The patterns of our predecessors stay with us. We consciously and unconsciously pass them on to the next generation, even though the “next generation” invariably claims both freedom from imitation of and radical differences from its ancestry. Within cohesive social units, such as parishes, families, and towns, the patterns of the past underlie and carry the mores du jour each “next generation” establishes. The conveyor belt of individual character also emerges from the deep mine of culture. Finding a new mineral in that mine is chancy at best. Most proclaimed differences between members of two generations are, after some years of limited value, not the gemstones they appear to be.

Bound on a deep level to the patterns long established by a culture, individuals are not as singular as they sometimes think they are. So, how does one discover in an ordered world what is truly individual? The answer lies in Chaos. With no form and no set pattern, Chaos provides the only opportunity for one to achieve individuality.

Individuality emerges from ordering Chaos. Individuals create their individuality by virtue of the way they handle Chaos. Give me Chaos, and you give me the potential to become a god, to create a world that is peculiar to me. So, the next time your life seems to be a chaotic mine roof collapse that cuts off connections to your past and the order imposed by others, seize the moment to create a new world. Undergo your personal apotheosis. 

Once (You can say as many times as you want, or you can give a precise date) a (There could be as many as you want, so “a” could be changed to “several,” “many,” or a specific number like 22,531) _________ (Place type of organism here) decided to _________(Name the activity). The _________(Circumstance goes here, such as, but I’m only giving examples, “day,” “particular rotational period of the planet,” “weather,” or “atmospheric condition”) was perfect for _________ (Activity), and the event was a success. The ___________ (“participant,” “participants”) enjoyed the _________(Activity).

The End. (I hope no one was offended by this)

Imagine you are Albert Einstein. You have become the quintessential example of a scientist. You don’t do physical experiments with test tubes and apparatus, but you do “thought experiments.” These thought experiments have led you to rewrite the physics of Isaac Newton in your special and general relativity theories. You have even laid the groundwork for quantum mechanics. You are a Nobel Laureate and a Princeton professor with great fame and public adoration. The rich and powerful want to be associated with you. Politicians listen to you. Could there be a happier circumstance for someone?

But you haven’t had the smoothest experience in social matters. You and your first wife split. One of your children hasn’t had good mental health. You helped people discover the secrets that led to the building of the atomic bomb, but you realized afterward what that weapon would mean for future humanity. Yes, you have had some disappointment. In addition, you never succeeded in your quest to find a unifying theory that ties together the four fundamental forces of the universe and that also incorporates quantum effects. Plus, even though you opened the door to quantum mechanics, you can’t reconcile yourself to some of its fundamental tenets. Yes, you have had some disappointment.

Everyone encounters disappointment. Some allow themselves to turn disappointment into depression, addiction, and even despair. Others recognize that disappointment is part of living and that every disappointment lies side-by-side with both little and big accomplishments. Einstein couldn’t land a job after he finished his studies and had to take a position as a patent inspector in Bern. While he was at that job and within a single year, he wrote four articles that changed the world of physics and altered the future. Wallowing in the mire of his disappointments wasn’t his way.

You might argue, “Yeah, but the guy was a genius.” Your suggestion is that Einstein could handle his disappointment because of his mental adroitness. In reality, many people handle their disappointment not through genius and the adulation of others, but rather through some faith in self and some practical knowledge that “it ain’t over till it’s over.” Life offers each of us both disappointment and success. We choose whether or not to focus on one rather than on the other.

Like Einstein in his attempt to find a Grand Unified Theory, you might work on your goals without completing them to your satisfaction. So? Einstein worked on his “problem” even while lying on his deathbed. That’s an example of not giving in to disappointment. Disappointments fade to relative insignificance when we devote ourselves to reaching our goals.

Sometimes you are faced with a problem that is tough to solve. You can attempt a solution from a different perspective, but how do you get to that different perspective? What if getting that different perspective requires the cooperation of others? Getting people to act on something you think is important and that requires immediate action can be difficult. Here’s how the old joke goes:

While cleaning the attic, Betty and John found an old stub for some shoes they left at the repair shop 10 years ago. They thought it would be interesting to see if the shoes were still at the shop. So they went to the shop and handed the stub to the repairman who took it and looked in the back room. After about five minutes, he came out and said, "They'll be ready on Wednesday.”

Don’t fault people if they do not share your urgency for action. Sometimes you have to reorder your tactics to find solutions.  

You have walked or driven past stores and restaurants with the familiar sign “Help Wanted.” These are passive pleas that are randomly effective only when someone, no doubt for personal economic reasons, wants “to help.” The strategy might work, but it depends on chance and the personal urgency of another. Big companies actively recruit help; they don’t sit on their hands after leaving a sign out front.

Passively waiting for that chance passerby to commit to helping isn’t the best tactic for someone with emotional needs. Individuals that need emotional help should follow the lead of big companies. Have a problem? Actively recruit. Interview until you find someone who shares your sense of urgency.  

That shy member of the bowling team might also be an accomplished pianist. The sales rep in Toledo might be an authoress of unpublished epic poems. The investor might be an inventor. In 1905, the junior patent office employee in Bern was Albert Einstein. Let me put it in verse for you.

If I Were King One Day

If I were king one day, I would


Not do the things you think I should.

I would not stop to give each one


A parcel here, a mansion there,


Or gold that glistens like our sun.

Nor would I give with regal flair


A day for dawdling, idle fun.


My day as king would make no one

A loving man or one with hate,


Nor would I open prison’s gate.

Instead my day as king would go

With heat, or cold, or rain, or snow,

As roughly as the day before


With neither less nor any more


Of what each had within his store.

I would not change a thing, but link


The thoughts of all to what all think.

Some seven billion then could weigh

What each one does and thinks one day.

Some of us are very neat people. Some of us are messy. Keeping a place neat is a job, whereas making one messy is not. The Meadowcroft Rock Shelter in western Pennsylvania and other ancient sites of habitation seem to indicate that we have long preferred messiness to neatness. As a species we must not like a tidy place. That is good news for archaeologists because ancient messiness provides the artifacts of life long gone. The junk of the past is a clue to lifestyle.

Fast forward. You are the archaeologist who digs up your dwelling. What do you find? Things lined up in rows and stacked neatly? A bit of a mess? An example of entropy? The reality is that even ancient humans acquired more than they needed. “Hey! Look at this thing I found on the ground. I think I’ll put it in the back of the cave.” And there the thing sits, and sits, and sits, possibly for tens of millennia. And it gets buried under more stuff. That’s the reason that archaeologists dig, and dig, and dig.

Now imagine you practice your archaeology ten millennia from now. You come across a landfill (otherwise known as a garbage dump), maybe the one in Manila, where heavy rains caused a collapse of the large dump that subsequently burst into flames and killed 33 people. Do we really need all this stuff? Think about it: The dump in Manila was so large that its collapse crushed a small peripheral shantytown and killed 33.

So, if your place called Earth is a mess, you might ask who is to blame. And while you set about finding a scapegoat, you might look around at the stuff in your personal place. Do you really need all this stuff? 

In the early nineteenth century King Kamehameha united the Hawaiian Islands. Imagine. It was not a time of drones or powered warships. Outriggers. No manufacturing base to make guns. No. King Kamehameha bargained for weapons with those who would find shelter and trade in his harbor. He was both smart and patient. Kauai capitulated without a struggle just from the thought of war with the great king.

So, in 1819 with the islands unified under his rule, Kamehameha was a king in control of Hawaiians’ destiny. And then a “red tide,” you know, a bloom of dinoflagellates like the toxic Karenia brevis, floated into Honolulu harbor. Bad sign. Omen, in fact. Kamehameha died within two days. Before he died, however, he was able to utter, “Endless is the good I leave you to enjoy.”

We will all face a “red tide” some day, that is, some event that precedes our demise. For some the event will occur moments before and will be a cause of death, as in a wreck. For others, the event will last hours, days, weeks, or months, as in a lingering cancer. Maybe we should all think of an approaching “red tide” as a constant in life. After all, death is inevitable.

With that end in mind, wouldn’t it be great if we could say to those whose destiny we have influenced, even now in the bloom of our own lives, “Endless is the good I leave you to enjoy.”  

If you haven’t been there, you have seen videos of life on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, particularly as it occurs on Fat Tuesday. Tourists and locals crowd the famous street in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The crowd is a jumble of people from many places and of many “persuasions.”

What happens when many people of different persuasions congregate? On Bourbon Street, the gathering is quite entertaining. It is also quiet befuddling. What motivates a person to dress up as a motorized Transformer? What is it that motivates someone to lie pressed against a wall on the inside edge of a busy sidewalk? And what is it that makes a person hand out baubles for tips? Obviously, there’s a different story for each human, and each might find the story of the curious tourist to be a curiosity in itself.

We constantly befuddle one another, don’t we? Just when we think we have someone figured out, the person does the unexpected. So, note the surprise when parents and friends comment on the actions of someone who seemed “normal” (if, in fact, there is such a condition as “normal”) who suddenly goes into a restaurant or theater and shoots people. “He seemed like a nice guy. He even helped Mrs. Glutch carry in her groceries. I never saw this coming.”

Of course, for each of us there is a “normal,” a condition to which we are accustomed. Maybe, however, we should examine our individual “normals” to see whether or not they don’t hide a different “us.” Maybe, our “normals” are a bit unexpected when others view them. Maybe, just maybe, we are the Transformer on Bourbon Street when others view us.

You experience anxiety. You’re not alone. Being anxious is a common experience. Scenario: You are a passenger in a car, and another car comes within one millimeter of hitting you. Close call, but, fortunately, no accident. Yet, your heart rate increases, you breathe differently after the incident than you did before it, and you voice your concern to the driver, “He almost hit us! He almost hit us! Oh!”

The driver, oblivious to the feeling of panic that has rushed through you, says, “Relax. Nothing happened.”

“Not good enough,” you think on some underlying level of self-communication. “We were almost in an accident,” you say to the driver. “Pay attention to your driving.”

Those words start the argument.

“I was paying attention. That guy almost hit us.”

Et, as they say, cetera: The conversation continues, exacerbating your feeling of anxiety and throwing bad feelings toward the driver into the mix. The driver becomes defensive.

But no accident occurred. That’s the reality. If the car missed you by a millimeter, it was the same as if the car missed you by infinity. The accident did not happen. Your car and the other car occupied two different places at the moment the incident occurred. You were not in the place of an accident. There was no difference between one millimeter and infinity when nothing occurred. Missing the collision is missing the collision. The distance is irrelevant. You are safe.

Think of what Mark Twain said. “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.” Will you spend your life being anxious over “many troubles” that “never happened”?