Updates and an Upgrade of an Unapologetic Ape-ologist
- Apr 7
- 6 min read
Updated: Apr 13
Ken Breniman is a queer author, licensed clinical social worker, yoga therapist, and thanatologist guiding fellow mindful mortals at the threshold of life, death, devotion, and (r)evolution. His work blends neuroscience, primatology, Celtic wisdom, and psychedelic integration to invite braver ways of being human.
In a world driven by precision and progress, what if true evolution lies in slowing down and approaching life with more care and compassion? In this thought-provoking article, Ken Breniman shares his experience at Matang Wildlife Centre and introduces the concept of "kindsight," a way to perceive with empathy, wisdom, and intention. Discover how we can evolve and make conscious choices by practicing kindsight in our everyday lives.
The human ability to evolve kind-sight
There is a moment, if you let it happen, when you stop trying to be human in the way the world taught you, and you start remembering that you are, quite simply, an ape. Not better. Not worse. Just related.
I went to Borneo’s Matang Wildlife Centre not to escape humanity, but to sit closer to it. Closer to the branch where we diverged. Closer to a quieter intelligence that doesn’t need performance to prove its worth.
And somewhere between the humid air, the patient eyes of orangutans, and the steady hum of a forest that never clocks out, something softened in me. Not insight. Not foresight. Something else. Something I’m calling kind-sight.
Just because we can, should we?
We humans are remarkable toolmakers. We build things that extend our reach, machines, medicines, media, entire virtual worlds. Orangutans, too, use tools, sticks to extract insects, leaves as umbrellas, even improvised gloves to handle thorny plants. The difference is not in capability. The difference is scale.
And scale is where things get complicated. Homo sapiens refine, optimize, and accelerate. We celebrate precision. And yet, here we are, still asking the oldest question in a modern voice. Just because we can, should we?
We’ve used our tools to heal and to harm. To connect, and to divide. To amplify truth, and to distort it.
Somewhere along the way, precision has outpaced wisdom.
What I witnessed in Borneo reminded me that maybe evolution isn’t about becoming more precise. Maybe it’s about becoming more precious.
Preciousness over precision
At Matang, the staff includes Iban people, Muslims, Christian, who worked tirelessly, not for recognition, but for restoration.
Orangutans are critically endangered. Their habitats are shrinking due to deforestation, palm oil expansion, and climate disruption. Rehabilitation centers like Matang exist because human progress has displaced them. And still, the response here wasn’t domination. It was about care.
The dedicated team fed, monitored, enriched, and protected animals who may never return fully to the wild. Orangutans, who share about 97% of our DNA with humans, develop slowly, rely on their mothers for up to 7-8 years, and live largely solitary lives, unlike the hyper-social structures we humans have built.
They are not lesser. They are simply different. And in that difference, there is wisdom. The work at Matang wasn’t optimized for visibility. It was precious.
A story about an orangutan, a bowl, and a book
There was one orangutan I connected with. His name is Aman, and he is an alpha male with a presence that felt both ancient and immediate. Every day, I offered him something simple, a sound bath. No expectations. No agenda. Just vibration and presence.
Orangutans are known for their deep attentiveness. They observe before they act. They pause. They assess. In the wild, they build a new nest almost every night. Their nature is intentional, deliberate, and adaptive.
And over the month Aman and I shared, something shifted between us. He didn’t need to understand the bowl. He didn’t need to interpret the meaning. He just received.
At the end of my volunteer service, I did something that felt both absurd and deeply sincere, I gifted him a copy of my first book, Subversive Acts of Humanity.
Not because he would read it. But because I needed to honor what he had taught me. Sometimes the most meaningful exchanges are not about comprehension, but about connection.
Privilege, paradox, and the messy middle
Let’s name something clearly. As a white man, I was born into privilege I didn’t ask for. Yet, once aware, I have to choose how to use it.
As a gay empath, I don’t always benefit from that same system. Sensitivity can be both a gift and a liability.
And as someone raised in impoverished rural America, I know how easy it is to never leave, never question, never grow curious about the wider world. So where does that leave me?
In the messy middle. Where awareness doesn’t automatically equal action. Where good intentions still require accountability. Where evolution is not guaranteed, it’s chosen.
Defining kind-sight
Kind-sight is not a formal term yet. You won’t find it in most dictionaries, though variations of the word have appeared in psychology and mindfulness spaces as a way to describe perceiving through the lens of compassion rather than judgment.
If insight is the ability to see within, and foresight is the ability to see ahead, then kind-sight is the ability to see with care.
It is perception infused with empathy. Awareness guided by restraint. Intelligence softened by humanity.
Kind-sight asks:
Not just what is true?
But what is kind and true?
Not just What can I do?
But what should I do, given my impact?
In neuroscience terms, you might say kind-sight is the integration of cognitive processing (the prefrontal cortex) with emotional attunement (the limbic system), regulated through a nervous system that feels safe enough to choose connection over reaction.
In simpler terms, kind-sight is what happens when your wisdom and your heart finally start collaborating. And like any evolutionary trait, it requires practice.
A quiet echo from Jane Goodall
Jane Goodall has long reminded us, “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
After a month of service, I returned home not fully re-engaged with the noise of mainstream life. Social media felt louder. Certainty felt more performative. And I found myself asking: Now what?
Our tools: The brain and beyond
We sapiens have something extraordinary.
We can develop:
Insight – understanding what is
Foresight – imagining what could be
And, if we choose
Kind-sight – responding with care, even when it’s inconvenient
Kind-sight is not passive. It is not naïve. It is a deliberate upgrade. And unlike most upgrades, it doesn’t require new technology. It requires a different relationship to the technology and the biology we already have.
5 ways to evolve kind-sight in everyday life
Here’s what I’m practicing, not perfectly, but persistently:
1. Offer the benefit of the doubt: Most people are not villains in their own story. Ask: What might I be missing?
2. We don’t have paws but we can pause: Before reacting, pause. Feel your body. Let your nervous system catch up to your mind.
3. Debrief, but avoid the echo chamber: Processing helps, but too much agreement distorts. Even in Planet of the Apes, echoes reinforce belief, not truth.
4. Learn from orangutans – cultivate solitude: Orangutans spend much of their lives alone, not in isolation, but in attunement. Solitude is not absence. It’s integration.
5. Practice repair over perfection: Kind-sight is not about getting it right the first time. It’s about noticing when you didn’t, and choosing to repair. Apologize. Adjust. Reconnect. That’s evolution in real time.
The quiet upgrade
I didn’t return from Borneo with a grand solution. No viral insight. No polished framework. Just a quieter orientation.
A willingness to:
Use my tools more carefully
Hold my privilege more consciously
Stay curious beyond my own lens
Practice kind-sight, even when it’s inconvenient
Because maybe evolution isn’t something that happens to us. Maybe it’s something we choose moment by moment.
From one mindful mortal to another
We are apes with extraordinary tools. Brains that imagine the future. Hearts that feel beyond ourselves. The rare ability to choose kindness even when it’s not required. That might be our greatest upgrade yet. Not intelligence. Not dominance. But kind-sight.
Read more from Kenneth J. Breniman
Kenneth J. Breniman, Grief Guide & Mindfully Mortal Therapist
Ken Breniman is a queer author, licensed clinical social worker, certified yoga therapist, and thanatologist whose work lives at the intersection of mortality, meaning, and transformation. Drawing from neuroscience, primatology, Celtic wisdom, and psychedelic integration, he challenges the myth of human exceptionalism while honoring the precious role each of us plays in the ongoing evolution of our species. Ken is the author of a three-body solution and subversive acts of humanity, and the creator of the See-Soul children’s grief literacy series. Through writing, teaching, and ritual-informed practice, he guides mindful mortals toward deeper humility, resilience, and collective becoming.
