"The Good Life" Defined -- and Questioned
For the past six months, I've been working sporadically on this blog about The Good Life, but I've never tried to define what those two words mean. Leaving aside the question of faith and spirituality, I think there are nine essential aspects modern life: food, housing, employment, transportation, safety, health, relationships, recreation, and children.
Leading The Good Life, then, would mean striving to better each of those aspects. But how do we define better? Is a Mercedes S-Class the pinnacle of transportation goodness? Should I strive to be as fit as a marathon runner? Is it good to live to be 100?
I had an interesting talk with an academic the other day about "keeping your options open." This was a mantra for my friends and me growing up. It meant trying to get into the most selective college we could, and afterwards building the most impressive resumes possible -- all in order to leap on the best opportunity when it came along.
The interesting thing is that you'll never find a group more adept at envisioning the future than the "keep your options open" crowd. We have a 5 year plan. We have a 10 year plan. We have a 25 and 30 year plan. Sometimes I feel like I'm planning so far ahead that my kids are already in high school. And I barely got a chance to know them.
I would argue that, if you can so easily envision your life in 10-15 years, you aren't really keeping your options open. You're taking a prescribed path. You've been seduced by the Good Life as defined in the advertisements found in the back pages of your alumni magazine. Which I'll admit looks tempting. But there are many ways to live, and many ways to live well.
I flirted with one alternative way of living when I tried to make it as a professional folk musician. It was a hoot. I was making my own way, with no idea what the future held. Maybe I'd get a record deal. Maybe I'd write a hit song and move to Nashville. Maybe I'd become a wizened old bluesman.
And was I living well? No doubt. My work was my play. I had dozens of friends. I wasn't going to live to be 100 eating all that bar food, but it sure tasted good.
But after four years I hung it up. I didn't want to have a hole in my resume. I wanted to keep a clear path open to having that perfect summer cottage in the Berkshires.
Now folks, I'm not ungrateful for what I've got. Lord knows I am rich in many things, particularly meat. But I am going to exercise a greater appreciation for alternative ways of living well. The next time I'm in the middle of a huge Boston traffic jam trying to find the best lane, I'm going to envision my life as beekeeper.
Leading The Good Life, then, would mean striving to better each of those aspects. But how do we define better? Is a Mercedes S-Class the pinnacle of transportation goodness? Should I strive to be as fit as a marathon runner? Is it good to live to be 100?
I had an interesting talk with an academic the other day about "keeping your options open." This was a mantra for my friends and me growing up. It meant trying to get into the most selective college we could, and afterwards building the most impressive resumes possible -- all in order to leap on the best opportunity when it came along.
The interesting thing is that you'll never find a group more adept at envisioning the future than the "keep your options open" crowd. We have a 5 year plan. We have a 10 year plan. We have a 25 and 30 year plan. Sometimes I feel like I'm planning so far ahead that my kids are already in high school. And I barely got a chance to know them.
I would argue that, if you can so easily envision your life in 10-15 years, you aren't really keeping your options open. You're taking a prescribed path. You've been seduced by the Good Life as defined in the advertisements found in the back pages of your alumni magazine. Which I'll admit looks tempting. But there are many ways to live, and many ways to live well.
I flirted with one alternative way of living when I tried to make it as a professional folk musician. It was a hoot. I was making my own way, with no idea what the future held. Maybe I'd get a record deal. Maybe I'd write a hit song and move to Nashville. Maybe I'd become a wizened old bluesman.
And was I living well? No doubt. My work was my play. I had dozens of friends. I wasn't going to live to be 100 eating all that bar food, but it sure tasted good.
But after four years I hung it up. I didn't want to have a hole in my resume. I wanted to keep a clear path open to having that perfect summer cottage in the Berkshires.
Now folks, I'm not ungrateful for what I've got. Lord knows I am rich in many things, particularly meat. But I am going to exercise a greater appreciation for alternative ways of living well. The next time I'm in the middle of a huge Boston traffic jam trying to find the best lane, I'm going to envision my life as beekeeper.
posted by Porterman at 6:56 PM
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