When there are no more life goals

I was talking with a 20-something friend today about life, and the general direction it just kind of leads us for those first two decades or so. You know the drill... do well in high school so you can go to college, do well in college so you can get a good job, get a good job so you can... what?

For some, the next goal is get married, maybe buy a house, and make babies, but that's certainly not for everyone. But if you are one of those goal-driven people, what happens when you do get to your mid-20's and there really isn't a next goal? Not having a good reason to get up in the morning is not a good way to start your day.

I can kind of relate to my friend's issue. Imagine much of your energy for many years being spent on executing that plan. For better or worse, it gives you focus and purpose. It's a plan that is pervasive in American culture, particularly among white, suburban middle-class folks. We don't question it, we just do it.

My ability to relate comes largely from doing something similar, if somewhat half-assed. I did just enough in high school to get into college, and did about the same in college around things I was less interested in. Then I busted ass to "make it" in radio, before going to government work in TV. About the time I was 25, I realized that there was no obvious next step. The subsequent exploration led to a new career in software development, while dabbling in writing a book, coaching, consulting and sort of starting a company that makes a little money. I also dabbled in marriage, which didn't work out the first time. I bought a house, too, which is really not working out for me. I waited a long time to make a baby, but fortunately that part is working out well. It surely would not have in my mid-20's.

So yeah, I've been there, in that "quarter-life crisis" of sorts, and in some ways, I never really came out of it. While I finally feel like I have a decent handle on my personal life, I'm still not sure what I wanna be when I grow up. I'm honestly not sure what I'm working toward. Aside from raising a kid who has the skills to not be a douche bag, there isn't really a life goal that I have in mind.

What my friend has, and what I wish I had back then, was self-awareness. I think that not having any particular goal for life moving forward is fine, and self-awareness allows you to explore, experiment and hopefully refrain from doing really stupid things. By that I mean it's OK to stumble and fail a bit on your own terms, but there is a line somewhere that differentiates between a learning failure and a total fuck-up. Few skills serve you as well as self-awareness. Unfortunately, I don't think most people can be honest with themselves either.

That said, the problem that my friend and I have, despite being separated by more than ten years of life experience, is more existential. The problem is rooted in the idea that having some goal gives your life meaning and reason. Some people, maybe too many people, believe this so strongly that they chase goals that ultimately don't mean shit. You probably work with people like that, especially in environments where some arbitrary achievement is met with significant financial reward. They're likely the most miserable bastards you know. They're also people you probably don't want to hang out with.

In the absence of that financial goal, I think we're compelled to believe that perhaps exploration and experimentation is the goal. The accumulation of experience is in fact the reason for being. I think that's shaky ground as well. I know someone who is a total experience whore, who tries everything because it's there, but seems unwilling to believe the experiences probably don't mean much more than the financial achievement of the other guy.

Sounds kind of bleak, doesn't it? Like there really is no meaning to life? Perhaps. What I would suggest is that the value you derive from life doesn't have to be grand gestures achieved by circling the globe or banking millions. The things that make me smile the most might not even be remembered by anyone. It might be the smile I got from a volleyball kid when a skill started to click for her, or some completely anonymous action taken by some charity I made a donation to. There's something to be said for the cumulative value of the smallest things you do every day.

That, my friends, is where life's meaning starts to come not from the big goals, but the journey. If I look back at the impact I've had on people and the part of the world I've influenced, I can honestly say that I've kicked ass. Going forward, I can expect more of the same. Even my younger friend can find that impact, and hopefully look forward with the confidence and knowledge there will be countless opportunities to do more. You don't have to cure cancer to give your life meaning.