I Am the Yeti…Again.

Writers get wrapped up in their characters, to the extent that the beings we create are sometimes extensions of ourselves. Several years ago, I decided there dwelt within me a Yeti (I contain multitudes, apparently), one who was curious about the humans who lived outside the forest. My yeti decided to find one of said humans and ask them all about us. The book was great fun to write (I even made it rhyme), and it played into one of my very favourite questions in philosophy: What are we, and why do we do the things we do?

That book was over five years ago, and at the time, it was a lark, an interesting peek into our nature that could be shared with young readers. The world is different now (understatement!), and once again, I find myself stepping to my yeti’s oversized, snowy shoes. I’m asking again, in earnest, dear readers, what the heck are we, and why the heck are we doing the things we’re doing?

For context, I’m an existentialist, so I’ve never worried about solid, unchanging definitions of humanity. We are what we make ourselves, and existence precedes essence, if you know what I mean. I’m totally cool with BYOM (bring your own meaning), but even with my à la carte approach to human nature, I’m wondering, are we even thinking about this anymore?

Years ago, my yeti persona put forth several ideas as starting points. Maybe it’s time I revisited them.

Okay, so humans are bodies that come in all shapes, colours, and configurations. This shouldn’t be controversial, but historically, it has been, and continues to be. We’re more than ready to use whatever differences someone has against them, even if these differences pose no threat or imposition to themselves or others. Even though we know more about human bodies than ever before, we’re still so uncomfortable in our own skins, and so quick to push back on others. So, there’s that.    

Humans are also something more than just collections of molecules, although the jury’s still out on what this “something more” entails. For the sake of convenience, maybe we say that humans are minds too. We are at least capable of thinking, learning, creating, innovating, and communicating. We tend to use tools and make new stuff. Current events show that “capable of thinking” and “willing to think” are two very different things. Sigh.

Humans are social, and we seem to collect into groups, sometimes big ones. Sometimes we take care of one another, and sometimes (ahem) we don’t. It feels like many of us are surprisingly offended at the notion of caring for others right now. We call those who give a darn by some pretty awful names. Sorry, Yeti. This one’s embarrassing.  

Humans have a concept of time, and an awareness that at least some part of our being is finite. Do we extend this recognition of the fragility of our existence, of the existence of anything living, really, to other species, to our world in general? Not presently, no.  

We humans also like to think of ourselves as individuals, that there’s something special and unique about each of us. We expect at least some elbow room to make choices and do the things we want to do. Dare I use the word “free” to describe us, or am I going to get all kinds of warped definitions of freedom lobbed at me?

If I sound like I’m not as big a fan of human beings as I used to be, well, there’s good reason for that. You’ll notice that in the list above, I didn’t include anything about warfare or obsession with property. I’m trying to be charitable and approach “us” with genuine curiosity and an open mind. I’m reminding myself that existentially, we are fallible, and are also a work in progress. We have always been and will always be in the middle of figuring ourselves out. Maybe we’re in the gross, disturbing part of history, and things will change for the better as we clear our heads.

I don’t know if I would, or could write that book today, at least not the same way. Even if I leaned into the notion that we’re still working out the details of who and what we are, I don’t know if I’d feel confident in throwing out possibilities or venturing a guess. Making it cheerful and cartoony and rhyme-y would be a challenge.

I’m trying, like really trying, to put my yeti hat back on and give us humans the benefit of the doubt, but all I want to do is stomp back into the woods and pretend I’ve never even heard of us. I need to know that there are other “cryptids” out there watching and wondering, and that maybe they’ve stumbled onto something I haven’t.

Anyone?