what exactly are you trying to get out of all this?

on stoicism vs. living richly

"Los Angeles With Golden Skyline" by M Bleichner

There are few things I love more than a late night balcony conversation with a close friend. This was a particularly good one.

Gazing out past the LA skyline, my friend asked me, “So what do you want out of life? What exactly are you trying to get out of all this?”

I spiritedly expressed that I want to experience everything life has to offer. Love, heartbreak, joy, grief ― I want it all. To live richly with the limited time I have on this earth without regret, so I can look back on a life truly well-lived.

Living in this attached way naturally attracts joy through love and connection, but it also carries with it the inevitable pain of loss through death and endings. Nothing lasts forever. And the stronger the attachment, the deeper the eventual pain. 

But to me, that pain is simply a reflection of how deeply I cared for someone or something. Proof that I bared my soul for something worth risking it all for. Better still, experiencing crushing grief has always pushed me to truly soak in the overflowing beauty in my life. Being gutted opens you up to a liminal space ― a world of possibility.

My friend, on the other hand, approaches life with a heavy dose of stoicism. He draws deep fulfillment from his main creative passion, so he almost single-mindedly pours himself into his craft day in and day out while rarely straying far from a steady baseline.

Because his art represents his main purpose, he broadly views emotional risk and excitement as distractions from his most meaningful goals.

Though it opposes my philosophy on the surface, my friend’s “never too high, never too low” mantra is an equally valid one. In fact, it’s an incredibly powerful place to be. It ensures inward stability in the face of outward disarray as well as freedom from nonessential attachments. So while my strength comes from vulnerability and openness, his comes from stoicism and steadiness.

In reality, we’re really not all that different. We both value quality time with good friends. We both value equanimity over reactivity in the face of uncertainty. We both operate with true fulfillment in mind and think intentionally about how each decision may enrich or detract from our lives. And given the context, we might even flip our approaches to meet the occasion.

More often than not, though, I’m opting into the fullness of life, while others may take the steadfast road. And that’s perfectly fine ― there truly isn’t an objectively correct way to live life. 

So if life is a game, I hope we all continually examine why we’re playing. However you derive meaning from this beautiful, chaotic existence, I hope you do whatever’s right for you.