Puppeteer

February 24th

I am a puppet. And, of course, there is a puppeteer that pulls my strings. It goes by a lot of names — mind, brain, wits, intellect, acumen — whatever. We have a love/hate relationship; I mean — as far as it lets me hate it. That puppeteer has an enormous advantage over me. Advantage of having hundreds of thousands of generations of evolution, crossing and mixing genes to get to this point, to be finally stuck in that particular vessel that is my body. To be lucky to be in that specimen that is me.

I wanted to write “perfect specimen” but my puppeteer advised me not to, it would be too obvious. So I didn’t. But instead, I wrote a funny sentence belittling what I wanted to write in the first place. Or maybe it was its goal all along?

That last sentence was a whisper because my puppeteer is always ready to take me on. It has the experience of those countless generations to adjust itself to the surroundings and background in which it/me finds itself. To adjust to what it/me finds growing up — in a family, school, friends, nation, religion — whatever. I really stand no chance. And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate its work. The way it runs my heart, the fact that it controls my breathing, so I don’t have to remember to take each breath. The way it adjusts my digestive system to turn what I eat into fuel (for itself mostly, the greedy bastard), the way it lets me know when I am tired and need to rest or sleep.

And then it gives me nightmares and anxiety. It tells me to be timid, to be undecided, to be willing to take care of others before taking care of myself. It tells me not to confront my fears or make amends. It tells me to have a fantasy high-level opinion of myself one minute, and then it brings me down with a realization that I don’t mean much. It tells me to be arrogant at the precisely wrong moments. Then it tells me to feel sorry for myself. But mostly it tells me NOT to make any changes. I mean — the current circumstances are good. If not good, then well-known and acceptable. Something new could be a hundred times worse. And what is worse — it would require hard work. And my puppeteer doesn’t want to learn new tricks. And it doesn’t care about my happiness. As long as I am alive — that is all it needs.

But I do have a secret weapon. My consciousness. Only recently did I realize that consciousness is not something that comes from birth with an aware mind and live body. Consciousness requires a lot more than that. I am also aware that it is not always necessary for living. There are so many examples of people going through their lives with not so much as one conscious thought. It can be a burden as well. I can make you feel too much. Or nothing at all. Or make you aware of your failings. And make you aware that you can correct those failings through hard work. It can tell you who you really are, and that could be really unpleasant.

There is no way of getting rid of the puppeteer. But with conscious effort, it is possible to tame it and learn to predict which string it will pull given a specific situation. And react to it — consciously, not innately.

Maybe it will be even possible to see each other as partners one day, not just as master and servant?