How to Live: You’ll Die Eventually
I wrote a blog post yesterday, but I was interrupted in the middle. I started writing another, but it didn’t quite express what I wanted to. So I deleted both of them. It’s a frustrating feeling to have this urge to say something — to express something — yet not be able to. The past few days have been interesting. The short version of what I wanted to say is that I’ve started an Icelandic learning group that meets tomorrow. Everyone is interested, my first group with too many people interested. Thus, I’ve discovered a niche that needs to be filled: engaging Icelandic lessons.
This was an idea I had last year. I wanted to make this part of my business, but my cofounder and I didn’t agree on how it could incorporate. My recent breakup left me asking the question of what I’m doing in Iceland: What keeps me here? I decided to answer that question by forming this group and devoting more time to actually learning the language myself. I went around, spreading the idea. The people I told went around, spreading the idea. And to make a longer story short, I’m joining an artist co-working space in two weeks wherein I obtained (tentative) permission to host all my groups and teach my students. That was a decision I made in the moment when the opportunity arose: it’s expensive, but why not?
Who am I? I seem to be asking that question a lot. I still don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know what any kind of answer to that question would even look like. What I can say, however, is that I’m human. I am a being born of wants and wishes. The world around us denies us those things. I’ve written endlessly about society, but read my speech from Committee 2017 for a summary of my thoughts and ideas. The idea of “unfairness” is said to be childish. Nevertheless, it’s also very true. The world is unfair. That’s just how it is. I’m a living example of that such as how I obtained Italian citizenship by blood, allowing me to move to Iceland. What separates me from anyone else? Some old documents. I have many American friends here in Iceland, and they struggle with how to stay in this country after their student visas run out.
The world isn’t fair because it isn’t equal. Everyone is struggling to survive. How do we live, then? How do we pursue a life we want to live and actually live it? The first thing I’ll say is to forget about retirement. When I was a teenager, we were taught to save for retirement: “Investing only this much each month for twenty years will make you a millionaire by the time you’re 60!” They were right: it’s quite easy to become rich when your old if you start while you’re young. But what about that trip you wanted to take? What about that new camera, new instrument, new car, nicer apartment, better clothes, that class you wanted to take, that concert you wanted to attend? There’s a difference between irresponsible spending and experiencing life. You don’t need any of those things. Nobody does. The matter is whether or not it will bring you meaning or enjoyment.
When you’re 60 years old, will you look back at your life with pride, or with regret? And what will you do with those million dollars? I would rather spend the money on this co-working space than invest it. I would rather spend a month in Tallinn attending a Russian immersion school than invest it. I would rather take a day off work and spend that time teaching people Icelandic for free than work and invest the salary. I would rather go out for lunch with a friend. I would rather buy a new camera and a computer and a printer and picture frames and photo paper and ink and pay to host a website and try to sell my art. I would rather give up everything and move to another country and live off my savings than stay in the same place until I’m 60 just because that’s the safe thing to do.
One day, you will die. What kind of life do you want to have lived? When you make a decision, you should be asking yourself how you will look back on that day: “I’m glad I decided to have that difficult conversation, otherwise I’d still be wondering what would have happened.” You should be saying, “I’m glad I took that risk, even if it didn’t work out in the end." You should make the choices that go against the outcome of, “Actually, I wish I would have tried that out.” Because one day, you will die. There’s no going back.
This is the importance of community. If I took the most extreme risks and failed and lost everything, I could at least ask my community here for help. I would never be without food, a place to stay, or people to help me get back on my feet. The entire idea of a community is a support group: not only to help in difficult times, but also in good. Like with this new Icelandic group formed from my extended community. I get to follow my dreams. I get to realize them. Through them, I’ve been able to travel, go to concerts, work on my photography, start my projects, learn languages, experience the world. Who are you in isolation?
Live your life. Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid. Be yourself, but be self-aware. Find a sense of meaning, purpose, and belonging. The first step — the hardest one — is identifying what you want. Second is acting on achieving that. Third is finding people along the way who would support you. If you can’t find a community for yourself, then build one. It’s hard. And that is exactly why nobody does it. So break the cycle, go out, and live your life. You’re going to die eventually, so you may as well live the life you want while you’re at it.
I’m quite excited for my future now. I don’t know how anything will go, but I feel the eagerness to do things. I have an incredibly good feeling about this co-working place. The same goes for this new group. I also continue meeting people, making friends and connections, and trying new things out. Not everything is perfect, my life is far from “living the dream,” but at least I’m trying my best. Though it seems that all the negative experiences are nothing more than life shaking things up in an effort to tell me to try something different or to see things from different perspectives.