A point is 1 dimension.

A line, a collection of points, is 2 dimensions.

An atom, a collection of wavy lines, is 3 dimensions.

Time, somehow linked to a photon of light traveling through space, bouncing off atoms one unit of time at a time, is 4 dimensions.

A conscious mind, which collects light and atoms and gives them meaning, is 5 dimensions.

In a sense we are each collections of space and time, unique universes unto ourselves.

I’m not even high. This is what my brain comes up with when I go running after skipping it for a while.

And as I ran I saw each other person as particles of alternate universes bouncing along our separate paths.

The 6th dimension collects us.

But how do we let go of such a self-reinforced worldview?  As long as we rely on others to take care of ourselves, we continue to need others to take care of ourselves.  Hence the rocky adjustment period of college, give or take a decade or so depending on your personal circumstances.

The circumstances of the shift in worldview, however, have consequences of their own.  They may leave you feeling burned–distrustful of ever again placing any dependence on anyone.  Or, it may merely be a symbolic change that hides the fact that you’re still dependent on the care of others.

It might also leave certain areas of life woefully vulnerable.  We may be independent in spirit, but be terrible at managing our own money.  Or we may not have what it takes to keep a living space livable.  Or it might leave some social skills highly unrefined.  And we have two options: improve those skills, or continue to adjust our worldview to account for our weaknesses.  Maybe we don’t feel like learning how to keep a clean living space, and instead learn to take pride in it.  Or maybe we haven’t learned how to be in a relationship, and decide that we’re jaded and cynical about the state of coupling.

Being in charge of ourselves leaves us with a huge responsibility to come up with strategies to either fix, or cover up, weak spots.

It’s even easier to see when you think about this in others.  For example, our parents, teachers, and bosses.  The default authority figures.  They have the same challenges, after all.  And they excel at their “being-in-chargedness” to the extent that they are able to manage their weak spots without trying to cover them up or justify them with worldview shifts.

As soon as we can see these faults in others, we must turn on ourselves and examine how we ourselves are managing our weaknesses.  How are we doing at being in charge of ourselves?  How are we doing at being in charge of others (to the extent that we’re authority figures of our own right).

I think a lot of grief in social situations can be examined in this context.

• Is someone in charge of something that they don’t want to be in charge of?
• Is someone not in charge of something that they want to be in charge of?
• Is there confusion about who is in charge of something?
• Are you and others managing the weak spots of their in charge areas with competence?
• Is someone feeling under-appreciated for the effort required to be in charge of something?

Somehow, in our brains, we know exactly how much good will we have towards any number of things.  Our wife, our baby, our job, people who walk slow, rain, people who are always late, people who drive you to the airport, people who hang out with you with no notice, our parents, our computer, AT&T, etc.

It would be interesting to investigate just how we are able to have completely different amounts of good will towards all of these things without it seeming contradictory to ourselves.  How is it possible to have so little good will for a long line at the post office while having so much good will for the person who saves our spot for us while we run to get a coffee?  It goes deep into our old brains’ sense of fairness, justice, manners, and what’s right and wrong.  An early feature of our cerebral cortex, most likely.

Coming soon:
2010: Son is born

Would be interesting to dig deeper into these 30ish events to see how they relate to one another:

• Which ones were intentional, versus accidental?
• Which ones had high immediate impact, which had high long-term impact?
• Which one had intended consequences versus unintended consequences?
• Which things am I proud of, which am I ashamed of?

Another thing to consider, as I am currently 33 years old, how many more things will be on this list?  I started this list in 2005 (it was the bio on an old Typepad account), and only just now updated it to include the last 7 things.  Will the list continue to include about 1 item per year?  Will I add things to the past that I don’t currently know are high-impact events?  Will I remove things?

Does it do any good to reduce life life this?

What’s difficult is taking a good idea and a good execution, and running with it.

In this way, someone with two all consuming passions is less fortunate than someone with one all consuming passion.

It’s easier to run with something when you’re only trying to get to one place.

Generally speaking, if you wake up one day and aren’t sure what to do with your time, do something small that helps someone else. As a nice side benefit, you’ll probably feel better as well.

via The Art of Non-Conformity » Annual Review: 2009 Life Lessons.

I think this is true. When at a loss for something to do, think about the people in your life and try to think of something nice that you can do for one of them. And then don’t mention anything about doing it.

It’ll all backfire if you expect credit or congratulations or even attention for the favor. For favors to work as self-medication, they have to be rewards in themselves, private to yourself, and with no residual expectation of pay-back.

Is that possible?

We should all ask our friends and family if there are any favors we can do for them. It’s a win-win.

The same person might have different specializations in different social circles. In one group, a person might be the comforting one while in other they might be the distressed one.

I’m interested in this for a weird reason. I’m particularly interested in how some people specialize as being good or strong or stable. They are the ones that people can expect to more often than not keep it together during a problem, be fair during disputes, take care of others when they’re in distress, etc.

The side effect of social specialization is that when one person specializes in the direction of a strength, it sometimes becomes a cue that others can be less strong, more dependent, etc. And this is a disincentive for the strong person to continue playing that role, as it in some ways makes the other characters less strong. Are they being taken for granted? And then who will be strong for them when they need it? Parents, I’m guessing, might run into this conflict when trying to decide how protective they want to be of their children… does one shield them from all turmoil at the risk of sheltering them too much and leaving them unprepared for the eventual arrival of “real life”?

Does the person who always picks up the tab disincentivize the others to make more money? Does the person who is patient disincentivize the others from having better behavior? Does the person who always cleans disincentivize the others from picking up after themselves?

In a way, social specialization seems inevitable, and in many ways productive to a social group.  We would never have evolved into multicellular creatures unless some cells decided to specialize and take over functions from other cells.  Similarly, society has to specialize in order to grow and evolve.  We can’t all grow our own food and improve technology and raise children and build roads and govern the states and transport mail in equal amounts.

Of course, the rational answer is that we should balance specialization with giving others an opportunity to grow in their own ways. Balance strength with encouragement to grow. But at the core of the question is an anticipation of what society might be able to evolve into if it were to go whole hog into the idea of social specialization.  How many cells got left out of the first multi-cellular animals?  How many species didn’t provide something of value to the whole and therefore disappeared into the world of independent single cell outcasts?

This train of thought is creeping me out.