My Head is a Big Old Dummy

I was at a party when a yoga instructor told me I was resistant to yoga because I lived in my head and not in my body. This was moments after she nearly laughed aloud when she realized that not only could I not touch my toes without bending my knees, but I was a few feet from it. She went on to inform me that the division between mind and body is gendered. According to her, men tend to live more in their heads and women more in their bodies. Furthermore, because I lived in my head, I was less likely to acknowledge the validity of my feelings and follow my heart.

   

She struck a chord and hit a nerve with her remarks. She struck a chord because I have long thought that our giant human brains, and all of the rational powers contained within, aren’t nearly as impressive as we’ve made them out to be, at least not in the context of modern societies. I sometimes wonder if our brains are oversized vestiges from a time long ago when we needed buckets of wit to compensate for our puny bodies in order to hunt mastodons and avoid being gobbled up by saber-tooth cats. Now that modern, industrial societies help us meet most of our basic needs, our brains are free to run wild, fretting about bills, contemplating our impending death, or wondering whether or not people think we're cool or attractive.

On the other hand, she hit a nerve, not because her subtext was that men are foolish because they are out of touch with their feelings. I accept that as a well-established fact. Here’s why she hit a nerve. I'm the poster child for rationality. I rationalize everything to death. I’m also able to think about things from multiple perspectives and genuinely find merit in several, sometimes starkly different alternatives. Some might argue that this is strength. However, as a 34-year old contemplating some major life changes, I argue that it’s the worst, and more likely to lead to inertia than change.

The name of our blog is In Transition, but truthfully, I’m not exactly sure what I’m transitioning to, or if I’m even transitioning for that matter. I will say that I want to be transitioning. I’ve read lots of stories written by people who have made radical life changes and had it work out for the best. I’ve also read stories by people who took leaps of faith and fell to their deaths. However, it’s rarer that I come across accounts by people who are seriously contemplating life changes but don’t know exactly how to go about it. That is a niche I think I can fill nicely.

Let me start with the obvious question. What would I like to be transitioning to? This has always been a tricky one for me, but maybe that’s just because I’ve been relying too much on my head. My heart tells me I should be a homesteader, a farmer, an artisan craftsman, a mountain man, a Left-coaster, or some combination of those things. Those are all real things that I can be, aren’t they? If nothing else, my heart tells me that I should be taken steps to get closer to those things.

Here’s what I do know. Ever since I self-actualized, I’ve known in my heart that I don’t want much to do with the things that many people want much to do with. I’ve never wanted or appreciated formal schooling or academic institutions. I’ve never wanted a standard 9-5 career. I’ve never wanted to have children so I could live vicariously through them. I’ve never wanted religion or faith. I’ve never wanted a house in the suburbs with a manicured lawn. I’ve never wanted a sports team. I’ve never wanted heaps of crap I don’t need. I’ve never wanted my precious, few years to be dominated by tedious obligations, duties, and responsibilities.

Furthermore, I’ve known in my heart that I want to explore and roam. I want to play outside. I want to learn by doing. I want to use my hands. I want to constantly have dirt under my fingernails. I want to teach others about the things I’m passionate about. I want my work to be more directly connected to my subsistence. I want to grow lots of produce, forage for wild foods, and hunt some game. I want to live in or near an expansive forest. I want true freedom- not the nationalistic, propagandistic brand of freedom that is shoved down my throat by the crazies running the country at any given time- but the kind that means I can wake when I’m rested, sleep when I’m tired, and generally do as I please. I want to make things- arts, crafts, breads, kimchi, and maybe even construct a log cabin or two with my own semi-skilled hands.

It’s been fairly easy for me to avoid some of the things I never wanted. For example, it hasn’t been too difficult being a sports-hating, childless agnostic in this society. However, schooling and career were/are far trickier. Despite never really appreciating formal education, I somehow wound up with a Master’s degree. And despite not wanting a standard career, I’m smack-dab in the middle of one- a well-paying, bureaucratic, mind-numbing one at that. I spend the best parts of any given day and the greatest number of hours each week doing things that I don’t want to be doing. So what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. My damn head happened.

I am just now starting to realize how sneaky my head is. Whenever I entertain the idea of doing the things that my heart is screaming for me to do, my head starts telling me why it’s a bad idea. It tells me that anything I feel in my heart is stupid, juvenile, extreme, rash, impulsive, and destined the lead me to penury. It tells me I should stay cautious, leave myself with as many options as possible, stay in my comfort zones, think, think some more, continue thinking, and then re-think just to make sure I’m thinking about thinking the right way.

However, I am starting to understand that my head is a big old dummy. There will always be good reasons not to do the things my heart is telling me to do. In fact, in any given situation, those reasons will probably outweigh the reasons to do those things. Furthermore, straying from socially-sanctioned, “legitimate” ways of living may end very poorly for me. It may lead to utter penury. People may write me off as a mangy hippie, an idealist, or a dreamer. I may have great difficulty in re-entering the workforce if things as a mountain man don’t quite work out. I may be crushed by a log cabin that I build with my own semi-skilled hands. I may regret everything.

How could life as a mountain man not work out for Joseph?

Despite all that, there’s something else I’m beginning to understand. If I don’t make a change, there are things I will definitely regret. I will definitely regret spending my best years sitting in a cubicle staring at a computer screen or in meeting rooms acting like I care about the mundane topic de jour. I will definitely regret spending my best years in a noisy, polluted, overpriced, congested metropolis filled with fashionable urbanites who genuinely find U.S. politics interesting. I will definitely regret spending my best years as a miserable bastard, and I will definitely regret the effect that my misery could have on the people I love.

My proclivities for drama naturally lead me to think about my life and the decisions I make (or fail to make) as an epic battle between my heart and my head. For most of my life, my head has been winning. It has assault rifles and Kevlar vests. My heart has flint arrowheads and buckskin armor. Yet, it should come as no surprise that my heart is under-equipped. I’m a member of a society that values knowledge over wisdom. I’m a member of a society that doesn’t learn from its collective mistakes. I’m a member of a society that watches catastrophe after catastrophe unfold while waiting for better data or looking for a silver bullet techno fix. I’m a member of a society that routinely perpetrates or quietly sanctions unspeakable atrocities against humans and the planet because rational institutions dictate that economic growth is the only noble pursuit.

Any old head can acquire knowledge, but it takes a heart to consider the relevancy of knowledge and attribute meaning and context. It takes a heart to make knowledge personal. It takes a heart to know what is moral, right, or just.

Clearly I'm no sage when it comes to following my heart. My heart journey is just beginning. And while some things in their infancy demand baby steps, I’ve taken enough of those for a lifetime. All that’s left for me to do is take that one giant step out of my head, reach down with knees unbent, and touch my goddamn toes.