Publish and Perish, part 25: When the Ego Dissolves

[Context: read the previous part or start at the beginning. TW: bad amateur fiction!]

Herb nodded and started to leave. Gerald sensed an opportunity slipping away.

“Hey, Herb,” Gerald said, “since you’re here… Do you have a minute?”

Herb turned around slowly; at 68, he was still physically healthy but not exactly dynamic.

“Sure, Gerry,” he said genially. “What’s on your mind?”

“Can I, ah, ask you about your scientific legacy?” Gerald inquired. He sounded a bit like a teen asking a parent for the car keys.

“OK, sure.” Herb seemed surprised but unperturbed. “Go ahead!”

“Herb,” said Gerald, “I don’t know you all that well, but, to me, you’ve always seemed like someone who is at peace with who you are and where you are. So I guess I’m wondering whether you think you’re changing the world, and whether that’s important to you.” He added apologetically, “Basically, if you could tell me the meaning of life, clearly and concisely, that would be fantastic.”

Herb chuckled softly. “You’re right that, in general, I try to appreciate whatever moment I happen to be in the middle of,” he began. “And I’d say that’s partly because I don’t think too hard about my legacy — to use your word. But,” he added, “that hasn’t always been the case.”

Herb massaged the top of his head as if trying to find the hair that used to be there. “When I was young,” he said, “really young — in my 20s, in grad school — I absolutely did strive to do high-profile research that would impact future generations. It was an explicit goal.” He seemed to take a moment to marvel at his younger self.

“But then as I settled into faculty life,” Herb continued, “I realized that striving too hard for a certain legacy might be bad for the legacy. It’s sort of like… OK, bear with me here. I was still single at the time, and I was very lonely, and I wondered whether I’d ever be able to find a mate — a husband. But … you know how people say that if your goal is to find a long-term partner, it’s not good to be too focused on that goal? That you should try to be the best version of your single self, and that that will be attractive to the right people if and when they come along?”

Gerald nodded, wondering whether he was currently in compliance with that advice.

“I tried to take that to heart, and, meanwhile, as I pondered my professional future, I decided that a good scientific legacy might be achieved in a similar fashion. Be a good person, do good work, and the legacy will hopefully take care of itself.”

“Yes,” said Gerald, “I can see how that might work well.”

Herb smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’m afraid I have even more to say, though. As I continued to age — as one does — my thinking evolved further, toward a sort of quasi-Buddhism. You’ve probably heard me, in various meetings and conversations, emphasize our connections with others — with students, with colleagues, with the buildings and grounds of the campus. These days that’s where my focus is — not on my specific role in the world, exactly, but on my connections. I try to recognize those connections and nurture them and appreciate them. And the more connected I am to others, the less inclined I am to think in terms of my own individual contributions to the world. Others have described this as the ego sort of dissolving into the surroundings.”

Gerald was impressed by this explanation. “That’s … kind of beautiful, Herb,” he said. “I’m not sure whether that philosophy could ever work for me — but it might.”

“Even for me,” Herb said, “it takes a certain mindfulness. Embracing interconnectedness doesn’t come naturally to most of us because we’ve been trained to approach everything as reductionists. What are the key components? How do we separate them and study each one in isolation? Even ecologists like me are supposed to think this way, to some extent.”

Gerald kept nodding.

“I have to remind myself periodically that the scientific method, in and of itself, doesn’t necessarily lead to happiness,” Herb concluded. “We don’t call it ‘the happiness method’.”

Herb lingered in the doorway, where he had been this whole time.

“Um, I’m sorry I never really invited you in,” said Gerald. “Anyway — thank you! I won’t trouble you further, but I … I really like what you’ve said, and I’m going to think about it some more. Thanks, Herb.”

“Anytime, Gerry.” Herb gave Gerald a final smile and ambled away.

[Update: the story continues with part 26.]