A few years ago when I was a full-blown gym rat, I was horribly obnoxious. (I still am, but for other reasons.) I used to try to encourage people during classes by reminding them “the way to make progress is to keep going when you start to feel tired!”

I’d rattle off research that I’d read on how to learn physical skills (pay attention to external cues, not your own body movements) and why to fight through fatigue (fatigue is a whole body feeling meant to protect homeostasis). I would always say these things excitedly, like I’d just learned a secret.

After a few years of working out at home, I just rejoined a gym. I have a much more relaxed attitude about my own fitness and don’t feel the need to break any personal records—I simply enjoy a good sweat. The simple act of showing up can be a personal best.

In short, I feel a little more mature. Psychological maturity follows a pretty standard path: in short, we develop a more realistic view of where we are in the grand scheme of things. When we’re babies, everything is black and white; we’re the center of the world:

Over time, we acknowledge other people, with their own perspectives:

Later, our identity gets wrapped up in the group — we want nothing more than to belong because our group is the best in the world:

The next step: we feel comfortable being ourselves.

This was me at the gym a few years ago: I was comfortable being myself, but I still felt like I knew the best way to work out.

The pandemic has pushed me into another step, the awareness that my best isn’t the best for others. Over time, we step out of ethnocentrism (thinking that our way is the best) and into cultural relativity (appreciating differences). We recognize that other perspectives are valid. In the past, we would have called someone immature or irrational; now we understand that they’ve had a different set of life experiences that have led them different conclusions. But the world flocks to confident people with simple answers.

Wisdom is growing out of the bubble that insists we have access to The One True Worldview. If we have an answer, a data point, we acknowledge that it’s just a momentary snapshot of precision, rather than an all-encompassing truth about the universe. When we can accept that all existence is temporary and all lives have innate value, we are freed of the need to feel special or accomplished. We understand that we’re just a drop in the ocean.

We’re no longer attached to arbitrary social norms (decreased ethnocentrism) and recognize that we play tiny roles in other people’s lives (which allows us to not take things personally). We stop clinging to beliefs about how we think the world should work and can take things in stride.

Since reading about ego development, I’ve noticed how frequently people seek ego validation from others that’s disguised as advice. People at one of those middle phases of maturity — seeing their own group as the best, feeling the need to be recognized by them — are the ones with all the answers and need for acknowledgement.

I love this framework for wisdom, although it’s a little unsettling to realize that the kind of people who are the loudest, the people who shout out the answers — who wind up writing books on self-development, craft frameworks for how to live, who lead us at work —typically lack the kind of perspective that’s most useful in the long-term.

They are also the ones who tend to think they know everything at the gym. I’m still the loudest, but now I’m just cheering for everyone.

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