My mom (who is living with us at the moment) has been a Rotary Club member since 1987. So we now get “Rotarian” magazine delivered to the house on a regular basis. Normally, I don’t pay much attention. But the cover story of the January issue was titled “Wake Up and Live Your Dreams!” Seemed apropos. I opened it up to find an article titled: “The Rewards of Risk: What’s the Greatest Threat to the Pursuit of Happiness? Doing Nothing.”
So of course, I had to read it. The intro, written by a a travel writer named Frank Bures, talked about how disproportionate many of our fears are, and how our fears can be stifling, or even paralyzing.
“We live in the world our great-grandparents dreamed of,” he wrote, “yet we seem incapable of enjoying it, unable to let go of those handrails, ever more afraid of the unknown.” He also noted that some of the things that exhilarate us are exhilarating not despite the risk involved, but because of it. So, Bures concluded, “not taking risks along the way is the biggest risk of all.”
I have somewhat mixed feelings about that. I completely agree that to live ruled by fear is not to live. And there are certainly those who are motivated and rewarded by the very risks (and attendant adrenaline rush) that come with experiences like skydiving, flying, mountain climbing, being a war correspondent and the like.
There are others, of course, who accept the risks of adventure only because they want a particular goal or experience badly enough to take the risks as part of a trade off; who want to know, for example, the feeling of being on top of a glacier-covered mountain, or to understand first-hand how post-Genocide Rwandan women put their lives back together. They decide to take on the risks involved in those adventures but don’t necessarily get any sense of exhilaration out of the risk. For them, the risk is more like the price exacted for something greater in reward.
But regardless of how different people view the risks inherent in the pursuit of passions, dreams, or adventure, the point is still well taken: life is short, and to shrink back in fear from pursuing the joys or dreams or experiences that offer fulfillment, meaning, or make you feel alive is an awful waste.
On the other hand, it’s not always fear that leads someone to pause or choose another path than one most fulfilling to themselves. And sometimes that point gets lost in our enthusiasm for self-fulfillment and life lived to the fullest.
There are only so many hours in a day, and only so much energy in the human body. And that means there are limits to what we can do, and more stringent limits to the number of things we can do well. As a result, all the choices we make involve trade-offs.
If you’re single and living alone, there are fewer tough trade-offs involved if you decide to pursue a passion or dream, whatever it is … mountain climbing, a start-up entrepreneurial effort, changing the world … because there are fewer items you have to balance. A friend of mine has even made a conscious decision to stay single, because he doesn’t want to have to compromise his pursuit of passionate, risky adventures. More power to him, for being that honest and disciplined.
But if you have family obligations, the equation gets tougher. Indeed, I think the fictitious image and fantasy of the person who “has it all” does all of us a grave disservice. Because nobody has it all, if “all” means everything they want, at an excellent or top level of achievement and involvement. The men of the 1960s may have appeared to have it all, in terms of career and family, but as a recent New York Times article pointed out, they weren’t that involved with their families, and the pressure they felt as the sole provider, was intense.
My dad started his own business with an inventor-partner in 1972. And I still remember him getting up at 5 am to drive the hour and a half into the south end of Brooklyn, where their manufacturing facility was located, and getting home at 8 pm or later. He’d ask us about our days, and then fall asleep in mid-sentence of our replies, sitting up in his chair. He was that tired.
Today, that tension is even greater, because career-minded people, entrepreneurial or not, are expected to put in so many more work hours. Ironically, the decision to have children, which then makes us want to teach them to pursue their passions and find fulfillment–because, of course, we want the greatest happiness for them–in the same stroke almost unavoidably limits our own ability be a poster-child role model for that lifestyle, at least in its idealistic, unbridled form. Because if we pursue our passions and dreams without compromise, the thing that may be compromised is the happiness of the very children we wanted to inspire.
I read another New York Times article recently (which, unfortunately, I can’t find the link to, since I can’t remember its title or author) about an independent film director who was finally hitting the big time. The article mentioned that he had two kids, and then quoted him as saying that whatever they did when they grew up, he hoped they wouldn’t feel the passion he did for his work and art. Pressed to explain such a seemingly counter-intuitive idea, the director said that passion is great for the art, but bad for the family.
Is that our only choice? To wish our children a life devoid of passion, so they don’t harm their kids and families? Are passion and dreams inherently unhealthy for, or incompatible with, family life?
The question is too large and complex to answer simply, in a single post. Clearly, there is tension between those two pulls–one’s own pursuits and passions, and the needs and desires of one’s family. One cannot have unlimited focus and energy for both. And perhaps the key is how you define passion. If you define passion as a pull so great you will sacrifice all else on its alter … even your family … then perhaps it is incompatible to have both. On the other hand, I think (although I am open to being corrected on this point), that it is possible to have degrees of passion. Or passion or dreams that you pursue to varying degrees of intensity, depending on whatever else is on your plate at the moment. (Note the past eight months of my life, with all the family crises that have hit: my passion for writing, and this website, is the same as it was before. All that’s changed, temporarily, is my ability to act on that passion with the time, focus, and productivity that I’d like.)
In any event, fear is not the only reason any given person may not be pursuing their dreams and passions to the fullest. The question remains, however … how can we help each other find that sweet spot of the best possible balance–knowing that that spot will be different for each person–among the conflicting pulls in our lives?
More on this to come. And in the meantime, I welcome any and all ideas and thoughts.
I couldn’t agree more with your statement that no one can have it all (your definition). It seems to me that in addition to making choices pretty consistently along the way, those choices (and what’s best for us and our families) can vary over time. So those who have children (which we do not – never really felt parenthood was for us) may need to cut back on other things while those children are growing up, etc. Our choice means there will never be grandchildren or children to enjoy or possibly lean on for help if necessary later in life. But we have very full lives and have enjoyed ourselves immensely. All choices, which have varied with time, careers, age, and so on. I don’t regret a one of them.
All of our choices have rewards and consequences. It all comes down to where we set our priorites. As the opposite of Renay, (and yes, it is a choice thing) we do have children (and grandchildren) and they are a major priority in our lives and a source of great reward. The price that we pay are some trips not taken, an intsrument rating that is on hold and flight time not logged, etc, but those are the choices that we have made, and there are, so far, no major regrets.
I like to think that I do not let fear rule my decisions and choices, altho it is important to separate the physical fear from the emotional fear, and do the risk/benefit calculation on both. Fear is a valid emotion, and should not be dismissed too casually. I like Mark Twain’s quote that “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.”
Vive la difference !
I read your post with interest. The choices we make need to focus on all of the passions we have. If we do not have passion for a family then should we have one? I think a lot of our choices are based in fear. ‘I don’t really want a family, but I’ll have one with this person because they will leave me if I don’t. A life of adventure hopefully teaches us truth and honesty in our decisions is the best course of action. Dancing with all of our passions, fills and enriches everything. Some of my best ideas for writing come from spending time with people I love, while having simple adventure s together. Being a responsible adult is standing in our truth. There is great freedom in truth.
Sometimes courses are placed before us. Long term courses that may or may not involve “passion”. You just do what needs to be done. While living in England years ago, newly married, we found out we were pregnant. We struggled with the decision to keep the baby. Once that decision was made “passion” to carry on wasn’t the question. We did what needed to be done. No regrets. Now, years later, that boy is taking over the family business and we (my wife and I) are faced with what’s next. We just walked the Camino de Santiago and I am “passionate” about more “human powered” adventures that are not “comfortable”. My wife is not on the same page (she likes comfort than me) and so with my marriage at risk (perhaps the argument could be made that the marriage was not all that solid to begin with) I have to pursue this passion or regret it the rest of my life. My first voyage will be kayak/bicycle a major portion of Europe for two or three months. Hardly risky but nonetheless with my 57 year old bones and adventure. I cannot read aloud without tears what Teresa Carey said in a TED talk. It speaks to my soul: “We’re led to believe security, comfort and stability is a good life. But I think it is hazardous to our character and our spirit. I think at some point we have to come face to face with the most primitive circumstance where there is nothing to help us but the wit in our own head and the courage in our heart and the strength in our own hands. It’s in those moments when we realize there is more to us than we ever thought there was.”
Ken makes a good point about being passionate about family. I find myself in a position where I love my wife and children, but I find myself expressing that in a way similar to my dad on his deathbed–he was more concerned with making sure all the paperwork was signed than about spending his final hours with his wife and children. I understand his need to provide for his wife after he was gone, but for me, the priorities seemed backwards. I’d rather kindle the fires of passion for my family than leave them starving for the attention of the man they call husband and father.
I’ve put aside many years of writing, so I can provide for my family, but without the same passion that I would put into my writing. Have a sacrificed both in the process? I wouldn’t trade my family for a bookshelf of novels with my name on them. But now I have the challenge of kindling a passion for my wife and children that in many ways is alien to me.
I remember reading a long time ago (I think it was Fire in the Belly–I can’t remember the author) the concept that you should first decide where you are going (where your passions lie) and then find someone who wants to go there with you. If not, your paths will eventually diverge and you will have to follow your passion or follow your mate.