Shedding Dead Skin
The Epistemology of Transformation
We all know that one friend who’s still the same guy from high school. He tells the same stories, wears the same clothes, and never left your hometown. He never changed. He’s the same guy.
You never have to worry about that guy. You know what he’s doing next week. You know what he’ll be doing in 6 months.
But you’ve wondered if there’s more to that guy.
“Who could he be if he really tried? Is there more underneath the surface? ”
He asks himself the same thing.
Sometimes while he’s getting ready for work, he fantasizes about a better version of himself: a gorgeous girlfriend, financial freedom, and a stunning home. He’s on top of the world.
Then something pulses beneath his skin — uncomfortable and insistent. He quickly shrugs it off.
“It’s too late.” He compares himself to the homeless. “At least I have a roof over my head.” Worrying he might miss the train, he tells himself, “some people have nothing.” He leaves for work and convinces himself that his life is fine.
Which it is.
He asks himself a petrifying question. The distance between who he is and who he could be feels impossibly vast. What it would take to get there would change everything. People would say “he’s changed.” He’d no longer be the same guy from high school.
You can’t shed dead skin if there isn’t skin to be shed.
For the rest of this post, I’ll be speaking from experience.
