the so-called lies of lifestyle design ( + the secret truth about tim ferriss)
A good post came out called The 3 Lies of Lifestyle Design (Why Tim Ferriss Is Making You Hate Your Life).
Reading it made me think
a) this blogger is absolutely right, and I could add some more thoughts as to why
and
b) Tim Ferriss is misunderstood.
Lifestyle design seems a predominantly male phenomenon wherein young twentysomethings automate and delegate and online-entrepreneur their way into the ranks of the “new wealth”, which is less about having money and more about having the time and freedom and mobility to do what you want, where you want, when you want. The possibilities are staggering. Yet this vision of a personally designed, unconventional life starts looking pretty much the same from designer to designer. You travel the world. You hang out on beaches. You engage in activities that may or may not involve hurling yourself from great heights. You pursue your own idiosyncratic, whimsical goals and interests.
Sounds great, I know.
Except.
When you look at it a little closer, this is another recipe – like, say, going to law school – for bright talented go-getting people who don’t know what to do with the rest of their lives. It’s also a recipe for disconnection, distraction and aimlessness, all of which serve as primary sources for human unhappiness.
The blogger points out that Ferriss himself has designed a life that doesn’t look anything like this.
“…Morning meditation, meet with people he advises, exercise, a bunch of hours of work in the afternoon, long, multiple-hour dinner with a couple glasses of wine and tons of friends.
He didn’t say fly to Thailand, bungee jump, swim with sharks, and then bang a tranny.”
I’ll take Tim’s “day in the life” any day, and this is why: although it might seem comparatively unglamorous, routine and structured, it is rich with meaningful, opiate-generating activities.
I’ve posted before about the difference between dopamine and opiate hits in the brain. Dopamine is the buzz, the thrill of the chase, the addict’s high, the cotton candy ride that doesn’t nourish or sustain you but leaves you wanting more. The brain releases dopamine to keep us motivated and in pursuit of whatever it is that we think we want. It’s a valuable brain chemical that — as we are wont to do — we tend to abuse. We love the hunt. But once the hunt is over, we activate a different part of the brain that knows whether or not a deep-seated need has been satisfied. If we have identified that need and fulfilled it, we experience the deep, rich, full, rooted, connected feelings that dopamine promises but never delivers.
Those feelings are produced by opiates.
Opiate-generating activities tend to involve grit, discipline, self-knowledge and effort.
You have to get off the couch, dig in deep, learn your soul and what matters to you, be vulnerable with someone, work at that relationship, go to the gym, master a new skill (pushing past all those awkward phases where you’re sucking at it, bored and uncomfortable). You have to put yourself in service to something bigger than yourself.
You have to confront your life. You have to move more deeply into it.
And that shit is hard.
Previously I wrote about the survival dance and the sacred dance: ideas taken from a book by Bill Plotkin. Essentially: we are all on a quest to find and develop our true gifts in a way that serves the world so that the world will ultimately (note the emphasis on ‘ultimately’) pay us to do what we were born to do. By serving the world, we also serve ourselves, and vice-versa. We and the world become one. This is our true work, our soul work, our sacred dance. It takes years, or decades, or even the length of an entire first adulthood to find it.
In order to develop the skills, abilities, maturity and wisdom to master your sacred dance, you have to figure out the survival dance. This is the first task of adulthood: to find a way to survive in the world. It usually means a paying job, or a career that you probably don’t love. It could also mean creating a marriage and a family and a home, or withdrawing to a monastery somewhere, or finding various kinds of patronage for your art (ie: “selling out”) as you develop your own unique voice on the side.
Once you’ve got the survival dance locked down, your soul starts to rattle around in its cage. (This is often known as the midlife crisis.) Now it’s time to figure out what you really want to do, what fulfills you, and how to make money doing that so you can do that all the time. A key criterion for this kind of work is that you are willing to do it without pay. In fact, you’re often required to, as you develop skills and credibility. You navigate toward that sweetspot where the needs of the world line up with the gifts of your soul.
Tim showed people one way to lock down the survival dance faster and sooner than is commonly done. If you want to go to Thailand, you should definitely go to Thailand (although you might not want to risk AIDS or support sex trafficking). But it might help to be very clear on your new quest (and you do have one):
To find your sacred dance.
To find the work you would do for free – because now you’re in the perfect position to do that, with time and money and an absence of responsibility you’ll probably never have again in your life.
You know how to survive in the world. You’ve done that with aplomb. But do you know how to nurture and develop your soul? Do you know the unique story that is struggling to express itself through you, the contribution to the world that only you can make? As you start to identify your sacred dance – and understanding will come in bits and gleamings that weave together over time – you’ll realize that your whole life to date has been a ticket to the ballroom. Now you’re in, and the real game begins. It’s time to learn the steps, and master them so well that you start to embody them. You create a whole new beauty with the grace and choreography that no one else can pull off except you.
It won’t be easy.
It won’t be quick.
It will take you the rest of your life.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
