how alain de botton has changed how I think about life--and writing
Here is a small but nonetheless profound thing that has happened in my life in the past month or so: the work of Alain de Botton has altered my perspective forever.
I’ve started thinking about my life differently. Which of course means that I’ve started thinking about my writing differently, too.
I’ve realised that I’ve been lugging around the sincere and rather burdensome idea that I have to be exceptional in order to be worthy of a place on Earth. (Even as I type this, I’m thinking, Of course I want to be exceptional! Doesn’t everyone??)
The truth is, I still want to be exceptional. Desperately. And this is not necessarily a bad thing.
Having the belief that being exceptional = being loved and valued usually means you put effort into everything you take on. You strive to do excellent work. You think about your actions, your choices, your trajectory.
These are all good things.
Except, of course, when they’re not. Except when they stop you from working in the first place because the inner pressure to work well, to work perfectly, is so overwhelming. Except when, for whatever reason, you fail to be exceptional at something, and consequently feel that the world is ending. Ending.
Except then.
I particularly love de Botton’s work because of its gentleness and balance. And I’ve found that, as I’ve absorbed it, I’ve also absorbed some of its tone. Its calm.
I’m learning to rest in the belief that, actually, what you need to do in order to qualify for a place on Earth is exist. The breath in your lungs is enough. And, while it’s wonderful to strive to be the best at something, that is not all there is.
Sometimes there is only breath, only one word after the other and all the uncertainty that brings.
Sometimes there is only what we have now—and now, and now, and now.
And maybe your job isn’t to be the best at something.
Maybe your job is simply to be you.
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