Change can be exciting - the feeling of a positive future ahead, of having choices, of having hope. These feelings give us motivation and drive. We are explorers at heart and the prospect of change elicits a deep yearning for growth and novelty. But change can also be frightening. It's frightening to consider the divergent paths of life that we must contend with and ultimately choose from. This perennial feeling of uncertainty seemingly native to the human condition, is truly as Robert Frost summarized, "two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both." While we're a species with a deep sense of adventure and courage, we are also a species with a longing for comfort, satiation, and certainty.
As the world turns to winter once more, and the year comes to a close, I find myself at a crossroads. In some exponential way, the decision tree continues to amplify and this year the magnitude of my choices is paralyzing. In this moment, I see in front of me a very large intersection, much larger than ever before. An intersection akin to the Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo. I query Robert Frost in my head, "what do you do when there are 10 roads, each as foggy and as unclear as the next?" I feel my judgement clouded by the incredible quantity of humans going each way - a metaphor for the plethora of contradicting evidence, insight and advice one can receive when seeking counsel for this predicament. I look for logic, for guiding indicators, for mechanisms of decision. I see none. I search out right and wrong, best and worst, for mechanisms of value. I find none. I listen for a word or phrase to orient me, a compass derived from some parcel of wisdom yet to hit my ears. I hear none. But I recall the words my first boss spoke to me in 2018, "life is a series of choices, make yours."
2022 was a year of awakening for me. Much of who I knew myself to be was put into question. Much of my identity, wrapped up in the preparation and introspection that I'd long considered to be my crowning achievement, was exposed to be riddled with hubris and pride, blinded by theory and philosophizing that stacked up poorly against real life. This awakening has been painful personally, and it's caused pain to others, often those I love the most; pain that I will be accountable for and must work to reconcile. But such is the nature of learning truths about yourself and about life. The old parts of you die off as the new version of you is forged, and this process is painful. It's anxiety inducing, it's a harbinger of Chaos, as Order fights to take hold. I attempt to remain optimistic that the chaos is warranted and useful, and that order will indeed be earned.
As I look back to this year, what can I hang my hat on? What did I achieve or accomplish? A previous version of myself might've place greater importance on that line of questioning, but as I've come to understand, there is great danger on its reliance. I've rather painfully realized that my confidence and identity have been entangled too tightly to my accomplishments and achievements. Perhaps a better question is, what did I learn? Because on that accord, plenty. I learned how to better accept this phase of life that I find myself in, this transitory period in which the sheer quantity of information and optionality is discombobulating. I learned about relationships and interpersonal communication, and the difficulty remaining true to who you are whilst building a life with someone else. I learned about resentment and anger and the destruction they cause. I learned about the difficulty of compromise, and the importance of it. I learned about the struggle of recognizing cognitive blind spots and why it's crucial that we do so. I learned about the challenge of separating the past from the present, especially those parts of the past you're unaware are affecting you. I learned about the feeling of tyrannizing your soul, and the damage done when you do not speak truthfully. And I learned about love, specifically a version of deep love that was subject to trials and tribulations, mistakes and conflict, but redeeming in its genuine sincerity. Most importantly, I learned about true opulence - the absolute serenity and peace that can be achieved in this life by finding happiness in the present moment and control of the mind. Toward this vector, I direct my attention with great intensity and settle in for a long journey.
Another, better-orienting question than that of my accomplishments would be, "what did I experience?" To this I say, plenty. Much of my experiences were branched from previous years, but many were truly novel. From stunning tropical landscapes to hiking the Rockies, to sunsets on Venice Beach, my mind was enriched with beautiful experiences in the company of wonderful friends and loved ones. Separately from the vacations, I experienced many small moments of joy and pleasure that drove me to wake up the next day and gave me a deep sense of meaning. I experienced love and I experienced heartache. I experienced belonging and I experienced loneliness. I experienced success and I experienced failure. And in-so-doing, I got a full dose of life in 2022.
I have much to be grateful for, a sentiment that I often reflect on in my To-A-Year essay, but one that I hope to reflect on more frequently. It's worth stating my gratitude, at the risk of repeating myself, because on this topic, we can never be too vocal, too outspoken. I'm grateful for the incredible and seemingly endless opportunities my life has afforded me. I'm grateful for financial stability. I'm grateful for many deep connections in my life. I'm grateful for the capacity to experience love and the inexplicable joy of being loved. I'm grateful for forgiveness. I'm grateful for adaptability. I'm grateful for my health. I'm grateful for many years left to live this wonderfully challenging and enjoyable life.
In the book of Exodus, when Moses's people escape the tyranny of Egypt, they wind up in the desert for 40 years, perhaps a metaphor for the deep sense of uncertainty and directionlessness that arise in us from uncovering truths about life. His people begin warring with each other and worshiping false idols, yet another metaphor for the natural instincts towards chaos when the ground falls out from underneath us. God sends snakes that terrorize them, an insult to injury. But when Moses finally goes to God and asks him to call off the snakes, God tells him to make an image of a snake and put it on a staff in the middle of the settlement. He tells Moses to relay to his people, that everyone must look at that image and then the snakes will stop biting them. And so he does, and so it works. This is a brilliant metaphor, that by confronting what you fear the most, you're made more courageous, and that this is the optimal path to deal with fear and uncertainty. We know this to be true with Clinical Psychology utilizing exposure therapy. It is better to become stronger and more courageous in the face of what you fear than it is to seek refuge and distance from that fear.
Later in the bible, the passage of John 3:14 says, "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the son of man must be lifted up." Given my strange proclivity over the last decade to observe the number 314 all too often, this line in the bible speaks to me with a particular profundity that makes it one of the most important understandings of my life to this point. The meaning to be found in life, comes from the confrontation of, deep understanding about, and successful mastery over that which we fear the most. In my case that fear is uncertainty, pain, isolation, and mistake.
2023 will be a year of choosing, of looking directly at that great crossroads, at that fear of mine, and putting my faith in a path, with the understanding that it may destroy me or it may bring me absolute peace. As the great Albert Einstein said, "Adversity introduces a man to himself." My hope for 2023 is to transform the learnings of 2022 and the painful growth I've undergone, into wisdom, and employ that wisdom in the decisions ahead. And ultimately to grow into a stronger, more Temperate, more Prudent, more Just individual, brother, son, friend, and partner.
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