Why do we cherish things? Why do we cling to them? Why do we hold objects and experiences in that special place in our mind or our heart? Why are we, almost universally, sentimental, to some degree or another?
I wonder if this is a distinctly human characteristic. I can't imagine that the amount of emotional intelligence required is common in the animal kingdom; animals that are struggling to survive can't afford to let irrationality or sentimentality influence decision making. If a rabbit isn't willing to abandon his entire world, mate, offspring, home, and all, at the drop of a hat, with no hesitation, to run for his life, he's liable to be a coyote's dinner. He knows he can encounter a new mate, make new offspring, find a new home, so long as he's alive. That's all that matters to him.
Humans though, we don't work that way. A man would fight for his mate, or try to escape with her. A woman wouldn't abandon her children to a threat, no matter how dire. Anyone would try to extinguish a fire in their home. Now these are matters of the hierarchy of needs and not something based in pure sentimentality but it serves the point of illustrating that people, despite my own assertions to the contrary, operate on an emotional level above that of most other life forms.
Maybe, it is because of emotional intelligence, that we need sentimentality. There's a case to be made that it has evolutionary benefits. Cherishing past times, and those memories, can prevent grief from overpowering us in times of loss. Everything ends, especially the good times. But they aren't forgotten. Just because you leave the amusement park, you won't forget the wind in your face on the roller coaster, or how good that cob of corn tasted, or the look in her eyes when she smiled at you. Even if she hates you now, and the roller coaster makes you puke, you won't ever forget those times. You remember them, deliberately, and purposefully.
But what *is* the purpose? We come back to the original question. *Why* do we cherish this? I think the answer is simple: because we care. Its important, to us, for whatever reason, or no reason at all. Care makes us good stewards of our possessions, of our spouses, of our friends. It makes us good husbands, good fathers, good friends, good neighbors. Its what separates us from animals. Its what makes us swallow our pride, bow out of an argument before it escalates, raise our voices when we need to be heard. We care because we understand there's something more important than ourselves.
When we care, we take better care of things, of people. And in doing so, we have better memories. You take the time to make that phone call to your aunt who doesn't text, or you stop on the road and talk to your neighbor whose wife had cancer, or buy your girl flowers just because you were within a mile of the florist, or tell your son that you're proud of him for his work even if he fails. Sentimentality-driven care creates the conditions that make us remember, and makes the memories important to us. It makes our lives feel more richly lived.
When we do so, we're remembering the good times that we had together, no matter what life is like right now. We remember those good times because of the bad things that didn't happen. We love the memory of that date night at the festival because didn't ruin that moment with a knee-jerk reaction to someone bumping into you; you were too infatuated to care. We don't regret not catching up with Aunt Edith because we *did* call her and let her tell us the same old stories about her cat Moses again; we know the stories by heart, but letting her tell them is a gift. We don't wish that we spent more time with mom because we made a point of going home for Christmas; we wouldn't want to be anywhere else, even if she was stumbling around drunk and overcooked the bird.
Almost universally, we are sentimental creatures. We care. Our memories drive us to make decisions that aren't really rational, but there was never another choice in our minds, because the things that we value aren't based on rationality or logic. We will fight like a demon against certain doom, or go to great lengths to satisfy a complex need for someone else, or write hundreds of letters that no one will ever read, because we care that much. Because we care, nothing else matters.
What do you care about that much? What is that important to you?
I wonder if this is a distinctly human characteristic. I can't imagine that the amount of emotional intelligence required is common in the animal kingdom; animals that are struggling to survive can't afford to let irrationality or sentimentality influence decision making. If a rabbit isn't willing to abandon his entire world, mate, offspring, home, and all, at the drop of a hat, with no hesitation, to run for his life, he's liable to be a coyote's dinner. He knows he can encounter a new mate, make new offspring, find a new home, so long as he's alive. That's all that matters to him.
Humans though, we don't work that way. A man would fight for his mate, or try to escape with her. A woman wouldn't abandon her children to a threat, no matter how dire. Anyone would try to extinguish a fire in their home. Now these are matters of the hierarchy of needs and not something based in pure sentimentality but it serves the point of illustrating that people, despite my own assertions to the contrary, operate on an emotional level above that of most other life forms.
Maybe, it is because of emotional intelligence, that we need sentimentality. There's a case to be made that it has evolutionary benefits. Cherishing past times, and those memories, can prevent grief from overpowering us in times of loss. Everything ends, especially the good times. But they aren't forgotten. Just because you leave the amusement park, you won't forget the wind in your face on the roller coaster, or how good that cob of corn tasted, or the look in her eyes when she smiled at you. Even if she hates you now, and the roller coaster makes you puke, you won't ever forget those times. You remember them, deliberately, and purposefully.
But what *is* the purpose? We come back to the original question. *Why* do we cherish this? I think the answer is simple: because we care. Its important, to us, for whatever reason, or no reason at all. Care makes us good stewards of our possessions, of our spouses, of our friends. It makes us good husbands, good fathers, good friends, good neighbors. Its what separates us from animals. Its what makes us swallow our pride, bow out of an argument before it escalates, raise our voices when we need to be heard. We care because we understand there's something more important than ourselves.
When we care, we take better care of things, of people. And in doing so, we have better memories. You take the time to make that phone call to your aunt who doesn't text, or you stop on the road and talk to your neighbor whose wife had cancer, or buy your girl flowers just because you were within a mile of the florist, or tell your son that you're proud of him for his work even if he fails. Sentimentality-driven care creates the conditions that make us remember, and makes the memories important to us. It makes our lives feel more richly lived.
When we do so, we're remembering the good times that we had together, no matter what life is like right now. We remember those good times because of the bad things that didn't happen. We love the memory of that date night at the festival because didn't ruin that moment with a knee-jerk reaction to someone bumping into you; you were too infatuated to care. We don't regret not catching up with Aunt Edith because we *did* call her and let her tell us the same old stories about her cat Moses again; we know the stories by heart, but letting her tell them is a gift. We don't wish that we spent more time with mom because we made a point of going home for Christmas; we wouldn't want to be anywhere else, even if she was stumbling around drunk and overcooked the bird.
Almost universally, we are sentimental creatures. We care. Our memories drive us to make decisions that aren't really rational, but there was never another choice in our minds, because the things that we value aren't based on rationality or logic. We will fight like a demon against certain doom, or go to great lengths to satisfy a complex need for someone else, or write hundreds of letters that no one will ever read, because we care that much. Because we care, nothing else matters.
What do you care about that much? What is that important to you?
