I watched a rather interested movie the other day on the recommendation of a friend. It was called Peaceful Warrior and it was inspired by true events in the life of Dan Millman, a university student and locally famous gymnast who dreams of winning an Olympic Games competition. It’s easy to finish the movie and feel that the whole thing was rather campy. However, there were enough thoughtful insights for those of us restless souls that I believe it’s truly worth watching. The premise of the movie is that Dan believes that a relentless focus on the goal of being in the Olympics can both be achieved through sheer desire and would finally allow him the level of happiness that he currently lives without. That’s what’s so interesting about the movie. We all think this way.
We’ve been taught to believe that life is about achieving goals. That without goals you’re a rudderless ship. That through sheer determination and hard work you can accomplish your goals and if you do accomplish your goals you’ll be all the better for it.
That’s only partly true. I’ll rely on some tidbits from the movie that have caused me to spend time thinking about the way I think. Do I “think right”? Are my perspectives on goals and achievement full of merit? Or, are there flaws?
I remember thinking at age 10 that if I only had $100,000 I’d be so happy. I could buy all the toys I wanted, I could go places, see things and enjoy the good life. I don’t know where I came up with this figure or even why I thought it. But I did and to this day I remember exactly what I was doing, where I was standing and the way I felt when I imagined achieving my goal. At age 10, $100,000 was a lofty stretch and it would surely buy every matchbox toy, every big wheel and every new Atari game that I could imagine ever wanting.
At least a few times per year I remember that day. Usually, the recollection comes to mind when I’m having a similar moment in time around some new, more lofty goal. “If I could only get another start-up funded I’d be so happy!” “If I could get to a place where I had a flat in Paris and an apartment in New York I’d settle down and finally enjoy life.”
To this day, most people who know me well would call me a worrier. I deliberate. I contemplate. I consider. I fret. I agonize. I push, push, push. I certainly didn’t find absolute satisfaction achieving the goal I’d set back at age 10.
I may well be some kind of warrior but I’m by no means peaceful. In part that’s because I’ve been thinking that we’re supposed to pay our dues now and bask in the glory later.
Perhaps herein lies the flaw? In life, there is no start. There is no finish. There is only right now. Oh sure, there’s birth but you don’t control that. There’s death too, but we can prolong but not avoid it.
Remember Shawshank Redemption? Great movie. Get busy living or get busy dying.
Living is not about totally controlling our destiny. It’s about knowing that your destiny, in large part, is out of your control. I’m not saying this to sound preachy. I’m saying this to myself! Control, in fact, is probably the one thing that none of us will ever have. Studying hard, having a clear vision and working long hours certainly is important towards achieving goals but that isn’t control. Can we control that city bus swerving into our lane? Can we control whether investors will share our enthusiasm? Can we control all aspects of our health?
Get busy living or get busy dying…
Dan Millman’s mentor in the movie posits three rules to life:
1. Paradox: Life is a mystery; don’t bother trying to figure it out. Just live it.
2. Humor: No matter what the circumstances, do not lose your sense of humor, particularly about yourself.
3. Change: Change is a constant. Everything changes. Even what you think is important.
There’s a funny thing about worry. If you think about it, you tend to worry about what might happen in the future. Have you ever worried about this exact moment? It’s hard to do! Instead, you say things like “I’ve started this company. I wonder if people will really want what we’re building? Or, “We’ve got a presentation tomorrow but I’m not sure how the CEO is going to feel about our ideas.” It’s hard to worry about right now. “I’m lost in the woods at this moment. I wonder if I’ll find my way out?” Being lost in the woods isn’t what bothers us. The unknown about eventually finding our way out is far scarier. And that’s the crazy thing. We can take actions but we can never control the future. Nor the past. We can prepare but we can’t rewind. We can plan but we can’t issue absolute guarantees about the outcome.
Maybe this is why some wiser sage once said, live in the moment! Because, frankly, that matters a lot more than any other time. And I believe that’s true. In fact, in some small ways, I’ve experienced the value of focusing on the moment. Ever tried playing sports or a game like pool when you weren’t feeling particularly confident? It just doesn’t work. Athletes will often say they’re “in the zone” when everything just seems to flow effortlessly. I think all of us have had those moments in time but they don’t happen often enough. When everything just “clicks” we’ll also say it somehow felt like it wasn’t that much effort. When you’re having a bad game of pool, you can’t see a straight shot anywhere on the table even when everything is lined up for you. You still get can’t things to go straight. In my case, it’s usually because I’m thinking about something. It could be the day I had at work. Or, it could be that I’m in an unfamiliar place and I wonder what people will think if I miss a bunch of simple shots (which is usually what happens when you think that way). It could be because I’m worried about tomorrow. In any case, it’s admittedly because I’m not focused on the moment. But on your best days, when it seems like you can’t miss a shot, I find that I just wasn’t thinking about anything else. Focusing on the moment drives confidence - plain and simple.
There is no achievement that will bring absolute satisfaction. There is no goal that will make everything better. There is no way to give 100% without the ability to focus absolutely on the extraordinary moment.
Maybe it is all about the journey after all. Not the destination!