One of the best parts of going to the gym each day is that I get to go with Molly. Traveling to town together, we have lots of time to talk. She will be leaving for college in about a month, so these are precious days. I happen to love working out, but it's even better when that involves time with Molly.
Without even trying, we often stumble on some great conversations. Today, we talked about some different ways to approach life. We didn't name names (we didn't really need to do that), but I could see myself clearly in one specific approach - and I could clearly see Molly in the other approach. And I'll give you the conclusion at the very start: Molly's approach is the best one. In fact, I am so drawn to it that I'm wondering if it's too late to make some big changes in my own life.
Here's the first approach. Find a few things that you're good at in life and devote your whole life to those things. There's nothing really wrong with this, of course. It's a way of playing to your strengths. This approach values competence, proficiency, and excellence. The corresponding flipside, though, is that new challenges are often avoided. After all, if you're not already good at something, you'd probably not be interested in giving something new a try. That might lead to failure or embarrassment - and that's to be avoided at all cost.
As we talked about living that way, I had to admit that I've basically lived that kind of life. Thankfully, I discovered early on a few things that I could do well - and those few things became the focus of my life. Again, there's probably nothing wrong with living that way. Except for this: since we can't be good at everything, there are many experiences that we will never have. If I'm devoted to the few things that I'm good at . . . then so many other things get left out.
The second approach is quite a bit different. In this approach, you obviously use your strengths - but you are also always on the lookout for new opportunities and new experiences. Failure and embarrassment aren't that big a deal; what matters is being stretched. What matters is trying and learning and growing. Maybe competence won't even be achieved, but new experiences can still be joyful, joy-filled encounters. Rather than saying, "I can't do that," someone living with this approach will say instead, "Wow, I've never tried that before! Sign me up!"
And thinking about that way of living, I realized that Molly has always lived exactly that way. She has some incredible strengths, but she has never let those strengths limit her options. And she's using these college years for that specific purpose: to stretch and grow and try. The goal isn't perfection or competence; the goal is life.
Now, I've already told you that I think the second approach is probably better. And I also suspect that it's easier to take that approach if you're eighteen years old.
Beyond that, what I'm wondering about today is if people can change their approach . . . even a little. Surely, that has to be possible. And frankly, it sounds like a great idea. For me. And for most of us.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not planning on riding a bike across the country or learning how to jump out of airplanes. But I am interesting in taking some phrases out of my common vocabulary. For example, I'd like to stop saying, "I can't do that." Or "I'm not good at that."
Maybe it's worth something just to try. Maybe it's good to stop being defined by what other people say about us - or by what we say about ourselves.
And maybe - just maybe - we shouldn't leave that kind of living to the eighteen-year-olds.