Musings about Life Archives - The Cracked Door

How to Prepare Yourself When What You Want to Do with Your Life Keeps Changing

In life, if I have learned anything over the course of my life, it is that I cannot predict the person I will be in a few years. We all change overtime, often in unpredictable ways, and even though a core of me remains the same, my specific goals, passions, and interests always seem to redefine themselves over the years.

For example, I have held a career for over seven years that I didn’t even know existed a year or two before starting. Then, after thinking I would do that into the foreseeable future, I ended up pursuing a very different dream of traveling the world.

The same thing happens when you look back at your past. In the moment, you may experience a major life event one way – whether horrifying, frustrating, saddening, joyous – but years or decades later, when you look back at it, you will likely feel very differently about it.

That is one thing that gives me pause when considering quickly rushing into permanent actions that will lock me in for many years or decades. I don’t really know what my future self will think of it years down the line. So then, how can I be certain that I still desire what I am seeking at that moment?

So, how should someone respond to this uncertainty? I can think of three basic approaches: 1) maximizing one’s ability to act now, 2) planning long-term projects for future gain, or 3) preparing oneself to become as perfect as possible before venturing out into the world. I tend to choose the former: positioning myself so that my future self is best able to make a decision when he is ready to.

Thus, I have tended to choose careers, living options, financial decisions, etc. that combine benefiting my current short-term interests while increasing the options that my future self will have down the line. For example, I tend to pick the job that best pads my resume to increase my options later while giving me intellectual satisfaction and financial security in the immediate future.

If a person is a car, you could say I spend my effort optimizing the vehicle. Building myself up to the best of my abilities, in terms of personal fulfillment, skill-development, professional development, etc. This way, I am as souped up as best I can be so that I can later choose the route I want to go in, whatever it is that I will want to choose at that time.

To me, others who try to produce a certain route for their lives – like those with a five year plan – are like those who spend most of their time building a specific road in front of them. This can work well if that road ends up being the route they want to take, but to me, what route I think I will want to take rarely ends up being the one I actually want to take when I am older. Thus, if I focus on building a certain route, I end up getting stuck on that route in the future, or having all that work go to waste when I inevitably choose a different path later.

It may seem counterintuitive to constantly work on yourself like this, but my strategy is not to keep the car in the garage rather than taking it onto the road (that would be the third strategy above). That is not how short-term optimization for me works. I am already on the road, focusing on how to improve myself to be able to get to more places more efficiently as I travel. I know people who think they must stay in the garage until they are ready. Taking some time by yourself to prepare is helpful, but I have also seen many languish their entire lives in the garage, unwilling to venture out because they do not match their perfect image of how they should be. I am one at least who best prepares himself through trying things out in the real world.

This is how I handle it, and why I find it works better than the other approaches. You may have a different personality with different inclinations, but it can be helpful to think through what approach would work best for you.

The Dance of Water: Finding Beauty in the Tumult

The first time I whitewater-rafted was in a park called Ohiopyle at around 12 years old. Located in southwestern Pennsylvania we rafted along a famous stretch of the Youghiogheny River. My mother, father, brother, and I all shared a raft.

When the first rapids we had no clue what we were doing. Our boat rammed right into something. It knocked my father straight off the raft. I went flying out too, but before I could fall out of the boat, my mom’s body slammed into my legs on the boat, pinning them. Instead, I dangled over the edge, with my legs trapped on the boat and my chest and head hanging over the edge.

This was one of the most interesting experiences of my entire life. I hung there passively with no control over where I went or what I did as the boat careened down the water.

Waves would form around my face, in a circular vortex starting up from my chest and curving my face. They would form a cylindrical corridor like science fiction depictions of the inside of a wormhole. Within, I would marvel at the crystalline-like structures of water all around me.

Then suddenly the wave would collapse. My head hopelessly dunked in the water. My existence precariously converted into a blinding stream of bubbles and gagging as the water pummeled my face, and I thrashed amidst the current.

Then just as suddenly as it ended, another crystalline wave would form. This would go in cycles: the beautiful moments of respite to catch my breath while I marveled at the unique formations around me followed by periods of chaotic pummeling in the water.

It lasted for several minutes until the boat finally concluded its rapids. Then, my mother finally moved from her perch against the edge of the boat, releasing me to drop fully into the now calm water.

When I came back on board, she was not aware that she was pinning my legs against the side of the boat as she had entirely focused on how to navigate the coming waves. My father returned from his swim, and my older brother stayed perfectly safe in the back of the boat the whole time, steering it through the rapids, wondering why everyone else on the boat couldn’t keep their seats. It goes to show you how different people given their personalities and initial positions in life have very different experiences with the same phenomena.

Watching the waves crash above me reminded me how I really have very little control over my life. I am really being taken along for a ride by bigger forces around me outside of my control. At the same time, I still get to see wondrous sites as these entities form and break around me. The glory of life lies in these moments of surrender towards the unique dances the world creates.

At the same time, at least for now, I have been given enough of a break from the chaos of life to catch my breath and survive, to have my needs met in between the moments of serenity and chaos. That has been enough.

Time with the Glaciers of Patagonia: Finding Humanity’s Place in Nature’s Power and Majesty

Visiting Perito Moreno Glacier in Los Glaciares National Park, I was struck by how interesting I find glaciers. They remind me of nature’s majesty and subtly. Millions of bits of snow and ice slowly pack one by one until they become a landscape-shaping force. Even through nature’s slow, subtle works, all-inspiring entities emerge. Glaciers go on to reshape the landscape around them.

Every few minutes, its mass creaks with white thunder and whole towers of ice fall into the water, demonstrating how the glacier’s powerful yet slow flow builds overtime. A glacier can seem like a static entity, but the entire walls of ice falling out of nowhere into the lake below challenge this assumption. They really flow very, very slowly as they slide down the mountains. All that pressure eventually causes the ice at the very bottom to snap off. The ear-cracking thunder removes any notion other than that these glaciers are powerful forces working their way through the valley they inhabit.

In Torres del Paine National park, I hiked within the dusty leftover basis on the retreating Grey Glacier. Glaciers move tons of earth and leave the lakes, rivers, fjords, islands, moraines, and much more in their wake. For example, massive glaciers during the Ice Age produced or reformed Long Island and most of New York City, and significantly reshaped the Eastern United States.

Seeing towering walls of ice the size of skyscrapers fall suddenly into the water, humanity’s contribution to the world looks small in comparison. Natural entities like glaciers that are bigger, bolder, and older than us emerge naturally.. We can only experience the eons of time glaciers have existed in the ways they mold the landscapes around them.

At the same time, humans have had a pretty significant impact on the glaciers. Climate change is slowly melting many glaciers around the world, piece by piece. Our decisions too can accumulate into massive impacts on the landscapes around us.

Nevertheless, this glacier is still here. No matter what humans do to it, we can never get rid of the impacts its ice has had on the landscape. Maybe this will be the route of humanity as well: slowly creep into a massive force that slowly wither as well once we reach our zenith until we dissipate out leaving an impact on the landscape around us. Specific societies will most likely go that kind of route: wither until it becomes unrecognizable as it transitions into whatever comes next.

Nature produces massive emergent forces like glaciers and humanity, and those same patterns of physics will eventually take them away. Our lives will most likely only ever be one towering column of ice in nature’s system that also eventually falls into the water below.

Shattered Icons: Rebuilding Identity in Times of Change

The last several years have felt like an iconoclastic phase in my life. By this, I mean a stage of life where most of the things I once held dear have fallen apart right in front of me, and I have had to figure out how to reform myself.

Iconoclasm refers to movements where people would destroy the sacred icons or images in their houses of religious worship. In particular, this would happen from time to time in Medieval Christianity. The Christians would slowly accrue many icons (statues, sacred objects, or other things) that would become a core part of how they experienced God. Churches would become full of such icons.

Then, every once in a while, a movement against icons would sweep through the church. They would feel that the icons got in the way of true worship of the divine and would seek to purify or cleanse the church of such “idolatries.”

This metaphorically matches my current period in life. Many of the things that became most important for me and central to my identity demolished right in front of me, or at least that is how it felt. For example, jobs that gave me a sense of who I was turned out not to be what they seemed; important relationships withered; disciplines and interests that once compelled me have lost their favor; and the places where I lived that once centered have withered away.

How does one make sense of all of this; might as well respond? It can feel overwhelming, making it hard to know what to do. For me, it has been a slow trickle over several years, not a single cataclysmic event. Thus, the stress and processing has come in trickles as well.

I have noticed that I have been more cautious of relying on new things, since in the back of my mind, I doubt whether to trust it. I also notice that I have to give myself more time and patience to process everything that has happened. I need to be patient with myself while I do so.

Having an iconoclastic phase does not seem bad in the long run. It is teaching me what really matters in my life. A kind of refining fire of those past things that I have held onto, allowing me to transition into whatever new life stage I am forming. Often someone needs an iconoclastic phase during transition stages in life to supplant what one has and make room for whatever is to come.

That’s how I have been handling this stage of life. Maybe if you have such a phase, you would handle it similarly, or maybe in a completely different way. Either way, you learn a lot about yourself, however, by how you handle transitions.

The Importance of Singleness

One of the most common mistakes I see US Americans making about dating is to assume they must be with someone. US society has subconsciously taught us that to live a successful life, you must have found someone, and this can cause people to rush into relationships without really examining whether that person is a good fit for them.

Someone once told me that as an adult, she had only been single for a handful of times, and that these were the worst periods in her life. The longest was a two year period after breaking up with someone before finding someone else. She lamented how bad she felt about being single. She had internalized the societal messages that you are supposed to be with someone and had assumed that during these periods of singleness that she was doing something “wrong” in need of correction. She wished she had better used these opportunities rather than spending her time immediately rushing into a relationship.

Our single periods are precisely that: opportunities. Opportunities to learn about yourself, who you are, and what makes you happy in life. When we view singleness as an issue in need of correction, we fail to learn from that time what we can.

We should be more comfortable being single. Some people might want to be single their whole lives, and that’s fine. And some people might ultimately want to be in a long-term relationship, and that is fine too. But, periods of singleness are excellent opportunities to become comfortable with who we are and what we most value in our lives. They are an asset, not a liability.

The mindset that we ought to find someone can make us do one of the worst things in a relationship: settle. By viewing not being hitched as a problem to be solved, it turns whatever potential partner in front of us to a potential “solution.” Is this person “good enough” to be someone that we can use to meet this requirement? That can produce a sense that if they check certain boxes, they are good enough to be the person we want to spend the rest of our lives with.

But, if we are fine being single, the question becomes more open and genuine: Do I enjoy spending time with this person enough to spend the rest of my life with them? If you are comfortable being single, you can always move on and continue your single life until you find someone who you do want to spend your life with.

If you need to find someone, then your threshold for what kind of things you cannot tolerate must be much lower. This can lead to people staying in relationships that are not a good fit – or even with people who mistreat them – because they feel like the psychological or social cost of leaving is that much higher. Relationships built on such a premise are also much more likely to become unhappy, have problems (like abuse, adultery, etc.), or to end in divorce later (cite).

Spending your whole life with someone is no small matter, so it should be taken lightly. And trying to force your way into a relationship only disrespects and lowers the effectiveness of the process. Ironically, the best way to take the question seriously is to make it only one option in the first place.

Living through the Normal Times in Between

Movies and books often wrap their stories in a tidy, emotionally-satisfying ending. In a big climactic moment, the hero slays the marries or marries the love of their life. The problem is solved, and the story ends as they live happily ever after.

Life rarely works this way. There is always a tomorrow. For every major, life-changing triumph in our lives, there is the day after, and a day after that. Regular life eventually sets in now that we have to live in the new reality we have set for ourselves. Life has no big story ending (until death), just a continuation of more and more days.

Hollywood depicts success as being able to “win” or overcome these challenging climatic moments, but living a successful life seems to actually be about how to live satisfied during the “normal days” in between. Learning to be yourself on the quiet days can be the most challenging thing of all.

Looking Back on Life: How Seeing the Route You Have Taken Can Give You New Clarity

Hindsight can really be 20/20. Sometimes looking back on your life can give you a fresh perspective.

It can show you the path you did not know you were taking. Clodovis Boff in “Feet-On-the-Ground Theology” shared an insight he learned traveling throughout the Amazon rainforest. He was visiting dozens of villages there and had hired a guide to show him the way.

One day they were climbing a hill. Boff, unused to the terrain, was out of breath slowly going up the hill. His guide, who traveled these paths all the time, would fly to the next fork in the trail and wait as huffing and puffing, he walked up. Once Boff arrived, he would show Boff direction they needed to go at that fork and fly up to the next fork in the road.

Boff said while he was walking trying to catch, he had no clue which way he was going or how he was getting there. Once he got to the top of the hill, he looked back and saw how their path led right up the hill to where he was standing now. He realized life is like this: in the moment, you do not know how your roundabout route right could lead anywhere, but when you look back, you can see how your past led to exactly where you are now.

Reflecting on our lives to date like this can show us the path our life is actually on. It can also muddle things.

Sometimes when we reflect our past, we see how truly uncircuitous our route was. We tried something that failed to go anywhere and had to double back. Unlike Boff, we are not always led to expert guides and must discover the best path the hard way.

With this, we should be patient with ourselves. The route we now see only looks like a route in retrospect, but it takes many years to find that path. Chances are you did not know that at the time.

So reflect on your life but do so with patience and self-compassion to not only see where you have been and remember where you were at at that time. Even though something that clearly seems like an error now given what you know, you may not have ad the ability to know that at the time.

Why Is Life Not Working Out for Me: A Reflection on Andrea Hirata’s “Rainbow Troops”

I recently read Andrea Hirata’s “Rainbow Troops.” It is a fantastic coming-of-age novel about a poor boy growing up in Belitung, Indonesia and about the role individuals, society, and the world overall play in producing poverty. To wrap up the novel’s themes, the main character, In its final pages, reflects on how fate, effort, and destiny influence the direction of people’s lives:

Many of the poor from his island, in particular, give up and blame their poorness on fate. God or the divine must think they deserve to be poor like this. They may be tired, and giving up is the path of least resistance. Working hard can be like picking fruit while blindfolded: you don’t know what kind of fruit you will end up with, but at least you’ll have fruit.

I found this to be an interesting and honest reflection about resilience in the face of difficulties in life. Everyone struggles with succeeding and failing in life, but those without as many resources often lack the ability to safeguard themselves from their mistakes and the mistakes of others (see this more detailed discussion how that happens). This can make it significantly harder to continue to persevere in life choices like education that may prove useful for one’s long-term development. They often cannot handle the risk that they may fail.

Instead, they frequently must choose the safest option professionally: whatever will give them enough money to eat and have a place to live right now, even if that job pegs them into a lower income track. Thus, they narrow themselves to what has worked, even if it may not be the best option for them. Because of this, giving up or blaming yourself can seem like very practical options.

But blaming fate or blaming yourself both ignore the potential role society might have played to put them in this more marginal position in the first place. Societies often act to exclude certain people, relegating them to the status of poor or supposedly undeserving. But it takes time, energy, and emotional intensity to realize that and to determine how to best take action to address it, and those who need such action the most unfortunately often do not have it in them to work through that.

(For a more full discussion about the travails of the socially fortunate, you can read that here.)

Intellectual Vacations

Most people need to take a break every once in a while, whether that be a few week vacation, or sometimes a longer break to help unwind. A physical break can help us detox emotionally from the constant churn of our everyday lives.

An intellectual break can be just as necessary and life-giving as well, yet it doesn’t get the same focus in our society. Take time off from your normal rhythm of production and produce something new yourself.

For example, one could take a few weeks or months off to work on one of your passions. During that time, produce something, such as poetry, a novel, a painting, a new video game, a music album, a beautiful hand-crafted piece of furniture, or whatever it is you enjoy making. Such a goal gives direction for the time and also can give a sense of exhilaration at creating something with one’s own hands.

Many would rather it be in a field or hobby that is different from what they do all day, so if you are, say, a writer slowly becoming tired from having to write all the time for your job, paint, write music, or do something far away from what you normally do all day for work. An academic friend of mine cooks: using his hands to produce great food to detox from reading and typing on a screen all day.

In their jobs, many are denied the ability to make something that excites them personally. Their employers give them tasks, and they produce what the organization needs or wants from that. That can be worth the paycheck and can even be fulfilling for many, but after a while of producing, it can become soul-sucking.

Some do this during their off-hours throughout their normal week, but if you are able, it can be helpful to set aside a few weeks or even months every once in a while to complete something on your own like a sabbatical. Use that time to unwind from the stress of your daily existence and work towards something new that you are proud of.

If that is you, taking time for yourself to create something with your own hands every once in a while can help replenish you from the soullessness of conformity and drudgery. Go on a vacation where you physically unwind, sure, but also make sure you devote time to make something you are proud of.

Reflection on Living in New York City for the Last 5 Years

I wrote this reflection during my last day in New York City:

Today is my last day in New York City. I have lived here in Brooklyn for five long years. New York has meant a lot to me. It has been my single favorite place to live out of all the places I have lived in. Here are some of the things that New York has meant to me or that I learned during my time here:

1) Many jobs, most frustrating: I worked many jobs while there. I developed my professional capacity as a data scientist there. I had many jobs I loved and many frustrations. Many annoying bosses and many great people to work with.

2) Many relationships: I went on a lot of dates during this time. I went from someone pretty inexperienced with dating to doing it all the time. Some were good relationships, but for whatever reason, most turned out to be okay or bad. Finding someone often felt nearly impossible in New York, especially through dating apps. It had the problems of too many options, leading to difficulties finding which ones were the best fit for you.

3) Many new societies, cultures, people: New York throws a lot at you, and I loved that. I loved seeing the many different parts of the world represented here. Visiting all the restaurants. Seeing all the museums Learning about different facets of history and society. I learned so much about the world here.

4) Pandemic and foot injury: About half my time here was during the pandemic, during a partial or complete lockdown, and during that time, I was further handicapped by a debilitating foot injury for about a year and a half to two of my five years here. That was awful.

5) Transitioning stages in life: I transitioned from young adulthood to the starting of middle-life here: I arrived in my late twenties and am leaving at 33. During my time here, I transitioned from my youthful energy to what may be the beginning of my middle adulthood. I noticed my energy level, preference for routine over adventure, and desire for things like alcohol changed pretty drastically over time.

6) Changing life priorities: I arrived here burnout from graduate school but still in love with learning. I was connected very much with academia and out there intellectual pursuits. During my time here, my passions transitioned towards a career focus, which then bottomed out, leaving me to whatever I will find passion in next.

Over these five years, my career and building my resume I think slowly became my driving force. I built a career in data science and juggled multiple passion projects (writing poetry, an animated sitcom, a blog, etc.) In contrast to previous stages in my life, I read less intellectual material, spent less time socializing with peers, and tended to focus on what would build my resume or on the “crux” or intricacies of getting my projects done. I think this was a necessary stage for me as it grew my skills and my capacity to get things done efficiently.

At the same time, I think my interests are changing, and I am slowly moving away from that during my next stage in that. In the last year, I started to realize how truly pointless all such career ventures ultimately were. I got shaken out of the trance and decided to move on, focusing on what makes me happy.

7) Fewer relationships: I made less close friends here than during previous places I have lived and felt less connected community-wise. Maybe that was partially because New York is a big city, maybe partially because the pandemic and my foot injury stifled some of this, but mostly I think it was because I was focusing on my career.

Despite the fact that my time in New York felt like back-to-back life crises and stress, living here was still a joy. I will always cherish my time here.

(For more about life in New York City, click here.)