Abandoning the pursuit of success, fame, or fortune, in exchange for the more novel aspiration of being good at life
I know the right path. The good path. I know it intellectually, emotionally, and even historically, but still, I refuse to take it. It’s the path that leads to sanity and happiness. It’s right there and I decline, knowing I’m choosing a more difficult one, from which I will surely emerge bruised, battered, and torn. I know this from personal experience, and yet still, I persist. I make the poor choice.
Frank Slade, Al Pacino’s character from Scent of a Woman, explained, “I always knew what the right path was. Without exception, I knew. But I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard.”
I hate to disagree with a guy who can Tango blind, but I don’t believe it’s overly difficult to do the right thing, to make the right choice. We fail to do so, not because it requires courage or integrity, but because it requires us to forgo our own egos. It demands that we face our fears, overcome our biases, or just admit that we know it’s bad for us, but we’re going to do it anyway.
I’m not just talking about knowing right from wrong, or making moral decisions, but choosing the healthy longterm decision over the immediate gratification of our basest desires; to make a quality lunch at home rather than going through the McDonald’s drive-thru; to have coffee or tea rather than vodka or wine; to make the choice we know in our hearts to be the right one.
There are many aspects of life where I feel as if I’m fighting my own mind for control over my soul. We clearly do not have full control over our minds, as your mind takes care of an almost impossible number of activities and processes without your conscious knowledge. We don’t actually remember to breathe, we just do.
We are sentient beings who understand our own mortality, and seem capable of moving freely, and at will, but when it comes to making decisions, it does not always seem as if we are in complete control of our own thoughts. As the old joke goes, “I didn’t want to go to Vegas,” the man says then points to his crotch. “He wanted to go to Vegas.”
What is both exhilarating and terrifying about our knowledge of the brain, is how little we still know about how it functions. They are constantly learning new things, but much of it remains a mystery, and most of us don’t even understand the things that scientists think they know. Experts use to believe that bloodletting was an effective means of healing disease, and that turned out to be incorrect, so there’s reason to be suspicious about what we think we know.
I’m not suggesting we question all experts, but we should always question science, for that is the purpose and meaning of science. Constant reevaluation and analysis, but by someone who actually knows what they’re doing. If you barely graduated high school, you don’t get to have an opinion on vaccines. You just don’t. You have a right to your opinion, such as it is, but you don’t have a right to your own facts. You can’t just believe things are true. There’s no vibing in science. You can believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, but that doesn’t make it a reality. Nobody gives a shit what you believe.
I was reading recently about Steve Jobs and his theory on signal to noise. I was vaguely aware of the idea and had heard it was his philosophy on being brutally efficient with his time, but also ruthlessly ignorant in how he treated other people. There was a time when I accepted this as a reasonable way to think about business. I could shut out everything and everyone and get a lot done, but I had to warn people that my social skills were inversely proportional to the needs of my attention. The more I needed to focus on a problem needed solving, the less polite I was.
I’m still okay with this in small bursts, but not overall and not as a guiding principle in life. I believe that many great minds were perfectly willing to put their work before their relationships and were therefore able to do great things, but I’m not so sure the tradeoff is worth it. You can be a genius without being an asshole, but a certain level of focus detracts from our ability to be social.
I don’t have any problem being kind, most of the time, but I struggle with patience and tolerance for stupidity and ignorance. It comes off as superior because it is. I’m annoyed to be living in a world so obviously designed for idiots that sometimes it can be hard to function. The world is made for the middle of the pile, and those of us on either end of the bell curve are slightly fucked. It’s just the way it is. Just ask Socrates.
Recently, I heard a quote that shook me. The comedian John Mulaney was talking about legendary actor Martin Short, in a documentary about the latter.
John said, “Marty is just good at life.”
I found this fascinating because while Marty is beloved by many, he has never had the career he dreamed he would have or achieved the level of success he had in mind when he was starting out. Mulaney didn’t say he was the funniest guy he knew or had ever met. He said he was good at life. I’ll bet that’s not what Short had in mind in his youth.
Short has talked about his anxiety about success, and about his place in an industry that thrives on envy and greed. To get to a place where the best thing someone could say about you is that you are good at life, seems to me, to be the end all to be all. That’s the prize. The brass ring. You win. Forget all the other shit. So many people suck at life, you might even say most people do. To be considered good at it, really sets you apart.
This wasn’t even the gist of the story, just a sudden realization for myself. What if that could be me? What if one day, I was remembered for being good at life? I am never going to be beloved. I will not be mourned by humanity or remembered for my great acts of kindness and humility. I will not only not be missed, it’s unlikely I will be remembered at all. Within fifty years of my death, I will be all but forgotten. A guy that lived once as a meaningless data point in the rather short arc of human history.
I’m also unlikely to do much of anything about this before I die, so that’s just the way it is. I’m not saying I couldn’t turn it around, but I find it highly unlikely that I will because I don’t actually care that much. But what if, after my death, the people who did know me thought, “He was really good at life.” That seems like a worthy goal and well within my grasp, with a little effort on my part. No one is saying I lived a successful, or even a good life. They’re just saying I was good at getting through life.
The funny part is that the only thing I would have to do to make this a reality is to be content, appreciative, kind, generous, and satisfied. These are all choices within my control and have little to do with external circumstances and the actions of others. They are not dependent on the economy, politics, climate change, or peace. They are only dependent on my ability to achieve a level of contentment with my reality.
I believe this is the key to happiness. Contentment and acceptance. I believe happiness is a choice, not a result. If you see someone who is regularly happy, you’re left with no other choice but to believe they are enjoying themselves; that they are enjoying life.
What could be better than that?