Why you ought to do stuff
On fulfillment
I’m a little frustrated right now, because I’ve been working on an essay for the past couple of days, and I’ve just realized that it’s garbage . . .
The whole thing is one big flashy, meandering effort towards a single, straightforward conclusion: changing your environment will not solve your problems.
So I’m just gonna pick up there, and throw the rest of what I wrote in the even though I feel like I wasted a lot of time, it was necessary because it got me here bag.
This won’t be long; I merely need to make a quick point.
Now, of course, certain environments are more or less likely to compel people to behave a particular way . . . I’m positive it’d be rather difficult to cure alcoholism at a bar.
However, the sort of change I’m referring to is different. The sort of change I’m referring to is the sad-life to dream-life type of change—the change many yearn for.
A lot of people these days are down in the dumps (I’m not really sure what portion of the population is actually “down in the dumps”) not because anything is wrong with them (though they are often told otherwise) or with their surroundings, but because they’re not doing what they ought to be doing.
I say this only because I’ve realized in my own life that I’ve struggled at times—and, indeed, recently—as a result of my unwillingness, for one reason or another, to do what I needed to do.
It’s no secret that we all have these ideal versions of ourselves in our minds, however aware or not we are of them.
Generally speaking, the closer one lives to this “ideal”—the more, in other words, we do what we know our future selves would want us to be doing right now—the “happier” we’ll be. (I use quotation marks only because “happy” is a blanket term that isn’t necessarily an accurate pinnacle, or marker of a good life . . . perhaps fulfilled is a better word.) The problem, though, is that it’s hard to be this person we want to be. Especially in a time when comfort is so readily available.
Not to mention—and more pertinently—it’s hard to realize, in a time of near-infinite choices (and distractions), that what we ought to be doing—what will actually make our lives better—is what’s sometimes about as close to the least comfortable thing we could be doing as possible. Put differently, it can be hard to discern exactly what sorts of habits or lifestyle this ideal version of ourselves would have.
I must note, quickly, that the only reason I say these sorts of habits are potentially uncomfortable is not because they are perpetually painful or unsettling, but because transitioning from one lifestyle to another (for example, forming a habit at night of reading instead of watching television) necessitates a sort of activation energy which is, by nature, uncomfortable . . . And of course, too, because what’s often best for us tends to not be what’s easiest.
How is anyone supposed to know that the solution to their problems (mind you, problems they’re often not entirely aware of) is doing something they viscerally least want to do over and over and over again? How is anyone supposed to know, unless someone shows them, that a certain sort of discomfort will make them feel most alive? How is anyone supposed to know that the problem isn’t anything outside of themselves (i.e., their environment) but with how they’re going (or failing to go) about life?
(And really, are all these people living short of their potential not better off blissfully ignorant, immersed in comfort? Isn’t it better they remain unaware of the fact that they’ve got problems in the first place? Who am I to say they have problems, anyhow?)
I’m not saying that life is all about work, or all about doing things you really don’t want to do, or even about achievement. I’m saying that most human beings are naturally ambitious, and if they do not do their due diligience in realizing, or making real, those ambitions, then they will feel a little empty, a little unfulfilled on the inside (and, mind you, realizing is more a matter of becoming than of achieving).
Of course, this effort must be balanced out by a sort of modesty, an appreciation of life’s God-given simplicity . . . which certainly complicates things (for example, how do I know whether I ought to enjoy or work hard in my 20s? And what would both of those lifestyles look like? And can’t I just do a little bit of both?).
Still, the point is clear—fulfillment requires work, and acquiring things outside of oneself—which can certainly be products of diligence—or changing one’s environment, will not make one feel more whole.
Life is hard, and unfair, and many people are dealt unequal hands, and it’s easy to think that if only I moved there, or if only I was able to get out of here, or if only we had better weather, or if only I won the lottery . . . but the fact is that this sort of thinking will not make your life better. Both because it’s a wasteful, if not detrimental use of time and energy and capabilities, and because those things won’t actually solve your problems.
Why?
Because your problem has nothing to do with what the world is or isn’t doing to you. Your problem is what you are doing for the world. And, too, what you are doing for yourself.
It is, you see, all about your relationship with life . . . the energy with which you move through your day . . . the guiding vision which drives your actions, and the subsequent intention with which you act.
I know this sounds cliche and airy and potentially a little vain. But you have to understand what I’m saying, so let me phrase it a little differently:
The salvation you seek—whether you think you’ll find it in a new lover, or a more paradisical city, or a better job title—will not permenantly change the fact that you feel like something is off, or missing.
To be clear, I’m not advocating for secular salvation . . . I’m not saying we can earn what is, in essence, God’s grace through worldly actions.
I’m simply saying that we are mortal, human beings designed to do stuff. And that if we don’t do that stuff, despite how hard it is, then we’ll feel a little sad.
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this post, please share it with your best friend. Or anyone.
Until next time,
RB
Great way to put it