Are you secretly terrified that you're squandering your life? It's a question that haunts many of us, especially when we compare our seemingly ordinary existence to the extraordinary achievements of others. But here's the controversial part: What if the very idea of needing to live an 'extraordinary' life is itself a trap? Let’s dive into this with a fresh perspective, using a blend of philosophy, history, and a dash of spirituality to guide the way.
Consider the advice column Your Mileage May Vary (https://www.vox.com/your-mileage-may-vary-advice-column), which tackles moral dilemmas through the lens of value pluralism (https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/418783/liberal-democracy-value-pluralism-isaiah-berlin). This framework suggests that we all hold multiple, often conflicting values—each valid in its own right. A recent reader submission (condensed and edited for clarity) captures this tension perfectly:
I’ve spent a decade in communications, helping spread important ideas. I’m good at my job, but I don’t feel like I’m making a 'grand impact.' Meanwhile, friends are saving lives or shaping policies, and I wonder if I’m falling short. I value work-life balance, relationships, and personal experiences, but should I switch to a more 'impactful' career? Is it enough to do an average amount of good, or am I selling myself short?
Dear Impact-Seeker,
Let’s start with a bold question: How do you feel about your own mortality? Morbid, right? But stay with me. The fear of death, as anthropologist Ernest Becker argued in his Pulitzer Prize-winning book The Denial of Death (1974), drives much of our modern obsession with leaving a legacy. Becker’s terror management theory (https://www.ernestbecker.org/terror-management-theory) suggests that culture provides tools to cope with the inevitability of being forgotten. From religion promising eternal life to modern pursuits like publishing autobiographies or advancing social progress, we’ve always sought symbolic immortality.
But here’s where it gets controversial: The pressure to achieve a 'grand impact' might be less about doing good and more about soothing our existential dread. The Industrial Revolution amplified this, with utilitarian philosophers arguing that actions are valuable only if they maximize happiness for the greatest number. Suddenly, careers became a means to achieve immortality—a way to outlive our physical selves by contributing to something bigger.
And this is the part most people miss: Not everyone buys into this narrative. Take Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, a 19th-century French nun who embraced what she called her Little Way. Instead of chasing grand, heroic deeds, she focused on small, daily acts of love—like smiling at an annoying nun or conquering her irritability during prayers. She likened herself to a humble daisy or violet, content to flourish in God’s garden without needing to be a rose. Her message? The world needs both the grand and the small, the showy and the subtle.
Now, let’s pause. Is the utilitarian pursuit of 'maximum impact' truly the only way to live a meaningful life? Or is Saint Thérèse’s focus on depth over breadth equally valid? Here’s the kicker: Both extremes feel unsatisfying. Obsessing over scale can lead to neglecting personal relationships, while hyper-focusing on depth might ignore broader societal needs. The modern challenge is to balance both—to go wide and deep, embracing life’s richness without sacrificing sustainability or integrity.
So, what does this mean for you? Instead of fixating on a career that maximizes impact, aim for one that balances multiple goods: meaningful work, personal fulfillment, relationships, and well-being. And here’s a radical thought: Maybe your current job already ticks those boxes. After all, life isn’t a competition, and its value isn’t measured by scale alone.
But here’s the real question: What if life is simply a gift—precious not because it’s eternal, but because it’s fleeting? Like a box of candy, its beauty lies in savoring it, not hoarding it. When we approach life with gratitude, sharing our talents and resources naturally follows, not out of fear of being forgotten, but out of joy.
What do you think? Is the pursuit of a 'grand impact' a noble goal, or a distraction from living fully? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation that’s as rich and nuanced as life itself.
Bonus Reads:
- Gal Beckerman’s exploration of experiential relativity (https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/2026/01/human-ancestors-emotion-history/684959/) asks whether emotions like sadness felt different in the past.
- An Aeon article (https://aeon.co/essays/why-an-abundance-of-choice-is-not-the-same-as-freedom) challenges the idea that more choices equal more freedom.
- Curious about AI? Check out Claude’s 'soul doc' (https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/vpNG99GhbBoLov9og/claude-4-5-opus-soul-document), the text shaping one of the world’s major AI chatbots.
