byChrisWhite – 2014

Well, I must say, I’ve chosen a right sticky title for this chapter, haven’t I? Trying to tell someone how best to live is a fool’s errand, it’s like trying to determine the best color for a car, or which animal should inherit the title of Most Beneficial to the Environment. You’re bound to end up in a heap of trouble no matter where you start.

What sets me into fits of laughter might make my dear wife shake her head in bewilderment, and that’s just two folks sharing the same roof. Now, if you set out to define what brings joy to folks across continents, from the rolling hills of Tennessee to the bustling streets of Tokyo, you’d soon find yourself babbling like a befuddled prospector who’s struck nothing but fool’s gold.

So, why even attempt it? I suppose because, like it or not, we all have to figure out what makes life worth the trouble of getting up every morning. And whether it was the 1800s or today, the path to finding satisfaction is always bumpy, especially when you’ve got folks nearby whose main occupation seems to be telling you you’re going about it all wrong.

Take Henry David Thoreau, for instance. Now there was a man with a peculiar notion of what it means to get the most out of life. He went off to the woods to live deliberately, as he said, to stare into the face of the essential facts of existence without blinking, and to see if he could suck the marrow right out of life’s bones.

Sounds noble enough, doesn’t it? And yet, plenty of folks thought otherwise. Robert Louis Stevenson, that roguish novelist, dismissed Thoreau’s woodland escapades as “unmanly,” tending his life with “womanish solicitude,” which was about as high a mockery as you could fling back in those days.

John Greenleaf Whittier went a step further, saying that Thoreau would have men live like woodchucks on all fours, no respect for the poetic spirit, evidently. But in spite of all this scorn, one voice of reason emerged: George Eliot, a woman writing under a man’s name because she knew the world was not yet wise enough to handle a woman’s intelligence without prejudice. Miss Eliot observed that the great failing of many people is that they cannot comprehend or tolerate lives that refuse to conform to the conventional mold. In other words, if it didn’t fit their idea of useful, they were prepared to toss it into the rubbish heap.

Now, the thing about blazing your own trail, whether it’s Thoreau’s kind of retreat into nature or something else entirely, is that you’ve got to expect some resistance. In fact, you can almost count on it. More often than not, it will come from the people nearest to you. Friends, family, folks who mean well but have an idea of the “proper” way to go about things, and woe betide anyone who steps out of line.

But, to live deliberately, as Thoreau suggested, means you must first discover who you truly are, and that’s no easy task. It requires more than just dipping your toes into the water; you have to plunge in headfirst. And that’s true whether you decide to take the well-worn road in a Chevy just like Pa did, or if you set your sights on inventing the next marvel of transportation. Dream big, I say. Trust yourself even when everyone else doubts you, but remember, those doubts from others aren’t always baseless. They carry with them the weight of someone else’s experience, which, if nothing else, might teach you what pitfalls to avoid.

If you or someone you care about carves out an unconventional path, perhaps deciding not to follow in the family tradition of doctors, or opting for a career in interpretive dance rather than accounting, you can be sure the naysayers will come out of the woodwork. It’s not that they wish you ill; it’s just that they cannot fathom why you wouldn’t want what they’ve always thought was the good life.

Consider college. You’ve got your heart set on your child earning that degree, but they’ve got other plans, early employment, financial independence, maybe a traveling circus. What do you do? Or imagine, for a moment, your child wants to marry someone outside of their race, or chooses a partner of the same sex. These aren’t scenarios you see coming when they’re five years old, running around with their shoelaces untied. Yet here they are, challenging you to expand your understanding of love and acceptance, and to let go of some notion of what’s “supposed” to be.

I wish I could tell you that, when you take hold of your life and steer it where you want it to go, those closest to you will all clap their hands and shout for joy. But alas, that is seldom the case. Some people will never understand, no matter how much you explain, and others won’t even care to try. And that’s just fine. The world is full of imperfections, and expecting everyone to see things your way is setting yourself up for a world of disappointment.

Living deliberately is not about pleasing others, nor is it about avoiding judgment. This life, your life, is about knowing who you are and committing to that vision of yourself. It’s about understanding that every choice you make shapes the person you’re becoming. Do you choose to tread down the same path that worked for someone else, or will you take the risk of charting your own course, no matter how winding and uncertain it may be?

None of us are finished products. Life is nothing if not a series of experiments, and mistakes are just the price of admission. Every error, every false start, is a chance to recalibrate and try again. So, go ahead, screw up. It’s a sign you’re learning.

We grow up with influences, family, friends, society, and they shape our understanding of what life ought to be. We carry those expectations with us like a knapsack, filling it with the experiences and opinions of others, until it’s bursting at the seams. Then we set out, carving our way through life, bumping into others doing the same. And those people, with their own knapsacks full of expectations, will sometimes try to save us from making mistakes they think they understand. They mean well, but they cannot know what they do not know.

If your mother doesn’t understand why you’ve taken up writing, or if she learns you plan to spend a year practicing yoga in India, it’s no surprise she might raise an eyebrow. And if your old friend from high school can’t fathom why you’d leave a cushy investment banking job to teach high school algebra, well, it’s just as predictable. People fear what they do not understand, and it’s often love and concern, not malice, that drives them to question your choices.

Still, there will be those who try to understand, those lifelong friends and family members who will stick by you even when they think you’re a few cards shy of a full deck. They’ll ask about your plans, listen to your dreams, and try to see where you’re coming from. And you, in turn, will do your best to help them understand. These people are worth their weight in gold, but don’t rely on their praise to sustain you. Success comes from hard work and self-belief, not applause.

Then there are the others, the ones who refuse to understand, no matter how hard you try. They’re the ones who expect you to fit neatly into a box of their choosing, and when you refuse, they take it as a personal affront. You thought their love was unconditional, but you’ve found it came with strings attached. They may never confront you openly, but their judgment is clear enough.

The key to your own peace of mind is recognizing who truly has your back and who is merely along for the ride so long as it’s convenient. I call these people “conditional lovers.” They can drain your energy and leave you questioning your choices if you let them. So don’t let them. Confront them if you must, but don’t allow their doubts to become your doubts. Their inability to understand is not a reflection on you; it’s their loss.

Remember, living deliberately means choosing how you react to the actions of others. You can either let their judgments break your spirit, or you can do as Thoreau did and suck the marrow out of life in spite of them. Live for yourself, be mindful of the moments that matter, and cherish the people who love you for who you are. Everyone else? Let them howl at the moon. You’ve got better things to do.