Is an unplanned life, a life half lived? If we fail to progress through it as systematically as possible, are we leaving too much of life on the table; something that might have been but wasn’t, because we ceased planning our lives well into the future? Are we therefore better served by organizing every major step, ensuring that we leave as little to chance as possible? Or are we really assuming a much greater role than we actually have in the outcome of our lives, as we purposefully careen through it, steering as accurate a course as we can, while in reality, knowing very little about what will be happening just around the next turn?
By example, the corporate world leans mightily on the use of strategic, tactical and operational plans. Meticulously plotting how every division, department and office will rally round the quotas and push their production and dividends ever northward. And yet, Wall Street and Main Street are littered with the corpses of corporations and small businesses who fell short, miscalculated or failed to see the demand for their product or service falling off an adjacent cliff. Millions of man-hours spent annually bolstering capacity, streamlining logistics and efficiency, fine-tuning personnel to the point of distraction and stress-related breakdowns, only to have an errant tweet or picture surface on a Friday afternoon, torpedoing six months of gains, because a CEO didn’t know an iPhone could record in a dimly lit room.
We are focused, if not obsessed with planning our lives into existence and elevating them to ever higher levels of accomplishment, because we ardently believe that a successful Comic-Con, wedding or Oscars’ performance, all operate on the same principles of organization as an actual life. But do they? Is it realistic to assume that an aeronautical engineer can neatly and successfully segue over to a life-coach, simply by changing the focus of her skillset? Or can life and how we pursue it, really compare to the mechanisms that support it? After all, cars are complicated pieces of machinery; and so are airplanes, boats, computers, people’s bodies when broken, and minds, when left on their own. But most things that we make and want in this life are not sentient. They don’t talk to us (at least not in complete sentences) and generally are incapable of helping us in any meaningful way, beyond providing directions, taking photographs and recalling who first invented the bowling pin. And yet, we continue to plot and design, reconfigure and reset our priorities and infrastructure to meet the upcoming demands we will no doubt be facing in our lives, without totally understanding what they will be or when they’ll arrive.
So, is not planning some portion of our life a really stupid thing to do; leaving it virtually unchaperoned, while it wanders into the oncoming paths of other lives, hellbent on accomplishing just as much as we would like to? Or is it simply deferring to the overwhelming power and influence of the Universe to fit us into its schemes, while giving us some measure of control. Controlling the small things that matter the most, in the exact moment when they arise and not at any time after that.
From a different perspective, let’s say you plan a trip; you, your canoe and some supplies, going down a river for a week or two. In one version of this trip you have 10 locations mapped out. You’ve called in reservations on 3 overnight stays and have decided that it should last exactly 12 days. In another version of this, a somewhat less prepared for but nonetheless important one, you bring enough food for several days, along with a sleeping bag, a tent, a box of matches, cellphone, two novels and a good feeling about winging it. You know, just enjoy what you see and go where you want to go when you get there. Which version is correct? Which one has a better chance of producing a good result for you?
Now, some might argue that a life is not a trip down the river, it’s far more important. Far more complex and in need of detailed planning to just have a chance of it working out the way we want it to. Assuming we know exactly what that is. And there is truth in that. But … is the process being offered up, faulty if it’s used for living life as well? If we leave enough room or a lot of room for, let’s see what happens, are we making a huge mistake? Leaving far too many opportunities for other people’s lives to careen into ours, knocking ours off course while they happily march toward their final destination. Or will it make any difference at all, because other people’s lives are subject to the same uncertainties and interferences as ours?
And yet, a planned life is no guarantee of a happy one. College degree, check; master’s degree, check. Husband found, check. Wedding planned, honeymoon scheduled, both checked. Two kids and a dog, also check. But ten years in, this all ends with a divorce. What happened, it was all planned?
Planners often assume that the outcome is inevitable if the plan is well-researched, clearly stated and executed with passion and intention. Getting the grade-point average up to get into the right college, which leads to the right internship, which leads to the right opportunities falling into place. All very doable, on paper. But, when plan meets life, when our goals and desires run headlong into those of others, who are equally committed to success, what is the inevitable outcome? Is success only measurable by the percentage of our plan actually attained? Or, by the quality of life lived along the way, whether we achieved the endgame or not? And what if life simply doesn’t work this way, this predictably, which I believe is often the case. What if we fall into our backup mode instead and simply drift through life for a while, applying just enough pressure and guidance to avoid as many pitfalls as possible, while extracting as much joy from it as possible.
What if we “freight-train” life instead; adding one sound and pleasing and productive moment onto the next, until we have strung together a life that makes sense, doesn’t offend and leaves us with an abiding sense of accomplishment, even if it’s not surrounded by the usual trappings of such an endeavor?
Once, a very long time ago, I left home to visit a friend in a foreign land — California. I bought a roundtrip ticket and packed a bag. Said goodbye to a rather distraught and confused mother. Picked up a friend, said more goodbyes and headed to JFK airport. The flight lasted six hours; the effect it created, a lifetime. Within a few years, I went from California to England, and back to California; found a woman (in San Francisco), that I’ve been with for 40 years, had two brilliant daughters, a life I am proud of and as much as I might try to say it was all planned, none of it really was.
I do not offer this up as an operating basis. While it has been beyond wonderful at times, it has also been extremely harrowing; like riding a roller coaster backwards, with ones’ butt firmly over the rail. Exhilarating, yes. Fulfilling, yes. But at what cost to the psyche? Could it have been different, perhaps improved, if better planned? Maybe. If I had not taken that impromptu trip to California though, I would never have met my future wife. Never had my daughters. It would have been a different life altogether. A better one? I doubt it, but who’s to say.
I think the answers to the questions I posed above, lie in utilizing both methods. Live life as if you’re on that river trip, enjoying what’s in front of you. Step into the cold water and chill. Breathe deeply and exhale slowly and don’t think of work. Then when it’s time, wrap everything up, load the car and head home. Then go to work on Monday, enjoy the week, the work and the security and plan your next “unplanned trip.”
There is no doubt whatsoever, that living in the moment, being there enjoying what is around one, is the best approach. If you don’t enjoy where you are and what you have, then you’ll desire to change it. Eventually this is all you will have; a rather never-ending journey of transforming your life into something better and then waiting until you have it, before you actually live it.
While being extremely easy to say, this bit about living in the moment, has become one of the most difficult and nerve-wracking exercises in self-determinism. We race through life as if the true reward awaits us somewhere down the line, and stopping, even for a moment, to enjoy the journey is only distracting us from our final destination. But who came up with this theory? Who set us all on the path of living a life that was so backend loaded with all sorts of goodies that we might one day have the time and presence of mind to really appreciate and enjoy it? Our concept of heaven is one version of this endless road trip, but we needn’t step into the realm of religion to get an uncomfortable sense that life and its living, which is what this journey is supposed to be all about, has all too often been forgotten and in its place, we’ve erected a billboard, a monument that simply announces our arrival at a place that doesn’t look anything like the brochure we read years ago.
Retirement seems to work a bit like this. We work, countless hours, accumulating all sorts of treasures and possessions, while deferring true immersion into the joys that life offers, all the while planning to have the money and wherewithal to live that life of leisure at a later date. Then when THAT date arrives and retirement looms ready to be grasped, we are all rather tired, a little disillusioned (as our dependence and belief in the efficacy of alone time has waned) and not so sure that leisure and freedom is all it is cracked up to be. We might hesitate at this time before we leap or we might leap in regardless, while assuming many things will happen, but realizing few. This is not a planned life. This is a Hail Mary pass. I hope this play works, because I’ve been planning for it for 40 years and I don’t have a viable backup.
And yet, (there’s always an, and yet), it might work out brilliantly. There might be sufficient money, time, desire and energy to pull it all together. But I am willing to bet, that in this version, this successful version, there was plenty of moments lived when they happened. Plenty of time when the visit to the in-laws, the park, Disney World and other places all went fairly well, because there was an intention to just have fun. Yes, it was a commitment. Yes, we had to visit them because it was our turn to travel. But … someone decided to keep it light, enjoy the walks, the meals, the conversation and the company and made the best of Life’s version of a K-Mart run. In other words, it wasn’t always exciting. It wasn’t always Super Bowls and World Series, but it was always interesting. It was usual and every day and most likely what we’ll see next week and next year. Some might even say boring, but that’s nearsighted and missing the point altogether. Life has been and always will be, a series of pedestrian, happy, unhappy, unassuming, underappreciated and pleasantly amazing moments that every human being will experience, before they die. Can they get better? Yes. Can they become worse? Also, yes. But what they are, most of all, is predictable. We will love some moments and hate some moments, and be somewhat indifferent toward a bunch of others in generally equal parts as we formulate a plan on the fly, that fits within the life rapidly being dealt to us, each and every day.
Perhaps the reason why planning can be so difficult and frustrating for us, is because the Universe is trying to accommodate everyone’s version of the good life. And waiting for it to arrive before we start taking pleasure in it, may not be the best approach. Perhaps the best plan, the one with the greatest chance at succeeding, maybe the one left open for an ending that is already on its way.
