What If I Had Nothing To Prove?

Is the need to prove one's self a racket or the linchpin for integrity?

They say, as a kid you grow up trying to prove to your parents that you’re enough — smart enough, lovable enough, trustworthy enough.

As a parent, you try to prove to your kids that you’re enough — cool enough, wise enough, stable enough.

You try to prove to others that you’re capable enough to be a parent (or a layer, or doctor, or anything for that matter).

Heck, a lot of the time you may just try to prove to yourself that you can do hard things you’ve never done before. (Tell me this is not part of the motivation for running a marathon?)

We’re human and we love to prove shit. Frankly, I’m not sure if it’s a racket or one of our most essential qualities.

What If We Had Nothing To Prove?

Imagine a world where we had nothing to prove?

Sounds good to me.

I’m tired of proving things: To my parents, to my friends, to my colleagues, or to myself. It’s an exhausting way to live.

Expectations abound. Every day a million hurdles to jump through, most of which are created by my own subconscious fears of not being enough.

To make matters more complicated, my unfinished business gets passed on and wrapped up in yours. This is the way of the human world. We unconsciously give our baggage to others, notably our family, and now they have to act out the rest of the psychodrama and bring it to completion — Karma.

This is why I work on myself. To unravel the karmic knots that keep this racket alive. Yet this, in and of itself, can become another thing to prove. I need to prove that I’m doing the work. I need to prove that I can rise above my inherited patterns and be a better version of myself. I need to prove that all this personal development work isn’t for nothing, that it actually transforms my conditioning. Back on the hamster wheel I go.

What if I can’t prove it?

Then I feel like a letdown. I let myself down. I let others down. It’s deflating.

Which is why I pose the question, “What if I had nothing to prove?”

Can I free myself from the shackles of needing to demonstrate that my identity, role, or decisions are justifiable?

How would that change me? Change my behavior? Change my attitude?

Can I live an unprovable life?

The Wise Sages

“You have nothing to prove,” the wise sages say as they point to an ultimate reality beyond the suffering of this human karmic hamster wheel. Proving ourselves is based upon an illusion of a separate self, they say. When we see our fundamental interconnectedness, the desire to prove one’s self, and the ability to do so, dissolve.

To put it another way, I cannot prove anything to you because I am you and you are me. We are one. Proving anything is a figment born from the duality of the human mind. Our value does not rely upon purpose, productivity, or any other self-perception.

A tree doesn’t have to prove itself to the forest to be welcomed by the other trees. A cloud doesn’t have to prove itself worthy of “cloudiness” to be part of the sky. A baby doesn’t have to prove it’s adorable enough to receive tender love and care. It just is.

If you’re here, you’ve already passed the greatest proof in the universe: The proof that life exists. You have worth that cannot be denied simply because you exist. It’s pretty amazing if you ask me.

The whole proving thing is just a particular human complex (one that seems especially prevalent among the high-achieving, over-educated, upper socioeconomic class which I am beholden.)

If the need to prove is a sociocultural phenomenon, then I wonder what it would be like to grow up in a different culture. How would the need to prove one’s self manifest if I were East Asian or Latino? Certainly, there’d still be something I’d need to prove. The baggage doesn’t go away. It just changes shape.

Proving As A Tool For Completion

This wise sage stuff makes sense on one level, but on another level, my felt reality seems so different. Stuck here we are in the tangle of human life. As a result, a part of me cannot escape this “I don’t need to prove anything” premise.

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with proving one’s self. What if I want to go out and prove that I’m capable of something. In fact, it can be a great tool for getting shit done.

• I said I was going to write a book. Prove it.

• I said I was going to wake up and run 6 miles this morning. Prove it.

• I said I don’t care if I become wildly successful. Prove it.

• I said I was going to help you clean the house and make dinner. Prove it.

Show me by evidence, logic, or demonstration, that what I said was true. The proof predicates completion.

A lot gets done by having to prove that we are who we say we are. When we follow through on our word, we become trustworthy.

Proving ourselves is the linchpin for integrity.

Proving One’s Self As An Act of Identity Confirmation

To Prove: to demonstrate as having a particular quality or worth

A problem arises out of the fact that all of us are multi-talented. Our ability to develop a multiplicity of skills, cultivate an array of personality traits, and forge a myriad of careers and lifestyles creates a very wide palate for human expression. Wide indeed.

Such abundance results in a predicament: “If I can be so many things, which one do I become.”