On grace

I once met a woman more beautiful than most.

She was wildflowers, she was original hardwood worn smooth throughout the home; she was a cup of hot coffee on the back porch. She was the gentle lapping of the late summer lake against the grass of a twilight shore. She was a finger-painted self-portrait of her son framed high on the living room wall. She was laughter, very real and all her own, made coarse over her years of sharing it. She was patience, she was kindness; she gave more than she ever had.

She would sit beside you on the porch in silence, and she would share the moment with you as it stretched forward, content in simply knowing that you’re doing just fine today. Her greatest treasures were photo albums, bronzed baby shoes and whatever you were sharing.

And when I think of how life is best spent lived, I think of her – the ease in which she found contentment in the everyday, and the ease in which we all were drew to her. She embodied happiness and contentment in a way that escapes most of us, and she did it without nice cars or new clothes or any house other than the one she walked into as a young bride. She was, right down to her core, genuinely content with what she had.

And when I think of her, I also think of the day when what seemed like half the world gathered in a church too small to hold the places in our hearts for her. The stories of her poured out from under the eaves of childhood homes and unfolded from between the pages of old hardcover yearbooks and came unrooted from the summers spent running barefoot in the grass. Stories of first loves that never faded and of long talks at a kitchen table; stories of kind words and comfort, of salvation from a world that otherwise seemed perhaps a bit too harsh. Stories of broken hearts but memories more beautiful, about a woman with more grace than most.

And I think we all left that church vowing to embody a bit of her spirit in our own lives. I often remind myself to exercise the choice of happiness and I try to think of small things I might do every day to add a little more sunlight to somebody else’s. I harbor a sentiment that the shoes and the skirts and the books and the toys don't mean anything in my ability to live that lifestyle. It certainly doesn’t come naturally to me – it doesn’t come as naturally to anybody, I think, as it did for her – but I believe we could all benefit from being a little more "Marion." And be a bit happier, a bit brighter, a bit lighter on our feet with each day we keep that simplicity and grace in mind.

What you touch

We all strive toward something, and when our lives are over, we all leave footprints behind. These are achieved through our value system and the ideals that we spend our lives pursuing. What impact do you want to have on the world around you, and to what extent? What do you want to leave behind, what differences do you want to have made during your life, and in what realm?

So, how do you want to be remembered?

Mind – increase knowledge

Body – improve fitness, health, or physical well-being

Environment – promote responsibility, awareness or discovery

Possessions – advise on simplicity and savings, or create cool things

Beauty – design art, music, fashion, etc.

Morality – fight for justice, honesty

Amusement – provide entertainment, laughter, escapes

Compassion – love others

Spirituality – spread faith

Something else?

Many people have more than one. Maybe all of them interest you, on some level. The trick is to identify the top one(s) that grip our hearts. And, in doing so, position ourselves to pursue them.

Something to bear in mind, of course, is that the pursuit of these values comes in many forms: valuing beauty, for example, can entail being either the model or the designer, an artist or a gallery owner, an esthetician or a musician. You can strive to be the next Vera Wang or you can cross stitch gifts for your family. The same goes for all of the values.

So under which value, and to what extent on the scale, do you fall?

What motivates you?

Not everyone is motivated by money. Many of us are – I am, to some extent, though it is by no means my primary motivator – but many of us also have supplementary or even stronger motivators besides our paycheck. Motivators can take all kinds of forms, and if we don’t take the time to figure out our unique combination is, we may end up unhappy without knowing why.

Why compels you to get out of bed each day? What’s your reward for working? Why do you work?

Popular motivators include:

Money

Fame

Power

Autonomy

Competence

Charity

Change

Order

Clarity

Harmony

Prestige

Recognition

Security

Novelty

Challenging

Leisure

Revenge?

Jot down some of the things that speak to you. They may be on this list, or they may be other things.

Also jot down the things that do not motivate you.

(For example, despite having a public blog, I am not very motivated by notions of fame. I’m also not motivated by power, security, or prestige. My biggest motivators are autonomy, competence, creating change, intellectual challenges and, lastly, money. I see money, however, as resource to use in seeking the first four.)

What about you?

Write them down. Revisit them often. Keep them fresh in your mind.

That way, you can identify career opportunities that are closely associated with them. 

And avoid those that aren’t.

It may also answer questions that may otherwise be confusing, like why one job makes you unhappy but another doesn't. Some of my favorite jobs were the ones I made the least amount of money but a could exercise a bit of autonomy. In the one where I was rather miserable, I was tucked away in a windowless room, but making about five times as much.

Knowing what rewards motivate us helps us make better decisions about designing our lifestyles, and ensures that those lifestyle choices will be more satisfying in the long run.

Go with your gut

Our intuition is a funny thing. Always present, always rumbling and processing, but often disregarded in our preference of logic. Many things in life are, of course, best addressed with logic – you wouldn’t necessary want to pull the trigger on a luxury vehicle just because it makes you weak in the knees. But the further we go in life and the more rational judgment we’ve accumulated, the more reliable our intuition becomes and the more it behooves us to listen to it.

When searching for my current apartment, I had very specific metrics that I was using to sift through all the units on the market. First, I wanted to live within 10 blocks of where I work, so that I could get rid of my car and have a more urban lifestyle. Second, I had (have) a strict budget, and my portion of the monthly rent had to fit within that number. With those two metrics in mind, I went hunting. I visited about half a dozen apartments downtown, and they all seemed of about the same caliber to me. Many of them were “loft” style, with partial walls, no bedroom doors, and low-budget finishes (I said I didn’t care.) And while any of them would have worked, none of them struck me as “the one.” When I walked into the unit I now live in, I immediately felt differently. There was a an immediate warm fuzzy feeling about the building, the unit (despite the fact that the current tenant was sitting, inexplicably, in the kitchen while we walked through) and I knew I had to have it. Without even having roommates lined up, I put the entire deposit down for a three-bedroom apartment. I found the roommates by the time I moved in.

And you know what? I absolutely love my apartment. I come home every day feeling as though it’s “home,” and that’s something I never had with other apartments before it – including the one bedroom with more square footage, in sprawling hardwood, and granite countertops. Granite countertops, I now know, make me less happy than convenient location.

One study asked participants to choose a poster. The first group was asked to choose the first one they initially liked. The second group was asked to analyze their decision before choosing. Weeks later, the first group reported more satisfaction with their choices.

Now, not all decisions can be made this way. Especially when we’re young, we simply don’t have the foundation on which to base these sort of things. (“How am I supposed to know which poster/car/lawn mower/pair of professional shoes I should pick?! I’ve never done this before!”) So you do it with some analysis and research the first few times, especially if you’re not tugged in any one direction. But at some point, when you get that reactionary surge of unarticulated-but-significant feelings, you listen to them.

They’re often trying to tell you something that you don’t know you know.

Get a real job

And by that I mean: one you actually enjoy.

I find it deeply distressing that some people, when asked what they want to do with their lives, respond:

“I don’t care. I just want a job.”

For me, my heart aches a bit for them every time I hear people say this. I can’t help but want to take them by the shoulder, sit them down, get a drink together and talk it over. I want to lean across the table, braced on my elbows, and tell it to them straight: you’re going about this the wrong way!

You cannot go through life like that, pretending that you have only basic needs. You yearn for more than a paycheck. We both know that. Don’t sell yourself short and carry on this charade of not caring about what you’re going to do for a living. When you wake up in the morning, put your pants on, and walk out the door for work, you will care where you’re going. And your mental well-being will depend on how you feel about that destination.

Getting a job is like dating – how successful do you think we’d be if we approached our love lives like that, telling people, “hi, I’m single and I want to date. I don’t care who I date, I just want a girlfriend.”

In my guestimation, I don't think we'd get too far with a strategy like that. Do you?  

Maybe that sort of mindset works in high school – when our universe revolves around insecurities and lack of self-awareness – but it doesn’t work when you’re dating as an adult. And it definitely doesn’t work for your adult job search, either. Going about it like that, all you will land is the exact type of employer who, in turn, doesn’t care too much about who they hire – and will regard you with the same level of concern once you’re there.

Come now. When we search for spouses, don’t most of us consider who we are as individuals, what we want in life, and who we want as life partners? We don’t just fling ourselves at members of the opposite sex and exclaim, “you are a man! Marry me so I can procreate!”

And think of the marriages you’ve seen. Wouldn’t you agree that the successful relationships were established – or at least maintained – with a bit of consciousness? These things don’t just happen. It’s by design and effort.

And so it is with our careers. Rather than spending one more month trolling the job sites and hurling resumes at potential employers, take 30 days to think about who you are, your skill set, what motivates you, your passions. Don’t you suppose that, when driving to Tallahassee, it’s worth taking the extra 15 minutes to write down some directions rather than just hopping into your Grand Am and hoping for the best? It’s the same with your job. Too many of us are hitting dead ends and making U-turns and running on empty because we’re too reluctant to stop and think about where it is we’re actually going. (“I don’t care! Anywhere but here!”)

And when you’ve paused to sort things out a bit and ultimately do get an interview, there’s so much more mutual certainty and satisfaction – when you pursue a specific position that you genuinely want, it shows. There’s a warm fuzzy feeling between interviewer and interviewee – things just click.

And then it’s not just a paycheck. It becomes real.

Don't check out

There’s a reason this content doesn’t emphasize goals of “retiring young” or “working less than six hours per week.” I see all kinds of personal finance and self-help resources that promote those sort of ambitions, and while I agree that there’s value in pursuing them, I also can’t help but think: okay, we could do that. But then what?

We as people are programmed to do things – not just superfluous activity, but things with meaning and direction. Research increasingly suggests that one of the critical building blocks of happiness is feeling that you have a purpose, and that your day to day activities contribute to that purpose in an important way. (A recent study indicated that, above the paycheck and even the colleagues, people are happiest when they feel that what they do for a living is important.)

Turns out, a lot of people who enter into retirement – early or otherwise – or secure for themselves a workweek of a mere few hours later experience pangs of restlessness, confusion, or indirection. Even a loss of identity is at stake, given that throughout adulthood, we often identify ourselves by our answer to the question, "So. What do you do?" And so when the answer is, "frankly, nothing," it makes us a little squeamish.

But “don’t worry,” the author of one such self-help book soothes: “this sort of reaction is normal after you stop working full-time. You’re just learning to readjust to all the freedom.”

I disagree.

I think the human mind, being as complex and highly-capable as it is, is programmed for purpose. While many of us think we would thrive waking up every day in state of absolute leisure, with each day unfolding slowly while we nap in a hammock, the reality is that a great deal of our sense of fulfillment is derived from our contribution to the world around us.

We are social beings, and, regardless of the jokes we make about camping on a beach for the rest of our lives or catching and releasing fish every day, part of our psyche was developed by our interactions with society, and that same part draws a sense of gratification from giving back to it in a bigger capacity than doing donuts on the golf course greens.

I know that right now you might be thinking: nah, I’d still want to golf and nap all day.

Thanks but no thanks on that whole “having a purpose” offer.

But throughout history, we’ve seen countless people swear up and down that all they want to do is check out – to consume leisure time, without giving anything of value back – who end up breaking down and trekking it back to the real world. (Even Thoreau tucked himself away in a forest for several years only to end up writing books – for people in general, about how much he disliked people in general – and help define a new philosophy.)

And so, don’t check out. Retire early, if that’s what suits you. Make a billion dollars, too, if that’s you’re thing. And only work for a few minutes a week, if that’s enough. But we should also find something that we’re passionate about and deeply want to contribute to. And when we have the freedom to do whatever we want, we should do something that means a lot to us.

Stay away from Target

Yea, I can get on my soapbox and talk about all the virtues of simplicity, and it's certainly something worth aspiring toward - after all, it's a big component of my message here. But let’s be honest here: we all have a little soft spot for Target.

When I moved into an apartment downtown and got rid of my car, my primary concern, before even finding a grocery store to buy the food with which to feed myself, was what on Earth I was going to do when I needed to go to Target. After a moderate amount of hand-wringing, I finally decided I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.

And guess what?
I never got to it.

Turns out, it’s pretty rare that we actually need anything from Target. You need bathroom cleaner and mascara? RiteAid. A shower curtain? Ross. Novelty socks? ….you shouldn’t be buying those anyway. So, in the end, it’s pretty easy to make do without Target.

And yet still, when I walked into Target last weekend, I realized that even after months of Target celibacy, I still feel my heart immediately seize up into my throat, my body moving without conscious effort toward the stack of baskets (I’m far too cool for the push-buggy) - the onset of that overwhelming but oh-so-familiar ritual necessitated by the store.

Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder.

Upon walking in, I have to immediately divert my line of vision from the grandiose display in front of me - a frenzy of colors and patterns so perfectly coordinated, they'd surely make any apartment look like a showroom - to the linoleum floor. I force myself to look away even before I’ve actually looked, just like some perfectly nice guy who, while walking with his wife, suddenly finds himself dangerously close to the annual charity car wash put on by the world’s hottest sorority girls.

You don’t even have to look and you’re already in trouble.

But it’s with a certain excitement that I saunter in, basket hooked over my arm like a designer bag.
Those tile floors, the wide aisles. This place is built for me to blow my paycheck.
Look at all this great stuff I’ve been missing out on!
Picture frames made out of bamboo and shoes for $20?
They’re the exact same concepts as last season!

Striped throw pillows that match drink coasters I’ll never use?!

That’s so unnecessary.

I need them.

And then the cosmetics, the accessories, the snacks… ($2 for cheese doodles?! It’d just be stupid not to get those!) Might as well get a water while I’m at it. And would you look at all these nail polish colors! You can never have too many nail polish colors. I need toilet bowl cleaner. My feet are dry. My dog loves getting new collars!

And half a day later, I’m walking out of the place with my head held high, the proud owner of a snazzy new polka dot lamp, boysenberry shea butter lip balm, and, of course, the Q-tips I originally went in for.

I call it “The Target Effect.”

I know I’m not the only one this happens to.

Let’s do ourselves a favor, shall we, and all stay away from Target.

I can assure you, from years of experience spending an embarrassing amount of money there, it isn't the gateway to happiness. You come home and feel pretty good about the whole thing - after all, you did get those cheese doodles for $2 - but at the end of the day, the whole ordeal just sort of feels empty, doesn't it?

After my last attempt to enter Target, I rushed right back out less than 10 minutes later. The Target Effect is a powerful thing - right up there with gravity and infatuation - and, as such, is better left alone altogether than confronted. I think we can all admit that our hundred dollars is better spent elsewhere; after all, can you honestly name one thing you bought at Target that still makes you glow with happiness?

Yea.
That's what I thought.
Me neither.

And all we have to show for it is a bathroom cabinet full of half-used product and a lamp that doesn't match the rest of our room.