September 2024
Here’s something that’s true: you’ll never get to do most of the stuff you’d like to do. Everyone can understand this: days only have 24 hours, weeks 7 days, and life is pretty short. But only until recently did I really believe this. I used to have this secret little belief that, if only I was more efficient, one day I would finish crossing out every item on my to-do list. Every trip, book, or project would get done. That given enough efficiency and time-management systems I would finally get to this heavenly state of contentment where I would rest in the satisfaction of having accomplished everything I had planned for life. I lived in a constant state of denial of my limited time and capacity despite the ever-growing pile of evidence: the books I didn’t read, the essays I didn’t write, the friends I didn’t hangout with, the trips I didn’t take, the texts I never replied to, the projects I never started, the chances I didn’t take.
I used to cope by convincing myself that whatever I missed out on was probably not as good as I imagined it to be. AKA, the sour grapes approach. Sometimes this was true: the mind is very good at imagining perfect situations and conveniently forgetting all the bad parts. But this only got me so far, because eventually one learns that sometimes what you miss out on is exactly as good as you imagined it to be. In fact, sometimes it’s even better. That trip you didn’t go to was every bit as exciting as you imagined it. The book you never read was as inspiring and cathartic as you were told. And that business idea you never pursued would’ve made you a lot of money. And they’re all gone. You missed your chance. And this will happen with, literally, 99.9% of the things you could do with your life.
But here’s another thing that’s true: this is actually good news. It’s precisely what you don’t do that gives meaning to what you do choose to do. Finding meaning in any task, in great part — or perhaps even, in its entirety — comes from the sacrifice it requires. For example, if you’re passionate about your career, part of its meaning may come from an understanding of what it took to get to where you are. If you’re an athlete, you are probably very aware of how fucking hard it was to get fit. Or if you’re in a committed relationship it may be hard to forget all the fun puppy-love-fueled escapades you could be having. But it’s when you take some responsibility, and sacrifice some possibilities, that actions become truly meaningful.
We have finite time and energy and there’s no getting around this. And even though this is easily understood, truly living this fact may take some adjustments. Personally, I discovered a habit of subtle indecision: always hedging my bets on everything I did just in case I changed my mind later on. But this only got me the worst of both worlds: not enough depth to reap any meaningful experiences, and just enough superficiality to tease you with the cool shit that could happen if you DID commit.
So now I try to apply a barbell approach. Either I do it or I don’t. And if I don’t, I delete it from my physical and mental landscape. A benefit is that you quickly learn to avoid doom-scrolling on social media. Doom-scrolling gives you enough crumbs to make you hungry, but not enough to leave you satisfied, and it falls squarely in the middle of the barbell.
I’ve also learned how to constantly let go of the literal infinity of beautiful futures that could’ve been. I’m 26, intensely curious, and I love people. Not a moment goes by when I’m not letting go of the idea of some idyllic future. But when I am able to let go something very interesting happens: every task, even the mundane ones, take on a transcendent glow. I exist, I am alive, and I get to do this. So why wouldn’t I go all the way?