I teach personality theory – identity, concepts of the self, individual differences, etc. As if these things we identify in ourselves and others really exist. There are many perspectives on personality: psychoanalytic (freud), humanistic (Maslow), Behaviourist (Skinner), Trait (Goldberg), Type (Jung), Evolutionary (Buss), and Neurological (Fisher), to name a few. They all have merit, and they are not necessarily contradictory. We might form a more holistic picture of the human condition when taken together, but they all miss something. The problem is, I can’t quite put my finger on it. Therefore, I question the existence of a self or personality at all. Just because I believe myself to be, because I convince myself of my own existence by virtue of my thoughts and words…
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And so this raises the question; will I care when I’m gone? If I do not do the work or, indeed, never find it, or do work that I think is worthy of my time and effort and yet comes to nought, will I be remorseful? When I’m lying between the sheets in my final hours, I will likely be empty for not doing it.
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