Cynicism Is Not Wisdom (How to Care Again)

I spent years believing that cynicism was a sign of intellectual wisdom, before realizing it was just an excuse to avoid ever being disappointed. When I was twenty, burned out from youth politics and campaigning, I retreated into isolation and called it realism. Sarcastic detachment felt like armor, but it was really just fear protecting itself.

In high school, a classmate looked at me and asked: "Why do you care so much, Erik? The more you care, the more easily you get hurt. That's why it's easier not to care." After my burnout, I thought he was right; I spent weeks indoors playing video games and pointing out why everyone else's projects would inevitably fail. You never look foolish when you predict failure, because things in this world fail all the time.

But what broke was the chronic, dull numbness of not caring. Closing myself off did protect me from suffering, but it also made me feel less alive. If I met that high school classmate today, I would tell him: not caring turned out to be the hardest, most exhausting thing I have ever tried to do.

Explaining why someone else's idea is naive or corrupt takes zero courage. Real strength is knowing that something might fail or look clumsy, and choosing to care for it anyway. Caring is not naive; caring is the only reason anything good gets built.

The next time an idea fails or someone lets you down, allow yourself to feel the disappointment plainly without rushing behind a cynical theory or sarcastic joke. Say to yourself: "I cared about that, and it hurt when it broke." In my book Why I Love, I share eight daily practices to put down the armor and learn to care again. Where in your life have you put up walls to keep from looking naive? Let me know in the comments below.