Does this make you seem younger or older?

As I get more comfortable in situations, I tend to shed some of the restraint that got me to that level of comfort in the first place. In some cases this is beneficial, I loosen up and am no longer plagued by nervousness. I become the real me. The only problem is that the real me also happens to be 19 years old. What’s funny to my friends, or even appropriate decorum tends to fall flat. Even worse, that sort of childish energy is self-perpetuating and I grow exponentially more and more out of touch with what I personally find to be reasonable.

So normally when I sense these things coming, I create some aphorism or question to pose to myself in regards to each action I take. For a while–when I first started interning at Rudius–it was “Tone it Down, Too Much Noise.” I realized that my job to be seen, not heard. Although I’m always ready to go at full speed, I had to accept that it was my duty to first prove that I was deserving of that responsibility. With this I always had an answer to the question: “Should I say or do this?” It was normally NO. But when it was YES, due to my policy of caution, it was definitely YES.

Today I got that same sense and instituted a new question: “Does this make you seem older or younger?” If it doesn’t project an image of maturity, then I don’t want to do it. I’m not going to let my own enthusiasm ruin the restraint I aim to cultivate.

Which is why I’ve mentioned so many times the messages I have taped above my computer. I’m a big believe in normative explanations. You become how you repeatedly act. And so when you envision how you want to be, the process of getting there is fairly simple. Envision. Act. Act. Are.

The more I read the more I become convinced that life’s only meaning from that which ascribe to it. That purpose exists only when your project and live it daily. That the only good life is one filled with excellent action. And I find this to be especially significant in Greek and Roman literature–and then again recently with Coelho’s concept of a personal legend or Pressfield’s book, The War of Art.

But I’ve been drawn to the Greek concept of eudaimonia–the idea of happiness is a product of living productively. That’s meant in the literal sense, productive–results.

I see Plato and Aristotle and Aurelius and Coelho intersecting at the point of each life have a single cause. Each person was created to do one thing and one thing well. A life is maximized–its telos reached–when it dedicates itself entirely to that action.

I’m not quite sure what mine is yet; it might be years until I know. But I am sure, however, that I’m at least on the right path. Although I might not have reached true actualization, I am well on my way to warming up. Everyday I get up and I scratch a little at the walls that society sets up to prevent you from getting there. That my purpose is to be involved in the creation and furtherance of public discourse, so each book I read and word I write is the functioning of my soul. Happiness comes from action, and that action must be excellent.

I’m tired of the obfuscation. We can’t be “anything,” we can be one thing. Your child doesn’t have the world at his fingertips; it’s already in his hands, in his body. They just need be self-aware enough to realize it. Meaning doesn’t come from religion, it comes from work. When we fail to tell people this, they lose life in the forest for all the trees–clutching with the vastness of it all, when what they need is tiny enough to hold. Some of us know this and are happy–and productive. Others know this and refuse to admit it, drowning the simplicity with alcohol or drugs. Plato speaks of this too:

Once you find that one thing, or rather, unearth it within yourself, the fog that surrounds your choices disappears. Your course of action is direct and never in doubt. They say good strategy require a pithy, concrete aphorism to serve as a benchmark, so when you’re employees face a decision, they always know where to side. I think this is what you gain when you discover your personal legend. From that point forward, all choices revolve on the axis “does this help me reach it?” And indeed, if you function telologically, you only pursue when the answer is yes. Marcus Aurelius asked himself this question each morning as he arose–as do I, siding always with more work, with one more step in the right direction.

But I would assert, as the greats have asserted, the excellence is life’s main fungibility. Excellence here becomes excellence there, and combined they equal the ultimate excellence: happiness. It seems to be logical, if happiness is that which we all aspire too, it must be the most excellent–and only through excellent action are we excellent.

And though I’d love to continue quoting, over and over, I feel at some point it would become absurd. I find the same words in each book I read, from Malcolm X, Viktor Frankl and John Boyd, even evolutionary psychology. Man was created to serve a single purpose, to complete one task. Now even if the allure of that job is just some neurons misfiring–an evolutionary side effect of a primal, sustenance based need that doesn’t make the gratification any less powerful. There MUST be some reason that philosophy’s Greats hammer back to the same point: Find your cause and execute it with excellence. Do what you’re to do and do it well. Iterate excellence and it will pervade your existence.

So like Aristotle said, results combine to equal the result. Read and read often. Act in moderation. Resist the pleasures and pains that distract you. Wake each morning prepared for exertion. Do not sleep or leave the gym until you have. Drench the ground in your sweat, fill the pages with words. The Resistance will dog you the entire way, pay it no attention. When you diverge from the path, look inwards and correct–dedicate a second to chastisement and move on. But most importantly, realize that not knowing your purpose is no excuse for stasis. Even if the destination has yet to reveal itself, you still must be ready for the call. Prepare, be active, and be open. Only then will you find happiness and contentment. I have had only a small taste, but I at least know it’s worth every bit of effort.

I just reread Viktok Frankl’s book “Man’s Search for Meaning” which is one of my favorites. I added a new quote from the book to the Book Quotes and Passages section. View it HERE