Every human being is thrown into a world they did not choose, forced to accept a reality program in order to survive, and left dealing with the consequences
In critical care you meet people at their rawest, and it’s tempting to shrink them into a label: noncompliant, difficult, dramatic, stoic.
But wha you’re naming here: most of us are running a “reality program” we didn’t write. We arrived as soft, innocent bodies and started borrowing beliefs before we had language, before we had anything resembling consent.
That’s important to know so you can slow down and seek out that person’s fear under the behavior. Less judgment. More curiosity. More mercy.
I am dealing with this in my own life right now trying to guide my mom through late stage cancer decisions regarding her lungs. It is spooky to me that you were the first to read and comment. Thanks for being here and sharing.
As a former critical care nurse, I second Kamran’s perspective. Wishing your family strength and healing.
This essay reminded me of something Joe Rogan once described about becoming a parent—love him or hate him, he does interview interesting people. He said that once you have a child, you suddenly see every adult around you as someone who was once a helpless baby. Parenthood has had that same transformative effect on me. It’s unlocked a deep awe, softness and kindness. Existential empathy perhaps. Beautiful essay.
One small thought you might explore further: if existential empathy is “recognizing another as oneself,” it also implies recognizing your past self as another. That seems crucial for growth. You can’t debug code you only know you don’t like.
Overall, this feels like an invitation to slow down our moral reflexes and widen the frame. Not to say “everything is fine,” but to say “everyone started from fragility.” That’s a solid grounding to start from.
Thank you for this context. You may be familiar with Pema Chodron's exercise "Just like me/Same as me." It serves as a practical, immediate access to what you are calling existential empathy. Also, love the term. I reflect on what I call existential maturity - enlivened by the knowledge of mortality, not to be feared, but embraced.
In critical care you meet people at their rawest, and it’s tempting to shrink them into a label: noncompliant, difficult, dramatic, stoic.
But wha you’re naming here: most of us are running a “reality program” we didn’t write. We arrived as soft, innocent bodies and started borrowing beliefs before we had language, before we had anything resembling consent.
That’s important to know so you can slow down and seek out that person’s fear under the behavior. Less judgment. More curiosity. More mercy.
Kamran,
I am dealing with this in my own life right now trying to guide my mom through late stage cancer decisions regarding her lungs. It is spooky to me that you were the first to read and comment. Thanks for being here and sharing.
The title of your essay pulled me in for sure. Strength and courage to her and to you and your family. 🙏
As a former critical care nurse, I second Kamran’s perspective. Wishing your family strength and healing.
This essay reminded me of something Joe Rogan once described about becoming a parent—love him or hate him, he does interview interesting people. He said that once you have a child, you suddenly see every adult around you as someone who was once a helpless baby. Parenthood has had that same transformative effect on me. It’s unlocked a deep awe, softness and kindness. Existential empathy perhaps. Beautiful essay.
One small thought you might explore further: if existential empathy is “recognizing another as oneself,” it also implies recognizing your past self as another. That seems crucial for growth. You can’t debug code you only know you don’t like.
Overall, this feels like an invitation to slow down our moral reflexes and widen the frame. Not to say “everything is fine,” but to say “everyone started from fragility.” That’s a solid grounding to start from.
Thank you for this context. You may be familiar with Pema Chodron's exercise "Just like me/Same as me." It serves as a practical, immediate access to what you are calling existential empathy. Also, love the term. I reflect on what I call existential maturity - enlivened by the knowledge of mortality, not to be feared, but embraced.