My own entry into this postmodern stage came at the end of my university days, coinciding with what is already a huge period of transition in life. Until that point, I had well and truly bought into mainstream Western culture. Let me paint you a rough picture of my late teens and early twenties.
I was highly scientific and logical, meaning I fitted well into mainstream education. Success at school and university meant I was on track to a well-paid career in a recognised field. The idea of climbing the corporate ladder seemed genuinely exciting – I liked the thought of being the top dog, the big earner, the popular guy. By the time I left school, I had already set myself milestones for my salary. I wanted to be rich, dress like a celebrity and indulge in the luxuries of modern life.
My hobbies and lifestyle also reflected the average level of consciousness in my society. I drank a lot of alcohol, often to the point of blackout, and had a fairly terrible diet. My hobbies were rather predictable: TV, video games, football and gambling.
Beyond the details, I was absolutely embedded in all of this, like a fish in water. I had never really questioned any of it. I had been swept away by the tsunami of modern culture.
But in my final year at university, something came along and aroused me from my sleep. One sunny afternoon I was scrolling through YouTube, when a video about meditation appeared. Intrigued, I watched it, and it seemed like the perfect solution to the issues I’d been facing in my life. I started practicing it daily and shortly after took a liking to books about spirituality and self-help. They discussed topics that had hitherto been alien to me. I regularly watched lectures on the internet covering a smorgasbord of new topics.
This precipitated enormous changes in my life. My values changed: instead of wanting to gain for myself and be number one, I wanted to help other people and build a strong connection to them. I became more sensitive and feminine. I turned vegan, sold my TV, replaced drinking with hiking, and began spending lots of silent time alone in nature, to which I felt a new connection. Even my appearance changed. I dropped a significant amount of weight, started wearing looser clothes and growing my hair longer. After graduating from university, I spent a year or so soul searching, meditating and living an extremely simple life.
My career was also impacted dramatically. My dream to hold a top corporate position and drive a Jaguar now looked silly, and I realised I should be doing much more authentic work that was aligned with my top strengths and values. The fancy house and the shiny watch no longer appealed to me: I wanted presence and simplicity. I toyed with the idea of teaching maths for a living, figuring it would provide the contribution component I was looking for. Ultimately that didn’t materialise, and I had to continue searching.
Beyond all those highly specific changes to my personality and lifestyle, I became a bit allergic to mainstream culture and the modern world. Money, media, MTV – all of a sudden it seemed profoundly hollow.
Notice that these new traits of mine – my desire for silence and presence, my letting go of striving, my wish for a fulfilling, ethical and value-driven career – were all a genuine transcendence of modernity. Many modern people would balk at those goals, and they aren’t part of mainstream culture. In fact, they straight up contradict the modern mantra of hedonism, striving and achievement.
That was just a short summary of my journey through this phase. In my story, look carefully for the core features of the first-person experience of postmodernity. I could go into much more detail, but this isn’t an autobiography!
Anyways, this stage signified an enormous transition that was emotionally difficult both for me and for my family and friends. Thankfully, I met developmental theory not long into that process. It helped me understand what I was going through, and without it I may not have completed the journey.
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