“Everything has been figured out, except how to live.” – Jean-Paul Sartre
This quote struck a chord during my training to become a counsellor and coach. I was working with my first few clients, mainly expats, and it hit home that none of us has sussed out the best way to live. As young adults, doubt and insecurity gnaw at our ideals and perhaps the more freedom of choice we have, the more paralysed we become for fear of taking a wrong turn. As kids we unconsciously pick up lots of ideas at home and at school. These ideas meld to form an approximate lifestyle template.
In early education we’re shouted at to sit down, shut up, share stuff and not crayon-stab the annoying kid in the eye. As teenagers we may encounter teachers who get through to us emotionally and intellectually, teachers we like for qualities we admire, adults who listen to us in a way our parents don’t. School days stay in our psyches. So do these special teachers but while they might sway our tastes in literature or teach us critical thinking, they do not teach us how to live. In our late teens and twenties, we might latch on to other people’s ways and adopt them as our own. The rejection or adoption of observed habits and (life) styles gradually shapes our own identity. I’m not sure we’re born instinctively knowing wrong from right. In normal childhood, socialisation at home and school teaches us what is and isn’t acceptable behaviour and later we are able to form our own judgements.
That said, in some situations it takes substantial effort for adults to do the right thing. I often note that it’s easier to take care of others than of our selves. For instance, knowing you should engage in regular exercise, have a healthy diet, drink moderately, not smoke and stop chasing a love interest that couldn’t be less interested is obvious in theory but actually altering your behaviour for your own good is a different kettle of fish altogether. We know we’ll feel better after eating the fresh spring salad than the stodgy chocolate cake but it takes thousands of cake-regretting occasions before we consistently choose the salad. We make up all sorts of excuses disguised as sound logic. You don’t necessarily have to avoid the cake. It’s only an example – yours to replace with whatever’s applicable to you. It’s the noxious feelings that come after the cake; the knowing you’ve done it again, that it’s bad for you, that you have to get over the guilt and self-loathing of making the same wrong decision for the hundredth time and privately bear the wretchedness of having all the best intentions, knowledge and equipment to do what’s right yet lacking the capacity to employ them.
There’s no fail-safe formula. Live in a way that’s pleasing to you and compatible with those around you. What works for me is being as authentic as I can whenever I can, being around genuine people and a daily solitary walk around Amsterdam for at least an hour. The walk settles my thoughts and puts my faculties on autopilot. It’s the best part of my day. My mind clears itself of clients, friends and other inhabitants and I come home mentally energised and physically fulfilled. Discover what works for you and do it: knitting, painting, exercising, journalling, making food or making music. Be good to yourself but remain conscious of how your actions affect others; you can’t get along with everybody but an uncluttered conscience goes a long way towards feeling and living well. Life and learning are lifelong processes. Human beings are exasperating yet wondrous works in progress that will never be perfect or completely free of pain. Or love. Damage limitation might be as safe as it gets. That doesn’t mean hiding in your room, it means going out there with as much self-knowledge, courage and open-mindedness as you can muster, making sure you have decent people around for when the going gets tough and choosing how you respond to events outside of your control.