There is irony in that I frame the title of this post in a way that implies that the good life must be chased. Many may suppose that authentic “goodness” in life should come naturally: the experiences we pick up, the relationships we establish, and the memories we craft should all come naturally to us. That said, a certain interpretation of life is required to understand such a framework. I generally interpret the purpose of life as trying to fill up a blank canvas with as many expressive colors, patterns, and textures as possible. In this regard, without a deliberate effort on your end to pick up these diverse experiences, you fail to fully absorb “goodness” in life. And so perhaps, the good life is simply a destination and that the actual “goodness” comes from the pursuit––the endless chase that may seem pointless at first but ultimately creates complex beauty on the canvas. Therefore, even if “pursuit” or the word choice of “chase” may imply a sense of restriction, there are a plethora of opportunities to embrace the mundane elements of life that we often overlook. The beautiful amalgamation of these little aspects of our life ultimately make this “pursuit” worthwhile. More importantly, such wording does not mean that we will frame the good life as only an act of “pursuing” something. By proactively engaging in this act of pursuit, we ultimately fall in love with the smaller pit stops of our journey that we begin to live the good life rather than constantly chasing the good life. Sometimes we do not even notice the vital transition from chasing to living life until our day-to-day moments come to an end. The earlier we recognize that simply living life is a prerequisite for chasing the good life, the more we learn and benefit from our time in this world.
Failing to pursue “goodness” can greatly limit our perspectives on the world. Refusing to undergo new experiences or exit your comfort zone may provide an artificial sense of living a good life but will never allow you to reach true happiness. Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” perceptively captures the dangers of ignorance and threats associated with simply living life without the pursuit. The prisoners in Plato’s allegory are those who aspire to live the good life but fail to act on such a goal. Instead of adopting an open-minded attitude and exploring the nuances of reality, these prisoners “believe that truth is nothing other than the shadows of those artifacts.” Going beyond the mere shadows takes external efforts beyond simply living life in its most natural form. Instead, a deliberate effort to pursue a goal (in this case, “goodness”) is required to reap the most happiness.
This would be a good opportunity to discuss the parameters within happiness. What exactly are the standards or elements that enhance happiness in our daily lives? Do all forms of happiness exert positive emotions? Or do negative emotions further accentuate happiness? Sticking with the framework that living a good life is about experiencing the diverse permutations of life, negative emotions and discomfort are crucial and even necessary to a large extent. If achieving happiness and living a good life was solely based on positive experiences, we would be mirroring the values of the blinded prisoners who bind themselves to a false projection of the world. If we develop a mindset to frame negative experiences as a learning moment or part of growth, our canvas will have an added layer of depth. These negative experiences clearly help us define happiness and make the positive moments even better due to our sense of relativity. Thus, to find a balance between these positive and negative experiences, one must be ready to improve and grow. If one undergoes a positive experience, they must continue to maintain such positivity while preparing themselves for negative moments. If one undergoes a negative experience, they must recognize their shortcomings and optimistically construct solutions to prevent such instances. Living the good life is an intricate process that requires one to embrace adaptability and versatility.
The Greek philosopher Epicurus shared similar views of living a good life as he emphasized the long-term aspect of a journey and the importance of adapting to certain circumstances to make the most out of an experience. Despite the various challenges we face, Epicurus emphasized the value behind trying to “make the latter part of the journey better than the first, so long as we are en route.” In other words, regardless of what happened before, continue to add layers on the canvas. If a mess is made on our metaphorical canvas, don’t start from scratch or grab a new canvas. Make an even greater mess to make your canvas more interesting. Throw in more colors. Throw in more textures. Throw in more patterns. Fuel the chaos. As long as we continue to pursue “goodness” in life (i.e., as long as we are en route), chaos will open up dimensions that we were unable to access when we were prisoners. Epicurus concludes that when we arrive at our final destination, “we must [...] remain cheerful,” highlighting once more that we cannot settle with our experiences. Epicurus underlines the importance of continuous development in our lives. Always remaining cheerful is a challenging task but adopting Epicurus's mindset allows us to courageously venture into new territories rather than settling with our experiences. If the canvas itself begins to fill up, paint the edges and the corners. If the edges and corners become too vibrant, paint over the original colors on the canvas. There is no distinct stopping point to our experiences. And knowing when experiences will stop is not for us to judge. Living a good life for us means embracing the variety of opportunities life offers, so that when that stopping point does eventually come, we can drift away from this world in satisfaction. My personal experiences have also shown me that these negative experiences or setbacks make the next success feel even greater. If all I underwent were positive experiences, I would be unable to tell what true happiness feels like. I would be an emotional prisoner, trapped in a cyclical pattern that keeps me in the dark. Therefore, as Epicurus encourages us to do, I do not stay stuck in the past but use previous experiences as a foundation to build new moments. I continue to look for new, exciting colors to add to the existing chaos.
This is perhaps why embracing the journey can be more rewarding than actually achieving the goal that we endlessly pursue. Hitting our goals can be depressing. We often have no idea what to expect when we reach a goal and once we actually achieve said goal, we feel an unexpected emptiness. I’ve had plenty of experiences where I mindlessly chased a goal and when I actually arrived at the destination, I felt incredibly lost and more internally frustrated than when I started the journey. It’s a baffling and miserable thought that the goal that we tirelessly chase is not as pleasant as expected. Instead, the aforementioned act of building new moments has to do with proactively living in the present moment or adopting the “flow” stage as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi elaborates in his book about cultivating optimal experiences to maximize happiness.
The German philosopher Nietzsche also aligned himself with the values of progress and gradual learning processes. In the case of love, Nietzsche noted that happiness stems from the fact that “love, too, has to be learned.” Understandably, love is not a linear journey. Even beyond the romantic element of love, becoming attached to a person, thing, or idea is a learning process. I often find that the more challenges and obstacles there are, the stronger the relationship or connection with something. Returning to our canvas analogy, merely using bright, positive colors can only produce a limited sense of chaotic beauty. The use of darker shade and unconventional painting techniques instantly tell a more intriguing story.
There are multiple examples in history that showcase how people find virtue in hiccups and setbacks. The construction of the Hoosac tunnel is one that comes to mind. In the 1860s, construction firms began working on a railway track that would bridge sections of Massachusetts to the Hudson River. The building process required digging through the Hoosac Mountain, a massive barrier running alongside the northern side of the Hudson. The head architect of the project estimated that drilling through the Hoosac would require approximately four million dollars which was fairly reasonable. Several other construction experts agreed that the drilling project would be easy.
Not a single person turned out to be correct. The decision to drill through Hoosac was a big mistake. The project ultimately cost more than six times the initial calculation. Even more seriously, the 1867 Hoosac Tunnel incident also led to the loss of multiple lives. If all the experts knew how difficult the drilling initiative would actually be, they would never have agreed to continue with the railroad. But, if they had not, the industries in Boston and its surrounding regions would not have advanced as effectively and the state’s economy would have dramatically declined in general. So was limited knowledge a barrier to improvement or a necessary prerequisite for it?
Economist Albert Hirschman struggled with the same complex question when he came up with “The Hiding Hand” principle. According to Hirschman, people don’t necessarily put themselves out there in search of challenges. Rather they frequently stumble into new opportunities thinking that something will not be as challenging. For a reason that I cannot quite explain, a task often seems more possible than it will actually turn out to be. For example, those in the realm of entrepreneurship take risks on a daily basis but do not categorize themselves as risk-takers. They deliberately trick themselves into thinking that their nature of starting a business with no concrete evidence of success has nothing to do with taking risks. Then, at some point deep into their endeavor, they come face to face with reality. Having gone too deep already, they have nothing else to do but to finish the ride. There is too much chaos to simply stop and start anew.
I have also had several of these experiences where I have failed in a successful way. Failing to obtain a certain goal in life can be incredibly miserable and negatively impact your mental health. That said, as illustrated by the Hoosac Tunnel example, sometimes these setbacks can help us find happiness in unforeseen ways. We often portray failing as a step backwards or an interference to our overarching goals. That said, we can choose to fail forward. Failing forward is about looking beyond the emotional challenges and extracting the positives from what may seem like a negative experience. As a Catholic, my religious beliefs may also have contributed to my philosophy. Placing faith in a higher being, I have always believed in the idea that everything in life happens for a reason according to God’s plan. In this regard, I can fail forward and frame my setbacks as another step in the long-term process.
As an attempt to amplify my interpretation of living a good life and summarize some of my previous points about happiness, I decided to add some creativity and construct a poem about beginning again after failures and the process of gradual learning in the sense of love. I find that poetry is often the most accurate representation of my reflective thoughts, and I found that crafting this piece greatly helped me digest my initial framework of living vs. chasing the good life through a creative lens.
i sometimes want to ask myself when
i feel like giving up: why do i continue when i
could let it go? why do i pursue something so abstract? so unrealistic?
Maybe i need some rest. But when i woke
up from that drawn-out dream, nothing really changed. Maybe it’s Maria. She
left me on my own. Maybe it’s the pouring rain. Or, is
it the soggy sour scones i ate? i try again to take a
nap but i chuckle like a fool––nothing’s funny
but my body tells me to laugh. Soon, the creature
comes to steal my soul and
put my mind to rest. At least I stop guffawing, and my life begins in earnest.
I can’t go a day without your smile
Without calling you and hearing your voice
Because losing you isn’t worthwhile
But that day will one day arrive; meanwhile,
I, I sink and suffer. without a choice.
I can’t go a day without your smile
Losing you again––it’s a lifestyle.
When you leave my side, now I rejoice
But losing you is never worthwhile
Your old shirt sits on my laundry pile
And my teardrops stain your sweatpants. Maria,
I can’t go a day without your smile
I go to bed and wake up in an isle
And I lose you again, stripped of my joys
Because losing you isn’t worthwhile
I miss you but will wait for a while.
I wish I could tell you about the boys.
And losing you again isn’t worthwhile.
I can’t go a day without your smile.
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