In Neal Stephenson’s prophetic sci-fi epic Snow Crash, one of the antagonists, Raven, arrives with about as good a warning sign as anyone can carry: The words “POOR IMPULSE CONTROL” are tattooed on his forehead — a reminder to the public, issued by the police in lieu of a proper judicial system. Ultimately, Raven, like any bad guy, has his reasons for his actions, but sure enough, he proceeds to liven up a chapter or two with his muscles, glass knives, and, well, quick temper.
In Be Water, My Friend, Shannon Lee explains her father Bruce’s emphasis on honest, constant self-expression. She touched upon it briefly in the book, but ever since trying to embrace the Lee philosophy, I’ve been wondering: Where’s the line between authentic self-expression and poor impulse control? How can we know the truly important things we feel called upon to do from the trivial whims we’re simply inclined to give in to? Which thoughts should we act on with immediacy, and which thoughts should we let go?
Shannon’s instruction is as clear as it is tough to live every day: Usually, we know. In our guts, we’ll almost always have the answer — and most of the challenge is not letting our brains override it. When you feel you want to tell someone you like them, tell them. When you’ve felt the pull towards an instrument many times, stop waiting. Buy a guitar, and get to art.
It’s great advice, yet still, sometimes, I have this hunch I’m on the wrong track — but maybe even that is one of the brain’s many tricks. Chances are, me wondering about the difference is already overthinking, and frankly, if I end up wrong 10% of the time, that, too, is perfectly fine. When I listen to the light inside, I’m perfectly capable of identifying what the real me would do in nine out of ten situations, and what’s merely a silly impulse to indulge.
I know you do too — and that’s all there is to self-expression vs. poor impulse control. Use it. Trust it. Rely on it. Have faith in your well-seasoned gut, and keep playing the song of authenticity every day.