31 Things I’ve Learned in 31 Years
Whether anyone will read this, I’m not sure, but I’m going to write it, if only to provide myself the opportunity to reflect on my life thus far.
I’ve tried, sometimes in vain, to use this last year to focus on creation itself - to focus on the process as opposed to the outcome. In some ways, I feel like I’ve been successful in that, but I still know there’s much creating to be done yet.
It’s been hard as of late to not have all roads somehow lead back to the pandemic. I mean, in all fairness, it’s pretty hard to avoid. When you think about the past, you recall a time before all this madness occured, and when you look to the future, all you can see is uncertainty itself.
That being said, I want to take a moment here not simply to discuss what I’ve learned this past year (which, for better or worse is a lot), but what I’ve learned so far in my life. When I look back, I’ve been busy, and I’m proud that I’ve leapt at opportunities such as teaching in Korea, Nicaragua, and Turkey. I’m happy that I have a few degrees to my name, that I’ve found my life partner, that I’ve visited 80 countries. I’m pleased that I’ve written a book with plans to write another, and that I’ve prioritized showing my family that I love them unconditionally.
That I’ve said “yes” more than “no,” and that it has often paid dividends.
I’m almost relieved to have so publicly proclaimed to the world with projects such as my podcast, I’m Anxious About, that I’m not perfect, but that I’m also not bothered by that.
There have been many difficult things I’ve experienced as well, but that is life, and I’ve learned as much, if not more, from the struggle and strife as I have from any success I’ve had.
I fully acknowledge that I am a work in progress, but, in saying that, I also feel I’ve crystallized a few things in my mind in my 31 years of life that I feel comfortable sharing. Ideally, I’ll look back at this years from now and see some truth in it, but also perhaps see a few things that I’ve changed my mind on. I’d like that, because it would mean that I have grown - something I hope to never stop doing.
And perhaps I’ve said some of these things before in different ways, but I’m okay with that, and, hopefully, you will be as well.
Here we are then.
Here’s What I (Think I) Know Thus Far
And, I should note that the following sentiments are, rather purposely, in no particular order.
Struggle is a natural part of existence. I spent a fair portion of my life envisioning a happy pasture on the other side of struggle, but, surprise, surprise, I never found it. That’s when I started to realize that the real trick in life is befriending the “struggle” and the process. We make the best of the cards we’re dealt, as opposed to complaining about the cards themselves. As Ryan Holiday has so aptly summed it up, “the obstacle is the way.” I remember reading Shoe Dog, and in the end Phil Knight talks about all the ups and downs, and says, “God, how I wish I could relive the whole thing.” He wouldn’t give up any of it - he’d take the good and the bad together. So, I try to remember that. I try to remember that wishing for only good days is hopeless, and that, in the end, it’s the difficult days that make the good days feel so good, after all.
A love of books and reading is central to a well-lived life. This isn’t to say that people who don’t read can’t “live well”, but rather to highlight I personally have obtained immeasurable happiness, context, knowledge and understanding by escaping to other worlds through words. I’ve always liked the quote from Charles Eliot that “books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”
All we have is now. We can spend our lives looking at the past through rose coloured glasses, or fantasize about the real or imagined riches of the future but, in the end, all we have and will ever have is this very moment. The best we can hope to do, through meditation and so forth, is to understand that with our whole being.
It’s ludicrous to think everything you do has to be a “success”. For some reason, we think that everything we start should be successful, but that’s not a reasonable approach. I’ve always loved Samuel Beckett’s thoughts on failure. He too believed that it was just part of finding your path to success and stated, “try again. fail again. fail better.” I also am fond of Neil Gaiman’s assertion that “if you’re making mistakes, it means you’re out there doing something.”
The people who want to hurt, are often hurt themselves. The people that are drawn to conflict and hurting others are, more often than not, seem to be doing so because they themselves were hurt or are feeling damaged. “Hurt” is the language they speak, and to prevent themselves from being hurt again, they go on the offensive to do the hurting, since, after all, it’s better than being hurt again, right? I’ve had people try to hurt me, and I’ve hurt others in the past, and I think it’s always come back to that human urge to puff up our chest when we’re feeling weakest - to veil our insecurity with a blanket of false toughness.
Be unapologetic in your approach. This is not to suggest that you should be an asshole, but rather that, if you’re not careful, you’ll spend your whole life apologizing, or not wanting to ruffle feathers for fear of having to apologize. There’s someone who will read this very list and probably make a negative comment, and, with all due respect, I couldn’t give less of a shit. In this case, I know that I don’t need to apologize for sharing from the heart with the right intention, regardless of how anyone reacts. I’m more than happy to say sorry and admit fault when warranted, but I’ll never apologize for simply trying to live, and figure out this world like everyone else.
Most of what we worry about doesn’t happen. I’ve spent more of my life in spirals of worry than I’d care to admit. And - surprise, surprise - most of those worries never came to fruition. That doesn’t mean that I don’t worry anymore (if anyone can teach me how to do that, I’d love you forever, by the way), but it does mean that if I start to catastrophize, I can usually remind myself that what I’m worrying about likely won’t happen, and then I shift to thinking about whether said worrying would even be helpful if it did happen. I allow myself to worry about things which I know will occur (an upcoming interview etc.), as that can be beneficial for me, but try to avoid worrying about things which may or may not occur.
We can’t do it all by ourselves. This is a lesson it took me longer to learn than I’d like to admit. I have no problem now, though, admitting that to be my best self, I need to ask for help when I need it, and there’s no shame in that. I’ve even hired a virtual assistant to help out with tasks for travelingmitch, believe it or not. But, I mean this more broadly than just that example illustrates. Life is not a road to be walked alone.
Sleep - yeah, it’s kind of essential. For most of my 31 years, I have done an incredible job of ignoring that fact. Now, I understand that I can’t do my best thinking without getting enough rest, so I try to respect that where possible. Many a parent has told me that sleep changes just a bit once you have kids, but, at the very least, I can finally say I’ve comprehended how important sleep is.
We need to move. I’m not talking about travel here, I’m talking about our bodies. Whether it’s walking, cycling, swimming or spinning in circles until you’re dizzy like a three year old - we need to move every single day. It strikes me that this gets even more important as the years go on.
There are no guarantees. I naively thought that my best friend Kiel and I would share stories and laughs until we were old and wrinkled, but, sadly, we only got to do that until he was 21 and tragically passed away. I will never be over that loss, but I learned that the best thing I could do was try to live my life fully. To try to live a big enough life for two, in a sense, and remember that each day is a gift.
At the end of the day, your life will only be as good as the people you’re surrounded by. Possessions will make you happy for a little while, but its other people that are the true source of happiness. So, we ought to be selfless, and not be scared to look another person in the eyes and tell them we love them.
It’s all about intentionality. I’ve tried in recent years to not just look at what is being said to me, but to look at why. In the past, I had a tendency to overreact or get defensive when it came to advice, but now I understand that if someone is sharing something with me out of love or legitimately trying to help, that matters. Also, I don’t have to take that advice, but I should at least have the respect to hear them out.
Some people are worth cutting out of your life. My system is far from scientific, but I’ve come to understand that I have an innate, visceral reaction deep inside of me when people’s names are said aloud or I think of them. Some people’s names seem to give me an immediate shot of joy, and others give me a feeling of unease. I’ve started to investigate that feeling of unease, and if I can reasonably say that said person is adding no value to my existence, then I’m fine with focusing on maximizing my time with the many people that I’m fortunate enough to be connected with who do definitely bring an abundance of value to my life.
Having a pet is wonderful. I don’t care if its a cat or a chinchilla, there’s something magical about caring for another creature and watching them grow. Also, I’m often working from home alone, but I’m never really alone because Kötü is usually asleep somewhere nearby. That, or screaming at me for food, but, hey, it’s often a welcome distraction.
Time is like sand through our fingers. Life, thus far, has passed at a pace that I feel comfortable with, but everything that I’ve learned so far about time tells me that, if I’m not careful, decades will pass before me without me noticing. I plan to be grateful for every single day, and to respect how fast life shall pass by being intentional about how I spend my time and who I spend it with. That, as we all know, is easier said than done, but it can’t hurt to keep these things in mind if my feeling.
Get outdoors. Spending too much time indoors is an easy way to ensure that you’ll experience countless bouts of anxiety and depression. We’re meant to take deep breaths of fresh air, and be near trees. This isn’t a hippie call to start a commune together but, at the same time, you can’t underestimate what a walk in a park can do for your psyche.
Take time to appreciate food. I still occasionally consume a meal while simultaneously on my phone consuming information, but it’s never a good combo. Where I can, I try to just sit in silence with my food in front of me and savour the flavours and colours of the dish. Or, better yet, share a meal with a friend or loved one, but actually take a second to think about how fortunate you are, and how delicious it is (hopefully!).
Practice gratitude. I once wrote an article about creating a work schedule when you’re working from home, and anyone who read that would know that I’m a big fan of the 5 Minute Journal. That’s because it forces me to actively practice gratitude each day, as opposed to it merely being a concept. You can read a bit more about it in that linked article if you’re intrigued.
It’s okay to say “I don’t know.” Everywhere I look, people speak with certainty about highly complex and varied topics, and I wonder if we wouldn’t be better of if more people admitted that they were fascinated by a topic, but still learning and forming opinions. I swear that an increasing number of people educate themselves on topics with nothing more than a collection of headlines, and I think we need to combat that with everything we have.
We can’t control what happens, but we can control how we react. This is probably the central tenant I’ve learned from my studies of Stoicism, and it strikes me as wisdom that was true back then, true today, and true forever more.
Striving for perfection is a lost cause. On the contrary, I think we ought to celebrate our imperfections, because its often these things that make us unique. Sure, I have a tendency to get frustrated or have a temper, but I now know it’s because I’m passionate and care deeply about things. If we break apart our imperfections, there’s often some kernel that we could hold up as a positive. I’m fond of Leonard Cohen’s assertion that “there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”
Laughter is everything. I want to look back on my life at the end of my days and feel like I laughed enough. I want to make others laugh, and I want to laugh with others. I don’t care if I’m the only person laughing, and I won’t apologize for laughing at my own jokes, much to Bri’s chagrin.
You get to decide if you’re enough. It’s not for anybody else to make a value judgment as to whether you live up to their standard. The goal, it seems to me, is to live up to your own standard, as best you can. If I know that I’ve done my best, that’s all I care about, regardless of the outcome. Some days, I don’t feel like I’m “enough,” but that’s normal, too.
Moments don’t need to be captured to be meaningful. There’s a great scene in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty where a photographer finally gets the chance to take a photo of a particular animal in the wild, and he doesn’t take the photo so that he can fully soak in the moment. I try to remember that scene sometimes to make sure that I’m “drinking in” the moment, and won’t need to consult my phone down the line to figure out just what the hell I did with my life.
Wealth is subjective. Some of the richest people I know are the most miserable, and there are people I know who live paycheque to paycheque who exude happiness from their pores. I’m a realist, I know I need some money to be able to do the things I want in life but, where possible, I aim to never let money get in the way of happiness. I know we’re about a sentence or two away here from breaking out into a naked kumbaya, but I really do feel “rich” because of the people I have in my life, not the numbers (or lack thereof) in my back account. I fully acknowledge my privilege here to grow up in Toronto in a stable home with enough food and clothes, and so forth, but all I’m trying to suggest is that wealth isn’t just an objective measure - it’s more a philosophy when you think about it.
You don’t have to forget, but you do have to try to forgive. This one is hard for me, but all I can say is that I now understand that grudges that we hold on to, ultimately plant seeds in our own garden. And, true to that analogy - you’re the one to water that plant, but you can also stop watering it and let it wither away. It is truly so much easier said than done, but all I know is that I don’t leave a lot of room in my heart for hate. I have hated what people have done, but that doesn’t necessarily give me the right to hate them.
Nobody owes you anything. It probably took me until university (or longer) to actually comprehend that I wasn’t owed a damn thing. There wasn’t going to be anyone to be there to offer me that job, or give me that opportunity I always dreamed of. Everything, it turns out, has to be earned. You send the emails, you practice your craft, you put yourself in a position to achieve what you want, and that’s it. Some people have a silver spoon handed to them, but I’m not kidding when I say that I wouldn’t want it. I want to look myself in the eyes at the end of my days and know that what I have, I earned.
Be specific. This one might sound strange, but I do think that having specific goals or objectives are remarkably helpful. I’ve met a lot of people who seem to have some vague sense of what they’d like out of life. I’m not saying you need a list that says you’d like to eat 1241 clams in your life (yes, I know that was random - bear with me), but it doesn’t hurt to know precisely what you’re striving for so, at the very least, you can know if you ever reach it. I know, for example, that part of my plan is to write a novel based on my grandpa’s war letters. Because I know that, I’m taking small steps to move towards that goal since I don’t want to have to live with the regret of not chasing that specific goal.
Don’t take yourself too seriously. I am ridiculous, and I know that. Knowing that helps me laugh at myself, and helps enable me to do the things that I might otherwise be too embarrassed to do. Is it absurd to basically write a mini-novel about your reflections on life after 31 years? Yup, maybe, but who the hell cares? This is just what I do, and I’m not going to stop anytime soon. I don’t want my life to be a damn Clearasil ad (“clean, clear and under control”), so I’m just going to lean into the fun and messiness and, as I said earlier, apologize to absolutely nobody for that approach.
The little things are the big things. I first began to understand this when I began my love affair of the writing of Kurt Vonnegut in my early 20s. In about a million different ways, he communicated that it’s the minutia of life that makes it worth living. It’s not the brand new car that you’ll forever remember, it’s driving it home with your partner when a bird poops on it, and you laugh and touch hands and realize you have each other.
I still don’t know whether I wrote this for myself right now, or for my future self, or for others. But I’m happy I wrote it.
I hope that perhaps some of what I’ve shared will connect with you, wherever you are on this journey.
I sat down this morning with hopes that I may be able write a couple of things down and the words, as you can see, poured out of my fingers.
In the end, perhaps all I can strive for is to be the the kind of person where, if you think of my name, you’re more likely to smile than frown. That would mean more to me than I could say.
This is an intense moment in time. A moment where one can’t help but be at least somewhat swept away in a sea of unpredictability.
It is my hope that perhaps my musings on what I’ve learned from many yesterdays might, in some small way, better help you and I face many tomorrows.
