You Cannot (Definitively) Fail.
If you’ve read previous posts of mine you could (likely, and correctly) conclude that I spend a lot of time in my head Most of this time is working and reworking problems, changing angles and examining solutions and information I have or lack as I think. In short, for better or worse, I think.
That said, part of my personal plight and one that seems to be reflected in other people I see whom I consider “thinking” individuals is recognition of the unknown and the struggle to digest the vastness of what exactly it is we, the people trying our best to make heads or tails of life, see. On a personal level, as a 20-something this has come to fruition as I often analyze (and over analyze) what I’m doing, could be doing and should be doing, all through the lens of a spectacular “potential” I believe (like many of us probably believe) I carry. For an example, as I write this I’m vetting a playlist for music I like, passively playing an online game and leveling up and writing this to help springboard into my own more personal writing which I’ll do as soon as this is done.
Thinking about thinking and, more specifically, about the potential I suppose I carry is by no means new territory for me. Often it appears to others as hard work, dedication and motivation. However, as I grow older and the clock continues it’s one-way rotation toward my demise I have considered the possibility of my own failure more frequently — again, as a 20-something this may not seem “normal” but it seems prudent to at least accept that one day the curtains will close and you will have nothing else to give.
In thinking about the shortness of life and my devotion toward ensuring I live a life of quality, devotion and realized potential there are ample examples of others who have found themselves in this pursuit. I have recently enjoyed books touching on this, such as Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance (Pirsig) or the Tao Te Ching, the latter of the two carrying a quote that struck me deeply;
“Not-knowing is true knowledge. Presuming to know is a disease. First realize that you are sick; then you can move toward health.”
Unfortunately this quote and the entirety of the aforementioned writings doesn’t do anything whatsoever to quell the realization of that persistent, sneaky clock and its movement. Realizing that other people far older, wiser and more well-versed have found life is often an obsession-inducing loop, in which the clinging to specialized knowledge leads to one’s detriment can give a moment of relief, with the thinking being something like;
“Ok, great, so I won’t obsess about any one thing, but be balanced instead, accepting my own lack of understanding as I work to resolve it. Constant betterment, great!”
The problem, for me, is the constant wondering if my thirst for growth would propel me into a weed rather than a tree; a plant reaching in all directions but not providing shade, shelter or sustenance to any passerby. Is it better to keep reaching if everything do is a different path, rather than sticking with one or two things and doing them masterfully?
In short, there is absolutely no way to know the “best” path as you’re traveling it, nor is there any way for a different person to be able to offer a suggestion after the fact. Sure, there are detrimental habits or practices that can be minimized such as drugs, alcohol, unhealthy dietary choices, lack of physical and mental fitness and so on. But once you’ve climbed up, past the struggle of avoiding the worst choices there is little to confirm the difference between a “good”, “great” or “best” choice until after the verdicts have been reached.
For you, I hope the knowledge that there are others doing their best, even not knowing if it is fact the best gives you reason to keep trying. Keep reevaluating your relationships to see what you’re getting and what you’re giving, persist in getting those degrees, keep investing, never stop taking risks and never become so stagnant in your own knowledge that you suffer the disease of complacency.
For me, I have accepted that there is no way to know what hour of my life will matter. Perhaps everything I write will be unpublished and the playlists I made will go nowhere. But, maybe one phrase will give someone strength. Maybe every penny I make will somehow get allocated to the person who goes on to resolve cancer. I’ve accepted the weight of my life and the knowledge that it isn’t all my own to optimize.
-Matt Squaire.
twitter.com/mattaghetti
