time, its consequences, what it means to restart your life, taking chances, maximizing one’s potential, endless possibilities, delayed gratification and so on.
Particularly, I am drawn to one of Farnam Street's articles on mental models in making intelligent decisions, one of which is the Inversion model.
He talks about how it is easier to avoid stupidity than to seek brilliance to increase our odds of success.
Instead of asking ‘how can I achieve this?’, it asks ‘what is preventing me from achieving this?’.
Again, I am drawn to a renewed sense of incongruity from the first paragraph of ‘The Art of Seduction’ by Robert Greene which concisely describes the Siren character.
A man is often secretly oppressed by the role he has to play—by always having to be responsible, in control, and rational. The Siren is the ultimate male fantasy figure because she offers a total release from the limitations of his life.
Although the focus is on the seductress, what catches my eye is the role that we have to play all the time and how limiting it can be.
We have to be responsible, to think clearly, to be rational, to be in control and so any form of incongruity—for instance, the way the seductress offers a way out, even if it is for a while—becomes a fantasy.
I know this may seem commonsensical, but it also imperceptibly explains that the power of incongruity takes preeminence every time.
Yes, the siren is a mirage and she is dangerous (Marilyn Monroe is the perfect example in this chapter).
Yet, the fact that she offers the opportunity to lose control over oneself also reveals that this is what man secretly yearns for.
What else am I drawn to? I am drawn to admit my jealousy.
I am ashamed to admit that I’m jealous of some people’s stories.
This is wrong but when someone describes their experience or story in a way that allowed them to stumble on their path suddenly, I feel a pang of jealousy in my chest, sometimes so strong that it makes my stomach hurt a little.
Imagine stumbling on your calling from such an early stage.
Imagine walking on the road and finding someone who changes your life, making the journey ten times easier.
It’s not the same as reading ‘10x is easier than 2x ‘ by Dan Sullivan to map out strategies in an attempt to recover wasted time.
It’s not the same as being tossed around physically and emotionally in a country that is barely fighting for itself, leaving you at a disadvantage unless you fight to death and this fight may even transcend the physical. It’s almost metaphysical.
Jealousy is wrong, I know. Also, Jordan Peterson’s rule of jealousy tries to keep me in check by reminding me strictly that I don’t get to swap only the aspects of people’s lives I admire.
I have to take the whole thing. I can’t just exchange one aspect of their lives, like their evocative stories.
I have to be ready to swap my whole life with theirs and only if I truly desire this, can I permit jealousy. But I don’t.
Somehow I find myself still holding on to my identity, even if it’s by a tiny thread.
There’s still something that reminds me to be grounded in who I am and I have no idea what that is.
What else am I drawn to? Perhaps myself.