Why do we find it so difficult to engage in deep thinking, writing, or philosophy? We can push ourselves through an intense 90-minute yoga session in the heat, yet opening a blank document and writing a single paragraph feels impossible.
I can’t give you a universal answer, but I can tell you why I struggle with it.
Anxiety pulls us into the wrong state of mind—one that feels rational but is, in truth, reactive and scattered. We have lived in this anxious mind for so long that it feels like intelligence, yet it often leads us astray. In this state, we analyze irrelevant data, fixate on imagined threats, and avoid the present moment.
Procrastination and avoidance are rooted in anxiety about the future. We hesitate to write because we fear the result, we put off commitments because we fear failure, and we avoid effort because we doubt its worth.
Yet, paradoxically, we always seem to find time for the things that anchor us to the present—a hug, a deep kiss, a shared glance. Even in the busiest moments, we can touch our partner’s face, offer a small gesture of affection, or share a reassuring word. This is not optional. It is a fundamental part of being human.
The Power of Connection and Touch
We often forget what we truly are—highly intelligent apes, shaped by millions of years of evolution. Like wolves, lions, and gorillas, we bond through touch, play, and physical closeness.
In intimate relationships, connection is built through:
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Skin-to-skin touch
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Eye contact
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Making love
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Simple acts of service—a handwritten note, a thoughtful gift, cleaning up after a meal
There is no intellectual substitute for touch. No amount of conversation, problem-solving, or philosophy can replace the power of physical reassurance.
The Paradox of Human Intelligence
What makes us unique is also what makes us suffer.
We have enough intelligence to override our instincts, which can work in our favor—or against us. Our instincts may tell us to fight, defend, dominate, and take, but our intelligence allows us to choose self-control, compassion, and discipline.
This is the essence of character—the ability to develop the mind in a way that transcends primitive impulses.
Animals feel rage, jealousy, territorialism, and fear. A bear fighting for a mate must experience some form of jealousy, just as a wolf must feel a sense of self-worth when asserting dominance. These emotions, though primal, are not unique to humans. What is unique is our ability to question them.
A wolf, no matter how intelligent, will never play the piano. But we—creatures of instinct and thought—can create music, build civilizations, and choose love over fear.
That is both our burden and our gift.