I think I noticed something about people. As infants, we think we are the center of the universe. When do we learn that we are distinct from other people or other creatures? I’m not sure. But, at first, when we see ourselves as distinct, we typically initially judge ourselves to be more important than everyone else and everything else. At least, I believe that was my initial view when I was a young child. Are there people who some degree of neglect or abuse convinces they are not the most important thing in the universe? I don’t know.
In my case, my parents gave me plenty of attention, reinforcing my initial belief that I was the most important thing. For people like me in this regard, some may continue to believe, for the rest of their lives, that the universe revolves around them. That is a subconscious belief, I think, impervious to rational, conscious learning about physics, biology, society, politics, workplaces, schools, families, morality, and God.
Others may eventually experience a lesson, or series of lessons, that humbles them, making them finally question their belief that they are the center of the universe. For some, maybe they experience that in military boot camp, addiction recovery, or sudden and catastrophic loss of financial or emotional support. For me, I experienced it through destroying my marriage, almost losing it, and knowing that it was all my own fault.
Now when I look at people at work or in the grocery store, I am constantly reminded that if I die or move away, if I am happy or sad, if I succeed or fail, their lives will go on, largely unaffected. If there are people stronger or weaker than me, smarter or stupider, more or less attractive, more or less experienced, bigger or smaller, better or worse at giving sexual arousal or sexual pleasure, who cares? They’ll get a new co-worker or see another stranger in the grocery store. One hundred years from now, a few people will infrequently recall that I existed. A million years from now, if there are any people here, they will likely not think often about my society. And, there will come a time when my species and my planet will cease to exist.
In that context, what should some stranger, neighbor, colleague, or even my spouse have to do to ensure that I am happy and that I do not mourn some real or imagined injustice? Nothing. Not a damned thing. The only person who really has to worry about my happiness and my sense of justice is me. And, I can even choose not to worry about those things. I don’t have to be happy. Life doesn’t have to treat me fairly. I can choose what I want to do, think, and even feel, and just get on with it. I’m not the center of the universe. That frees me from worrying about what people think of me. It also frees them, unless they choose otherwise, from thinking about me.