After a lifetime spent delving into the complexities of the human psyche, Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung was convinced of the reality of what he termed the collective unconscious. 

The collective unconscious, according to Jung, is a faculty of our mental lives, an aspect of the deep unconscious mind that is shared by all human beings, and which contains inherited memories and ideas from our ancestors. These memories and ideas, according to Jung, are not based on personal experience; rather, they are common to all people across cultures and time periods, a universal aspect of unconscious thought, stemming back to the furthest reaches of human prehistory. 

Jung believed that the collective unconscious was composed of archetypes, symbols and mythic images that influence our thoughts, emotions, and behaviour, fuelled by their association with themes and questions that have preoccupied humans since the dawning of self-recognition.

While Jung himself built a comprehensive theory of human mental life and behaviour on the basis of the collective unconscious, you don’t have to be Jungian to acknowledge that there are symbols and images, themes and figures, which surface regularly in our thoughts and dreams, and which hold a significance that resonates deeply in our understanding of how the world works.

A powerful example can be found in the symbol of the crossroads or the fork in the road: that point at which a path crosses or divides and, for better or worse, at which a choice must be made - a choice of direction, this way or that, turn left or turn right, head north or head south, because, say time and physics, you can’t do both - and, it follows, a point at which one future is embraced and another future eschewed, and all with only the most sketchy apprehension of what either future might hold. 

Such, of course, is the human predicament. And life, needless to say, is an endless succession of such moments, such decisions. Nonetheless, some choices, some changes of direction, definitely feel more momentous than others and, unless you are a very unusual group of young people, I imagine this evening has a fateful feeling about it. 

I certainly hope so. Because, truly, you stand now on the threshold of something hugely exciting and hugely significant: you stand now on the threshold of the rest of your lives, your lives beyond childhood, beyond school. So far, you’ve done 18 years on Planet Earth. Who knows, you may have another 70, 80, 90 still ahead? It’s all before you. What will you do?

Now, I have no more idea of what your future holds than you do, so it’s impossible to give any specific advice about how to navigate this decision or that, how to weigh your many options, how to choose between each and every fork in the road. But what I can do is offer some general guidance founded on having myself spent three score years on this beautiful, green and fertile globe.

And that, in the form of five steps to contentment - not happiness, note, but contentment -  is what I intend to do. 

I would like to start with what I take to be two basic biographical principles of contented people. 

The first principle - and you’ll have heard me say this before - is the inescapable fact that the only person you must truly be at peace with is yourself. No matter who else you fall-out with in life, don’t fall-out with yourself. A basic principle of a contentment is to enjoy your own company, as you’re going to share it every single day, whether you’re with other people or not. 

The second principle concerns your brain. Your brain has been in the oven of existence for nearly two decades. As a consequence of all that cooking-time, many of your habits are, to coin a phrase, baked in - and prising your thoughts and actions free of their habitual grooves is by no means an easy matter. But, if you’re not happy with them, if your habits vex or rile or frustrate you, then liberation can be achieved. And this moment in your lives, this moment as you leave your roles as school students behind you, is a wonderful moment to try.

Such, then, are the two principles in accordance with which the following five steps are offered: first, make peace with yourself, and, second, if adjustment is needed for that to happen, seize those moments that offer change. 

Now then, on to the five steps. 

The first step towards contentment is to decide on your moral or ethical coordinates: given free choice what values would you choose to embody, and in what kind of world? At the abstract and ideal level, what really matters to you? What lies at the heart of your belief system? Is it fairness, is it equity? Kindness? Compassion? Justice? Ask yourself: why are we here? What should motivate us? What’s the point of all this? Mutual understanding? An end to needless suffering? Universal decency? Human truth and progress? What ambitions are worth harbouring?

But, then, step two. Having dreamed and aspired, take stock of who you authentically are. What are your regrettable weaknesses, as well as your strengths? What has life taught you about yourself up to this point, really? How courageous are you? How bold? How much stamina do you have? Do you persevere? How about your will-power? Does it ebb and flow, can it be relied on when challenges stack up? What does growth look like and feel like to you? Be honest and be humane in your judgement. Treat your real self with care. 

Step three. Having made a realistic appraisal of your personal qualities, knowing what you can truly expect of yourself, of where you are at and what your self-knowledge tells you, decide what forms of personal expression you can licence and accept in yourself. 

Knowing that you’re human, that, as Shakespeare has it, you too will suffer the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, knowing that you cannot be all things to all people, that you have feet of clay, that you are a finite resource, proceed to step 4.

Step four represents the balancing act. It is the heart of the matter. Adjudicate a standard that mediates between the ideal person you’d dream of being and the actual person you are capable of being. In coming to this judgement, neither ask too much nor too little of yourself. By setting your sights either too high or too low, you risk being haunted by disappointment, regret, remorse. My advice is to follow this formula: Strive often and with as much conviction as realistically possible to give the best account of yourself you can, guided by your aspirations at step 1 but making peace with self-expressions that don’t rise above your judgement at step 3. In short, don’t beat yourself up for being you, but do being “you” well. 

And, finally, step 5. 

I scarcely need say it: you are ICHK alumni now; you know the power of humans and you know the power of technologies. You know then what can be achieved by people working in concert, working together with mental, physical, social and spiritual tools, to make things happen and to make a difference. So: draw on your human strengths; build human relationships. Never neglect your friends or your family. Never neglect those who wish you well. Never rest too easy; never sell yourself short; never dodge a fight that you know needs fighting if you’re capable of fighting it. Abide with your principles and with your values. 

As with so many of the most memorable quotes, it turns out that Mahatma Gandhi never actually said “Be the change you want to see in the world”, but that hardly matters, does it, for the mere idea that he might credibly have do so lends weight to a most important sentiment. 

It’s a sentiment that is summed up in another quote, which happily is authentic, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world: indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” Amen to that.

Graduates of ‘23, to be content, to know contentment, to be at peace with yourselves, and to help fashion the world you want and that others need, take it upon yourselves to be such thoughtful, committed citizens. Continuing right now. Who knows where your road will take you? Good luck.