I
believe in three things: reason, passion, and chocolate. And I’m all
out of chocolate. So I began pondering my little struggle. Here’s what I
thought.
Every life has a
Great Struggle. A struggle that defines how—and whether—that life will
reach fulfillment. Struggling well—facing, embracing, and overcoming
one’s struggle—and struggling poorly—escaping, replacing, and ignoring
one’s struggle—is one of the greatest and most necessary disciplines
that we must master if we are to live, prosper, and blossom. For the
truth is that if we don’t overcome our struggles, you
know and I know: we will probably end up trapped in lives that feel
like bitter and desperate failures, futile, meaningless, diminished.
And
yet, we don’t often consider how to struggle well. We’re taught to
strategize and dominate, subjugate and persuade, to trick and to
force—but these are often worse than useless when it comes to struggling
well. The truth is that these notions teach us to struggle poorly, not
well. They make the least of us, at precisely the very times when weary, frustrated, faltering, we must discover how to make the most of us.
Here, then, are my top three rules for struggling well.
Don’t look down. Look up.
Our first instinct, when we struggle, is to fight. Our impulses kick
in, and we think: to compete is simply to drag other people down—to
defeat, conquer, and smash our rivals, foes, adversaries. And so, when
we struggle, we often begin to look down on other people. But dragging
people down is not going to lift you up. You can vanquish all your
adversaries—and still struggle. But a struggle is not a fight between.
It is a challenge to. You. To better yourself. Do you see the
difference? They are not the same thing at all; bettering yourself, and
kicking others to the ground. To struggle well, you must look up to, not
down on. To great people, ideas, places, books, art…for in all those
are contained the levers which will elevate you.
Climb the mountain. Our
second instinct, when we struggle, is to find a way out—and if we can’t
find a way, to find a way through. Struggle is suffering. Pain. And the
ego always wants to escape the merest hint of pain. So we run and flee.
We hide and ignore. Through escapism and denial, we seek to alleviate
the wearying burdens of struggle. Yet, there the struggle remains; and
there it grows. The hard truth is this: our instincts impel us to
minimize our struggles. But sometimes we must struggle more if we are to overcome.
We
see a great mountain before us. And perhaps we think it is easier to
rest in the green valley before it. Why climb it? The valley is tranquil
and calm. Perhaps, after a time, we pluck up our nerve, and cleverly
search for passes that straddle it, caves that tunnel through it, paths
that wind around it. Perhaps we grit our teeth, and grimly detonate our
way across it, or slowly, laboriously, blow by blow, tunnel our way past
it.
And though we may
succeed, the truth is this. The mountain is only truly conquered when we
climb it. What is the difference between climbing the mountain and
finding a clever way around it? Everything. Struggling well isn’t merely
discovering how to extricate one’s self from one’s struggle—nor is it
merely living desperately through one’s struggle. It is overcoming one’s
struggle: the decision to strat dreaming, imagining, wondering, hoping,
falling, rising, growing…becoming.
Extrication is an act of competence, perfection, and execution; but
overcoming is different: it is an act of uncertain rebellion, imperfect
imagination and defiant self-creation. For it is only the act of
overcoming our struggle, through imagination, defiance, rebellion, and
risk, that we begin to reach the limits of our potential.
Accept the gift. It’s
not that struggle will, by hardening you, turn you into a Nietzschean
super being—devoid of emotion, immune to pain. It’s quite the opposite.
Struggle will turn you into you.
The you that you were meant to be, at your truest, deepest, noblest.
There are great arts in living; and there are small arts. The small arts
are the ones we’re taught: time management, communication, discipline,
and the like. But the great arts? The great arts are different—not just
in impact, but in origin. Empathy, inspiration, courage, wisdom,
compassion, honesty, resourcefulness, creativity. These are the things
that separate a truly great life from a mediocre one. The paradox is
this. The great arts cannot be taught—and yet they must be learned. So
how do we master them? When we stand atop our mountains. It is struggle
that teaches us how to be ourselves. For the truth is that only you,
standing naked, as you truly are, can climb your mountain.
We
will all struggle. It doesn’t matter how fortunate we are, or how noble
our births. Great riches and fortunate births are no vaccines against
struggle. True fortune is a life wise enough to accept its great
struggle. And true nobility is a heart that meets it like a brother. Our
struggles are just as unique as our lives. And so it is in them that we
discover meaning in our happiness, and happiness in our instants of
meaning. Here is the truth: without facing our struggles, every
happiness will remain meaningless, and the meaning of our lives will
never make us happy.
When we
struggle, what are we struggling for? We must always remember: though
we often think so, we are never truly struggling for money, power,
lovers, fame. We are struggling, in the final truth, to become
ourselves — people worthy of the existential privilege of the small,
vast debt of life we have been granted by destiny.
It’s
true. We might never conquer our struggles. And yet we must, with every
last breath we take, try, and try again. They may stymie and thwart and
beset us—but we must never let them defeat us. They truly defeat us
when they make us small, mean, grasping people. And we truly conquer
them when we grow into greatness. That is why they are here. And that is
why we are, too.
Breathe. Look up. See the mountain. Accept the gift.
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