“Being Human” — The Unreal Ideal

I have finally arrived at the final piece in this series. As I stated at the beginning of this process, these aren’t in order — there is no hierarchy to reductive thinking or irrational thought. Every process I’ve discussed is very human, and I posit that the general reader can summon a memory of their own reductive thinking along any of these lines with ease. I’ve kept this particular idea for last because it’s by far the most difficult for me to cope with; I’ve literally been procrastinating on it by talking about other things.

I’m human. UB2.

Dear August,

What is the unreal ideal?

The unreal ideal is exactly that; it’s paradise in the theoretical. I think it’s most recognizable as an active form of escapism, and I think it’s most easily recognized in the context of a “sore loser.” Consider the idea of “well, if I had played this moment of the game differently, I would. have squarely beaten you.” Immediately, there’s a willing engagement of the hypothetical and an explicit desire to indulge in that fantasy. It’s not just a consideration of what could have been done differently, it’s an assumption that a single changed action would result in a decidedly better present.

The thought process here is actually rather impressive, even though it may seem rather simple or childish. At the very least, it speaks to human imagination — when I engage the unreal ideal I’m putting forth a reality that does not exist. More though, the practical idea at the core of this process involves our ability to grasp time as a linear dimension, and consider a transformation across the fifth dimension (between two different timelines). Maybe I’m just patting myself on the back, but if you’ve ever engaged the unreal ideal as I have, congratulations you’re doing “advanced theoretical physics” levels of mental acrobatics.

Donnie Darko visually displays the fourth dimension as a connective tube structure that a 3D object (Donnie) follows through time. Changing some action, straying from his time-tube, inevitably puts him on a different path. The distance between one time-tube and another time-tube is defined in the fifth dimension.

But then, where’s the disconnect?

The obvious “irrational” component in the unreal ideal is that it exactly engages the hypothetical. It speaks beyond the current situation, seemingly out of suffering, and does so in denial of the current circumstances. I don’t think of that so much as the irrational piece though, because to me that actually highlights the motivation for the process rather than the “logical misstep” that occurs. Consider the basic chain of events.

1. History occurs, up to a point.
2. The individual decides the present is not ideal.
3. The individual focuses on some portion of the current that could be different.
4. The individual decides a moment in history that lead to present circumstances.
5. The individual establishes how changing that previous moment would result in the desire present.

Again, it feels impressive, but listing out the steps involved really shows how grand a process it is. Furthermore, I can see three or four distinct moments where the individual employs assumptions, reductive thinking, or other “irrational behavior” to even get to the unreal ideal. I’ll use myself, honestly out of laziness.

An act of political defiance and also a hallmark “sore loser”.

I decide the present is not ideal.

It’s hard to deign that there’s an active component here, and that might mean that this step can be further deconstructed. I have to decide the ideality of “now” based on my narrative, which means I’m relying on myself as a narrator of the events that have happened or are currently unfolding. Flatly and mindfully, I am not a reliable narrator of the past or present. That’s not to say I’m flawed in that way; rather, it’s exactly that I am human and am necessarily limited in my ability to see the whole story, interpret the facts without bias, and report them with exact accuracy. I don’t think there’s an active logical mishap here, but there is room to admit humanity and imperfection. When I decide that the current is not ideal, I’m probably at least a little silly to do so.

The individual focuses on some portion of the current that could be different.

This is where active reductive thinking really kicks in. Whichever path I took from “then” to “now”, my attention is on only a portion of the present. Chances are — if I’ve deemed the present non-ideal — that the flaws are consolidated in the portion of the present I’m actively giving focus. Usually, I’m allowing my feelings to dictate my focus, or demanding that some portion of the current is bigger than it is realistically. To me, this looks like a confluence of catastrophic thinking, emotional reasoning, and filtering. Regardless of the exact mixture, I’m in denial of the full picture of the present.

The individual decides a moment in history that lead to present circumstances.

This step is where the mental gymnastic begin to impress even me. I’m already focused on a narrow portion of reality and then I reach back into my narrow slice of the whole story and dig for a single piece that could be changed. There’s nuance here, because I can imagine at least two ways this can go. In the first, I reach back into the story for a moment where I could have acted differently.

“If only I’d done this instead of that.”

Having definitely said those words in my lifetime, I can pretty confidently claim that I do this in part to proclaim my autonomy and control over a largely uncontrollable universe. “I am small, hear me roar.” The other possibility that immediately comes to mind is that I could reach back into history for a moment where I specifically felt I had no control.

“I am small. Hear me roar.”

“If only that hadn’t happened.”

This could evoke a mindset of “I am not responsible for these circumstances, I am merely victim to the suffering of the world.” I think more often though, this speak to a stance of “I was denied my power, therefore things are bad,” much like the notion of “well if I’d been in charge things would be great.” For me, this mentality makes more sense because it speaks to the ego and our demand for being known, and impactful.

In either case, by deciding upon a single moment, we’re definitely using catastrophic thinking, and very likely personalization as a means of reducing the inherently complex past to a chain of linear events for which we could or even should be responsible.

The individual establishes how changing that previous moment would result in the desire present.

To stick the landing, I end up telling an impressive story to ourselves and anyone who might listen. I connect a moment in the past, to a change that could or should have occurred and then posit that it would directly cause a better future (at least in my terms). This is a sort of wildly syllogistic process, where A has to lead to B which obviously leads to C. There’s no space for intervention between steps, and there’s no real cession to the autonomy of others nor the wild random nature of the universe. Less mathematically, this is a version of “correlation is not causation,” except we are deciding causation, AND the dependent and independent variables. It’s very reductive in several ways, but is most reminiscent of catastrophic thinking, filtering, and fortune telling.

Really, who even knows what is and isn’t funny?

Okay, but why even bother engaging the unreal ideal?

I can imagine a few reasons someone (namely me) might indulge the unreal ideal. The comparison between the present experience and some hypothetical ideal is motivated by the dissonance between the two, and the enforced by the expectation of the latter. When I lose, I frantically seek to “right the wrong” by projecting myself onto a present that doesn’t exist; specifically, I craft a story in which I am the winner because history played out differently. I can soothe my suffering with a dalliance into the unreal.

This process gives me cause for concern though, because often what I find in myself is that by indulging in the fantastical ideal, I highlight and even exacerbate the dissonance between there and “here and now”. In my attempt to story-tell my way out of my feelings, I’ve actually affirmed the portion of my suffering that’s specifically within my control and in doing so doubled down on my feelings. In this way, the unreal ideal feeds into an emotional spiral, which is most reminiscent of filtering and emotional reasoning.

I can imagine another reason to construct this ideal, though; frankly, the former is much less common for me personally though I recognize it well within my potential. More often, I find that I engage the unreal idea to decouple myself from reality. I do this in the name of academics and logic — “I don’t understand why anyone would murder someone for their skin color, everyone is human. Periodt.”

Maybe if I talk about it more, it’ll just be here.

Without judgment, I’m creating a fantasy in which I’m capable of ignoring the work that needs to be done given the ACTUAL REALITY of the situation. Whether or not I’m correct about the ideal state of affairs, the current state of affairs IS dissonant to my beliefs and by giving energy freely to the ideal, I’m not giving energy toward a solution.

Talking about the result is not the same as solving the problem.

In kindness, I think there’s some healthy component to this behavior. While it’s not entirely mindful of the present, I do believe that by at least outlining the ideal I can more strategically allocate my energy in moving toward it. That said, when I pine and muse endlessly on the nuance of the ideal, I’m doing so at the cost of the present. This is it’s own fascinating behavior; why am I diverting my energy toward the hypothetical?

• It’s often easier to pretend and imagine than it is to take action. Reality has rules and physical boundaries while the ideal does not.
• There’s less risk and liability in the ideal than there is in the actionable present. By engaging in the present, I’m choosing to put myself and perhaps others at risk.
• Acting, and even deciding to act or not, requires energy that I don’t always have. Imagining the ideal is a way for me to feel moralistic and “good” without actually doing anything.

In any case, the fact remains that by indulging the unreal ideal I am distracting myself from the present. And I only have autonomy in the present.

Sure, yes. What can I do about it?

Well, thankfully since there are SO MANY moments of reductive thinking involved in this process, there are a lot of different ways we can practice giving space to the present and more mindfully addressing our suffering.

I can get paralyzed by an abundance of options and yet unrealized goals, not realizing that ANY direction is forward.

Looking for commonalities in the steps of the process, I can imagine key themes that occur throughout.

• I am focused on my experience as a result of my control, or lack thereof, for previous events.
• I’m interested in denying my experience because it’s active and requires energy that I may or may not have.
• I feel overwhelmed by a persistent narrative of victimhood, or a lack of autonomy.

In any case, it seems like I would benefit in the short term by grounding myself in the present and centering myself on reality aside from the current circumstances. I might try bringing my attention to my breathing or heartbeat, or the music I’m listening to, in an attempt to direct my focus away from the circumstances and the past onto an actively unfolding present.

It also seems like I can mindfully practice some acceptance of the past as immutable, and the present as actionable. There’s kindness I can claim for myself in that very few moments in history are entirely decisive or final. That’s to say, even if the action I take in the present is exactly inaction, by doing so intentionally I’m engaging the present rather than indulging the past or a hypothetical time with which I cannot interact.

Lastly since my persistent narrative is overwhelming, I can instead appreciate moments and feelings that are not exactly in focus. The notion of a persistent narrative of victimhood or control resonates strongly with the ideas behind filtering. To regain some composure against filtering, I have to practice some acceptance that I’m not capable of processing everything at once, but that I have some control over what I attend to. If I feel like a loser because I’ve lost another game, I have the choice to redirect my attention to literally anything else in order to begin shifting my narrative.

• Breathe. Notice breathing and my being.
• Accept that the past is “fact” and the present is where I can act.
• Refocus myself on my action or inaction and shift my narrative.

It’s practice. It’s work. There are reasons I engage the unreal ideal. It’s not irrational, but it’s also not particularly useful.

And that’s what I want most of the time. Something useful.

Sincerely Not Real,

August