With the new year upon us and new year’s resolutions kicking in–or fading away–I think it’s important to remind ourselves that there is usually a cost (or two or three) associated with making a commitment.
This is concept is commonly known as ‘the price you pay’ for making a certain choice: the freedom you give up to have romantic or sexual relationships with third parties when you decide to get engaged and get married to another person; the short term fun you may miss out on when you decide to pursue academic excellence and study for exams rather than party; the luxuries you may sacrifice now to achieve financial independence sooner rather than later.
In our excitement and/or hurry to make a commitment to another person, a particular goal, or a way of life (a spiritual practice or dietary choice), we may often be unaware of or minimize the costs associated with our Big Decision.
If we don’t fully calculate, itemize, consider, appreciate and acknowledge the sacrifices we’re going to make going down a particular path, we risk failing, becoming resentful of the things we ‘missed out on’, and we set ourselves up to be unhappy.
Some choices have tangible costs: we know we’re going to have to work hard for a long time to be a doctor or a lawyer; we know we’re going to have to exercise, practice, and eat right to be a world class athlete. Of course.
Some choices are less obvious with the tolls they exact. What does it cost a person to be a parent? The kid comes first most if not all of the time. You don’t sleep as much as you’d like for 18 years, maybe more. You worry. You plan and over-plan. You don’t buy the motorcycle; you buy orthodontics. You do your best, and you still never know if you’ve been a ‘good parent’.
That’s the trade-off. On the flip side, you get your child’s wide-eyed wonder for a few innocent Christmases, a full-hearted hug when they win the big game, and maybe the deepest ‘thank you’ of all time when they’re finally moving out–off to college or off to a new city with a new job.
As a writer, I know I’ve paid a price. My success, to the outside world, is probably difficult to measure. It sometimes is for me, too. I am never satisfied. I am never finished. Accolades are in the past. My work is ever present.
The little voice just behind my right ear whispers an idea for a story or a line for a song with diabolical frequency and glee, and I am grateful. I scribble down the idea, pour out the song lyric, note the dialogue that would go with the scene, remind myself of a topic I want to cover on this blog.
But the novel needs to be finished and the screenplay needs to be rewritten and the children’s book needs an illustrator and on and on and on. I do not have hobbies. I have few what I would call ‘outside interests’. Most of my focus is on Feeding the Beast: writing, so that I don’t go crazy, and so I honor my gift.
I do have something that resembles a personal life: I work to make time for my wife–and be present and attentive when I do. Not easy when a hologram-like scene plays out before your eyes: characters in a story blurting lines and rushing here and there, remnants of the day spent in front of the computer screen, creating. Or song lyrics that come to you in the shower, leaving you scrambling for a pen and paper, dripping wet in the living room.
My wife is patient when I am ‘a million miles away’, mentally.
My friends are far away, physically, and have their own lives with children and grandchildren. More than a few are retired. They ask me when I’ll retire. I tell them, Never. They ask how the writing is going. I am vague. They ask when I’ll visit. I am well-intentioned, but I am non-committal.
Why? Because I’ve already made a commitment, and I know the price I have to pay.
So assess what you’ve set out to do and make sure you know the price you’ll have to pay. It won’t make things any easier, but it will make them more acceptable.
- BGT
I’ve found that, with every major goal I have in mind or every change I consider making, I have to do sort of a cost/benefit analysis of it. It’s not because I’m particularly analytical in nature — it’s because I stay motivated only if I have a clear, tangible result to work towards. This is why things like a regular meditation practice (the benefits of which have not been particularly tangible for me) are difficult to stick to, whereas weight lifting, for example, has been easier (because I can look in the mirror and see the progress I’ve made).
Some things are no-brainers — going to college involves several years or more of hard work, but it’s a temporary effort that results in life-long benefits. In my opinion, though, hard work and sacrifice should be balanced with enjoyment of the process in the moment. If we don’t find any joy in the process then maybe it’s time to find another goal to work towards.
Life is difficult. The only thing you get to decide, at least to some extent, is what kind of difficulty you want. If you choose well, your life will be full of somewhat less bad problems. This may seem gloomy or pessimistic, but I see it as a challenge and an opportunity. Fight the good fight and take your happiness where you find it. We all pay the price one way or another. Old money values and priorities are a good guide, if you’re looking for one.
I have found happiness ( not pleasure, exactly, or the absence of irritations, but more quiet satisfaction) comes from seeing progress, especially progress in myself or that I have helped create. Because of this, the challenges or commitments I take on are worth the cost for me.
Those who do not commit to anything might seem blissful and carefree, but loneliness and not having a contribution or being productive is not something to envy.
Writer to writer — thank you. You captured my internal and external life beautifully.