Your Ancient Grandfather’s Life

This being human. Perhaps we’ve fucked it up a bit.

I imagine it used to be simpler. Certainly less complicated.

And yes, it was probably harder in a lot of ways, with the looming threat of drought or famine.

But how to live as a healthy, contented human was probably more straightforward.

Let’s back it up a bit. Imagine our grandfather 1,000 generations back.

Most likely, he lived in a tribal community consisting of family and friends.

He saw them every day. He hunted with them. Told stories with them. Laughed with them. Cried with them. Celebrated births and mourned deaths. 

He didn’t say to his closest friends, “We should get together sometime.” He certainly wouldn’t have been able to understand the concept of not being able to “find time” to connect with those he loved.  

His life was just saturated with connection.

His role in the tribe was clear. He would likely be a hunter. Not just for himself and certainly not for sport, but for the survival of everyone in his community.

His life had built-in purpose through belonging and contributing to the tribe, something bigger than himself.

He wouldn’t be as confused about food as we are. Meal plans wouldn’t have made much sense.

He would move naturally throughout his days when movement was needed, tracking, chasing, and killing wild game, then hauling it back to camp. He would have stared wide-eyed in bewilderment at modern people on a treadmill, running but not going anywhere.

When the sun went down and the fire went out, he slept. When the sun came up and the light returned, he awoke. He wouldn’t have known or cared what his “sleep score” was.

He would have eaten, moved and slept as his body was designed to.

His days were spent largely outside, benefiting from direct sunlight. The phrase “spend time in nature” wouldn’t have made any sense to him. Where else would he spend his time?

After all, he was nature.

There was no artificial noise or light. No screens or constant leaf blowers.

Picking up a glowing object and staring at it hundreds of times a day would have seemed insane. If he saw us today, I imagine him thinking, “What on earth could they be looking at?”

Because he had fewer mental inputs, I imagine his monkey mind was less jumpy than ours.  

His life offered more natural stillness, both outside and inside.

He probably didn’t use the phrase “I have to go to work.”

Everything in his life likely blended together. Flint knapping, dancing, sex, prayer, play, hunting, laughter.

He didn’t stare at the same four walls every day. He saw new horizons when the tribe moved camp to fresher hunting grounds.  

His days blended survival with novelty, adventure and spontaneity. In other words, joy.

And yes, maybe this is idealized. Life was certainly hard. Uncertainty abounded.

And if given the chance, maybe he’d trade spots with us in a heartbeat. The allure of easy calories, shelter, and safety might be too much for him to resist.

But one thing feels certain: the ingredients for human contentment were more naturally baked into his daily life.

Just like plants need sunlight, soil, and water, it seems to me as though all humans need the same core elements.

Connection. A sense of Contribution. Real food. Movement. Sleep. Nature. Stillness. And Joy.

And sometimes being human in modern society feels akin to a plant living in a closet.

Here’s my message: If you feel discontent in the current setup, I don’t think you’re broken. I think the setup is broken.

In our quest for comfort and convenience, we have made some crucial trade-offs.

Frankly, I think the fact that any of us manage to find well-being under these conditions shows the resilience of the human animal.

The truth is, it’s hard to be happy if we don’t have enough of these elements in play at any given time in our lives.

Honestly, we’re not necessarily supposed to be happy when these elements are missing from our lives. Sometimes discontent, even depression, is feedback. It’s an alarm going off saying, hey, something here needs attention.

After all, it would have been dangerous for our ancient grandfather not to move. How else would he gather food? Dangerous not to connect. What if he was alone and had no one to rely on? Dangerous not to contribute. If he wasn’t providing something to the tribe, maybe the tribe wasn’t providing for him.

Sometimes, of course, depression seems to show up even when the outside pieces are largely in place. Some bodies and minds are simply more inclined toward it. That’s part of being human too.

But other times, maybe the alarm is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. Maybe something in our life needs to be realigned.

So, what do we do about all this?

I know. It makes me want to join a commune or buy a van and head west. But I’d just take my modern-day baggage with me.

Maybe the answer isn’t to escape modern life. Maybe it’s to live more intentionally within it.

To take stock of what we’ve allowed to seep into our minds and bodies, and what we’ve let slip away from our lives.

Then decide what is actually nourishing and start bringing a little more of it back.

One Thing to Try

Write down these eight areas:

Connection. Contribution. Eat. Move. Sleep. Nature. Stillness. Joy.

Give each one a score from one to ten based on how fulfilled you feel in that area. One means not fulfilled at all. Ten means highly fulfilled.

This isn’t a judgment exercise. It’s an inventory.

Look at your lowest score and choose one simple action that would bring a little more of it into your life. Not in a year. Today. Or this week.

The goal isn’t to get each one to ten. The goal is to get each one to a “good-enough” place to restore well-being.