Lessons learned from a lifetime of creative endeavors, critical thinking, and ideological indifference
In his 1993 memoir, “First You Have To Row A Little Boat,” author Richard Bode begins, “When I was a young man I made a solemn vow. I swore I would teach my children to sail. It was a promise I never kept.”
It would haunt him the rest of his life, this failure, and the book was his last chance to try to share the lessons he learned through a life of sailing. It began with an old dock hand introducing him to a humble little dinghy, not the elegant sloop he had dreamed of, handing him two oars and saying, “Get in! The first thing you have to do is learn to row a little boat.”
I have often thought this was an apropos metaphor for failing to impart any aspect of my belief system to my three step-children. Maybe who they are was always how they were going to turn out. Nature versus nurture. There’s no way to predict what might have been. But I still find myself disappointed that they have seemed to stray so far from what I consider to be some pretty core beliefs. How did I so epically fail them?
The problem with being an introverted writer is that, more often than not, my most passionate communication comes in the form of the written word, not the spoken one, and it never occurred to me to write to my family. What does occur to me is that my father did precisely the same thing, as he offered his wisdom to the world of people hungry to hear what he had to say while we were left out.
To date, none of my children have seemed terribly eager to know what I’ve learned these many years, so I’m going to tell you instead. Maybe you’ll get something out of it, and who knows, maybe someday they will, too. These are not technical details or knowledge specific to a particular craft. This is simply general knowledge that should apply to anyone concerning the best way to navigate life.
Let us begin.
Nobody Knows Anything
I don’t mean this to be some sort of anti-intellectual manifesto or an argument for unabashed nihilism, but almost everyone is full of shit. There are certainly truths in the world, facts that have been established through rigorous scientific methods, and experts who know a great deal about their field of study. What I’m talking about is the confidence so many average people exhibit despite their lack of any actual first-hand knowledge or deeper understanding of the issue at hand.
Essentially, I’m talking about the Dunning-Kruger syndrome and how little any of us really know. People in your office, at your church, on your local school board, or running your state house. Most of them are completely and utterly full of shit. Like most of the population, they know a little about a lot of things, or at least pretend to, and the rest of it they’re faking. Most of us spend a lot of time repeating things we have heard but don’t really understand and pretending that makes us knowledgeable.
Early in our relationship, I remember my wife feeling intimidated by the women I worked with and insecure that since they had graduated from college and worked in an office, they somehow had some deep institutional knowledge that had been kept from her. I had to explain that while they certainly had some technical know-how concerning our business and industry, she knew every bit as much as they did about modern society and consumer behavior, which is the thing we were supposed to be experts in.
There are no big secrets revealed to people working in white-collar jobs, no grand knowledge to be had from institutions of higher learning that are kept secret. As Will Hunting once said, it’s nothing you can’t learn at the public library for $1.50 in late fees.
The point is that in most instances, there are genuinely no adults in the room, nobody in charge who truly knows what they’re doing. The people in positions of leadership and power rarely know they’re assholes from their elbows. Most of us are just stumbling around in the dark, searching for answers and praying for grace.
So don’t worry about it so much, and don’t pretend to know more than you do. Keep your mind open and your mouth closed.
Don’t Hold On Too Tight
I worked on a brick crew in Philadelphia during college. Cable television had finally come to the city. Since everything had to be run underground, it was quite the project, especially in the older parts of the city where ancient brick sidewalks were still in place. Someone had already come along and dug the trenches and installed the ground boxes. My team was tasked with relaying the bricks that had been removed, and I was explicitly charged with cutting the bricks, many of them over a hundred years old so that they would fit around the boxes.
My tool was a diamond-blade water saw that we unloaded each day from the back of a pickup truck. I would slide it out halfway and install the front legs, then we’d lift it out, and I would install the two back legs. Then we’d put it somewhere out of the way so I could work.
The saw was gas-powered, using water as lubrication to help cut the bricks. The blade was stationary, and you slid a small sliding table holding the brick into the saw. A straight cut was pretty straightforward, but more finesse cuts, such as a curve, required you to maintain your hands under the brick and balance it while trying to cut slices of a curve.
It was dangerous work because bricks contain a variable density of material, and you could easily come across a hard bit that would yank the brick clear out of your hands. If you didn’t release the brick in time, an 18” saw blade with square teeth and covered in diamond dust was going to turn your paw into a bloody stump.
Consequently, you had to learn to hold on tight enough to do the job but not so tight that you lost a finger or your entire hand. It was a matter of balance, attention, and concentration.
Years later, when working with creative people in an advertising agency, I often relayed this bit of personal history and explained that it was a good metaphor for what we did. We were commercial artists. Whores. We sold our talent for money to the highest bidder. We made art for clients so they could make more money. This was all fine. We were guns for hire, at the mercy of the whims of whoever was footing the bill. We were playing games with house money, and it was necessary to remember that our work was not our own.
We needed to hold onto the creative integrity of the work we were trying to do. We needed to hold on just tight enough to exert enough control to do a good job but not so tight that we surrendered a piece of ourselves when the blade bit back. This a good metaphor for any creative endeavor, in my opinion, but most especially for any venture where you are not in complete control, which is most things.
Be Critical Of Your Own Beliefs
One should learn to think critically—constantly questioning the decisions and motives of those around them and searching for the truth. But first, you must start with your own beliefs. This can be extremely difficult and takes discipline, perseverance, and commitment.
Any schmuck can be critical of others, but it’s daunting to turn that critical eye inward with the same intensity. It requires you to question your own foundational view of the world or at least a few tenacious beliefs you happen to be white-knuckling. At the very least, it’s good to parade your ideas out into the sunlight occasionally, in front of people who disagree with you, and see if they hold water.
Don’t be afraid to change your mind when confronted with new evidence. It is not a sign of weakness or an indication that you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s a sign of strength that says you are bigger than your beliefs. Excellence requires growth, and growth requires failure and always involves a certain amount of pain. There is no success without failure, so embrace your mistakes as the best education you will ever receive.
The Journey Is The Point
Some things can take you your whole life to figure out. We are all striving to achieve some goal or another. Get to the next step. Reach the next phase. We’re all trying to get to some fictional destination we think will bring us happiness and fulfillment. It doesn’t exist. The journey is the point.
There is a moment in the film “Biloxi Blues,” based on screenwriter Neil Simon’s time in boot camp for the Army at the end of World War II. It’s set in Biloxi, Mississippi, in the heat of the summer. It’s a funny movie and worth watching. In the end, Eugene, the main character played by Matthew Broderick (Ferris Bueller), says:
“As I look back, many years later, I realize that my time in the Army was the happiest time in my life. God knows, not because I liked the Army, and there sure was nothing to like about a war. I liked it for the most selfish reason of all. Because I was young. We all were. Me and Epstein and Wykowski, Selridge, Carney and Hennessy, and even Sgt. Toomey. I didn’t really like most of those guys then. But today, I love every damn one of them.”
Speaking of Ferris Bueller, he has also had a good line about the nature of our existence.
“Life moves pretty fast,” he says at the film’s end. “If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
Avoid Wrestling With Pigs
They say you should never wrestle with a pig because no one wins, you both get filthy, and the pig likes it. To put it another way: Don’t get into arguments with idiots. They cannot lose because they’re too dumb to know how little they know, and there’s no one more confident than an ignorant man.
Be particularly wary of overconfident people. As a general rule, the more you know about a subject, the less sure you become. The world is a messy place, and very few things are either black or white. Almost everything is some indecipherable shade of grey. The more you know, the more you recognize how much there is and how little of it you possess.
The only supremely confident people are fools and four-year-olds.
This is a fact.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
You can claim all manner of things, but what you actually do in life is the true measure of a man. There’s something to be said for Theodore Roosevelt’s maxim to “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” Even in a street fight, the quiet ones are the ones you want to watch out for, not the loudmouths.
So many young people today expect constant affirmation and lavish praise for a job well done. Not only is this unrealistic, it’s completely narcissistic. If you can manage to do your best, simply because it pleases you and not because you’re seeking accolades from others, you will be a happier individual. If you consistently do a good job, with integrity and passion, you will be rewarded. I promise you.
It’s also good to remember that the smartest person in the room is rarely the one doing all the talking. If you find yourself doing all the talking, look around. You might be alone.
A Protector, Not A Predator, Be
Never punch down. Never side with the bully or find comfort in exploiting the weak. The bravest among us are those willing to stand up for the least of these. There is nothing courageous about picking on the lessor among us.
There will always be those who seek to promote themselves by picking on someone else, those willing to beat someone down in order to raise themselves up. More often than not, these people will not be the monsters you might imagine. They won’t look like the devil or some caricature of a Nazi. They will be popular and possibly even attractive. You might even be tempted to go along, to be part of the cool crowd. Don’t be seduced by the dark side of the force.
There should never be any glory in defeating an unworthy opponent, and if you’re cravenly seeking out only those you know you can beat, you are a coward.
Real Life Doesn’t Have An Edit Button
We are living in the era of the curated life, that artificial ecosystem of perfectly considered choices, elegantly displayed and full of existential meaning, with just a touch of hubris to keep things interesting. It’s not real. None of it is real. It’s a manufactured existence that requires constant feeding. It’s not sustainable for any length of time.
I’m not just referring to retouched images or artificial intelligence. It’s not just social media and our constant connection culture. It’s everything combined and how we have learned to selectively promote ourselves as a brand. How long can you fake something before you start to believe it, or even become it? It’s not just a question of how you present yourself but how you perceive others.
It’s one thing to know in your heart that it’s all fake and that you shouldn’t be influenced by magazine editorials, celebrity culture, and professional influencers. It’s quite another to convince yourself that you are quite enough without turning to serious plastic surgery and a massive influx of capital and fame.
Real life is mostly messy, disorganized, and tedious, punctuated by flashes of tragedy and comedy. It’s not scripted, and the plot is all over the place. The narrative arc is suspect, and all the characters are flawed, unlikable, and unrealistic. Most of us would require a complete overhaul of our lives to make them even remotely palatable to an audience looking for entertainment. The sheer amount of time we spend in the bathroom and looking for our keys would be enough to consider ending it all.
Happiness Is Not A Realistic Life Goal
At some point in the middle of the last century, Madison Avenue came up with the idea that happiness was not just some fleeting feeling or temporary side effect but an overarching goal we should all be pursuing all the time. We were told to seek fulfillment in our jobs and joy in our personal lives.
Technological innovation would free us from the mundane servitude of trying to maintain a home, and industrialization would provide everyone with a higher standard of living. We were no longer condemned to merely surviving. We could prosper and grow. We had vacations to go on and weekends to spend on leisure activities.
Advertisers told us that we could finally be happy if only we used this toothpaste, deodorant, or laundry detergent. The concept of the American Dream was one of expanding wealth and leisure, even if it was only relative. Happiness wasn’t just attainable. It was our right as red-blooded Americans.
What we all should have known, at least around the time we realized that doctors shouldn’t recommend cigarettes and that orange juice, as good as it is, doesn’t cure cancer, is that happiness had become a marketing tool, and fulfillment was just a ruse.
Possessions became the new currency as we attempted to keep up with the neighbors. Buy this shiny new toy and luxuriate in the warm glow of temporary joy. But eventually, we realized that the thrill was fleeting and the products were rarely as good as promised. Only now, we were stuck in a job we didn’t like but forced to carry on to pay for all the new things we were told we needed if we wanted to be happy.
Happiness is something you can buy. It’s a byproduct of being satisfied with what you have, which you might spend a lifetime coming to grips with. Happiness occurs in the periphery, on the edges of the action, and often comes unexpectedly. The moment you go searching for it, it disappears like fog or an orgasm.
Your best bet is to remain curious, with a mind constantly open to new ideas and strange experiences. Don’t lose your sense of wonder at the incredible opportunity to participate in this extraordinary thing we know as life on earth. Every day is a miracle of epic proportions beyond anything otherwise imaginable. The simple fact that you even exist is beyond comprehension, so don’t muck it up by overburdening yourself with unrealistic expectations and flights of fancy.
If you’re ever really in a bind, get a coloring book and some crayons and work on a few pages until your mind calms itself. Then have a snack, and, if time permits, a nap.
That’s really the best you’re going to do.