I turned 30 a few weeks ago, and had big plans to write about all the wisdom I’ve accumulated in the last three decades. I was influenced by writers like Ryan Holiday, whose latest birthday post – 35 Lessons on the Way to 35 – includes gems like “walks improve almost everything,” and “most people would rather argue about reality than do something about reality.” I had visions of my own list being just as inspiring for you readers.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of 30 pieces of unique wisdom worth sharing. There have been a lot of birthday posts, and all the good stuff is taken. I couldn’t even think of 10! If you don’t own an electric toothbrush, buy one. If you haven’t seen The Sopranos, watch it. That’s about it.
Instead of a long list, I kept coming back to the central theme of much of my writing in the past year:
We are all far more capable of change than we realize.
This was true during my training for the Philadelphia Marathon.
This was true during my Whole 30 diet with Anne.
This has been true during the last few months exploring my faith.
In fact, when I reflect on the past decade or so, the biggest constant in my life is change. I am far more outgoing and optimistic than I used to be. I live in a different city, and work in a different profession, than I ever intended. And my daily life – from running and writing to going to bed early – looks nothing like it did back in college.
If I had tried to predict how the last ten years would go, I would have gotten basically all of the big pieces entirely wrong.
And I think most of you would have too.
Why is this important?
Despite realizing how much I have changed up to this point in my life, it’s easy to assume that I won’t develop much more in the future. For example, even though I have proof that I can develop a serious running habit in a couple of years, I’m still reluctant to accept that I could do the same thing with anything else that I put my mind to.
Singing opera. Spending more time with friends. Learning about AI.
Anything’s possible, but only if I believe it’s possible.
As I look ahead to my thirties, there are three lessons that I hope to take with me:
1. It’s hard to evaluate in the present the change I’m capable of in the future.
On day one, any meaningful future growth seems unlikely or impossible. I never thought I would be publishing writing on the internet, or running marathons, but here I am after years of gradual effort. Even though both hobbies are now inherent parts of who I am, they didn’t feel that way at the outset.
If I wait around for the perfect circumstances, I’ll never get started. The reason most people don’t pick up trash off the street is because they know it won’t make a difference. Of course, if everyone just started picking up trash, without worrying about the eventual outcome, our streets would be clean. The same goes for personal endeavors.
I can be more forgiving with myself when I start something new. Not every change has to stick, but every change has to start somewhere.
2. I can’t be sure of the things I will “never” do.
Throughout most of college, I thought I would spend my postgrad years living abroad, teaching English and applying to law school. I never saw myself working for a big corporation or living in New York City.
But when Anne and I started dating, all of that went out the window. I couldn’t imagine living farther away from her than I had to, and when senior year came around I took a last minute job in Baltimore that eventually led me to New York City and American Express, two places I couldn’t imagine my life without. Along the way, I lived with five random roommates who became great friends, and got married to Anne.
It’s tempting to think I know myself well enough to know that I will “never” do certain things, but the future is unpredictable. Right now I’m convinced that I’ll never play golf, but that might change if I moved closer to a golf course or if Anne started playing again regularly. Right now I’m convinced I won’t drink alcohol again, but I was just as convinced of the opposite ten years ago, and that didn’t last.
There’s no guarantee that I’ll feel the same way tomorrow as I do today.
3. With so much possibility, it pays to keep an open mind.
When my dad first got to Union College, he went around to everyone he saw and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Paul,” he said. Or so the story goes.
Having heard that anecdote as an incoming college freshman, I could have taken a page from his book and done the same thing. But I didn’t. Instead, I did the exact opposite. I waited until other people introduced themselves to me, and once I had my group of friends I resisted making any new ones.
I got lucky, and came away from college with great lifelong friendships, but I still think about the opportunities I passed up because of my close-mindedness those four years. That missed experience has led me to act more like my dad in adulthood, and I have some great new friendships to thank for it.
The only thing that gets in the way of our capacity to change is our willingness to give something new a try. If you go on a date with someone you open yourself up to the possibility – however small – of falling in love. If you never go on the date, that possibility doesn’t exist.
That doesn’t mean I should say yes to everything, but it does mean I should take a second to weigh the upside against the downside. It’s obvious now that a little discomfort in college was well worth the possibility of developing new lifelong friends – and the same is true for a lot of new experiences that give me pause.
Maybe I should play a few rounds of golf after all.
– Emmett
What I’m Reading:
Why I Quit Drinking Alcohol – Mark Manson
Not exactly my experience, but definitely some parallels
Are You An Uphill Person Or A Downhill Person? – Brendan Leonard
“Because we all have at least one friend who we don’t totally understand, but who we want to be happy just the same.”
They Say – Robert Glazer
“Let’s have the courage to stop hiding behind generalizations, unnamed forces and inanimate objects, and recognize our power to create a better outcome.”
Hometown’s Finest – Anne Helen Peterson
“Fazarri’s, of course. Effie’s, whose main attraction is a burger the size of a pizza. Sharp’s Burger Ranch, where you can still sit on the saddle while you eat your burger with fry sauce. Bojack’s, a supper club in the old style, where spaghetti comes out as a side for every meal. And Hogan’s — which, like Fazarri’s, is in Clarkston — which makes the best food in town out of a tiny bar kitchen.”