A month ago, I posted an article on this website titled “The Why of What and How: Purpose In Our Lives.” Inspired by a line from Nietzsche—“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how”—the piece stressed the importance of attempting to ask and answer deep questions of ourselves, particularly why we think and act as we do.
Several days after posting that article, I asked myself, “So, hotshot, what is your why?”
Tough question.
Several days after posting that article, I asked myself, “So, hotshot, what is your why?”
Tough question.
Given that I had written the article, you would think I would have at hand an instant response. Not the case. I nearly popped off a blithe reply to the man in the mirror, but then remembered the Lenten vow I had made: Do not deceive thyself. So I told that image in the glass I would get back to him.
For weeks now, I have considered this question. What is most important to me? Why, other than by habit, do I bother getting out of the bed in the morning? What is my why for living?
After much consideration, I came up with three answers to these questions.
My most important “why” for living is love.
There are people I love: my family, a small band of friends, some former students. Some of them I have disappointed or hurt. Some of them are dead. Some of them love me in spite of myself, keeping me in their prayers and thoughts. They have my back. By their example these few stalwarts make me want to be a better man. They allow me, as Nietzsche says, “to bear almost any how.”
Duty appeared next on my list.
Once, while teaching, I talked about the importance of duty to Robert E. Lee. “Duty,” Lee said, “is the most sublime word in our language. Do your duty in all things. You cannot do more. You should never wish to do less.”
One of the students raised his hand and said, “I really don’t like that word, Mr. Minick.”
This young man’s statement took me aback. After thinking about it, however, I understood what he meant.
Duty is a hard word. It implies responsibilities. It means more than just performing those daily tasks we dislike. It means obligation and hardship. It means giving ourselves to virtue and truth. It means doing the right thing.
Past failures to do my duty, to obey the code demanded by duty, have scarred my soul. Perhaps some of you reading this have experienced similar wounds. We fail ourselves when we fail to do our duty, and we must live with those failures for the rest of our lives.
Yet the only real way of putting ourselves back together is to take up that stained, dusty mantle of duty, pull it again about our shoulders, vow to do our best, and move forward.
Each morning I get out of bed and engage the world because it is my duty as a human being to do so.
Finally, there is work.
For many, work is a what rather than a why. A single mom works as a waitress, a job she doesn’t particularly enjoy. That is her what. Her why? She has a mortgage to pay and children to feed.
In my case, my work is my why. Teaching and writing are my passions. My teaching these days is limited to three grandchildren, but my writing continues to be one reason for that drinking first cup of coffee in the morning. Putting words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs brings from me a concentration of thought and emotion that takes me out of myself. For me, no other work experience offers such intensity of purpose.
Love, Duty, Work: these are the why that stand behind the what and how of my life.
How about you?
For weeks now, I have considered this question. What is most important to me? Why, other than by habit, do I bother getting out of the bed in the morning? What is my why for living?
After much consideration, I came up with three answers to these questions.
My most important “why” for living is love.
There are people I love: my family, a small band of friends, some former students. Some of them I have disappointed or hurt. Some of them are dead. Some of them love me in spite of myself, keeping me in their prayers and thoughts. They have my back. By their example these few stalwarts make me want to be a better man. They allow me, as Nietzsche says, “to bear almost any how.”
Duty appeared next on my list.
Once, while teaching, I talked about the importance of duty to Robert E. Lee. “Duty,” Lee said, “is the most sublime word in our language. Do your duty in all things. You cannot do more. You should never wish to do less.”
One of the students raised his hand and said, “I really don’t like that word, Mr. Minick.”
This young man’s statement took me aback. After thinking about it, however, I understood what he meant.
Duty is a hard word. It implies responsibilities. It means more than just performing those daily tasks we dislike. It means obligation and hardship. It means giving ourselves to virtue and truth. It means doing the right thing.
Past failures to do my duty, to obey the code demanded by duty, have scarred my soul. Perhaps some of you reading this have experienced similar wounds. We fail ourselves when we fail to do our duty, and we must live with those failures for the rest of our lives.
Yet the only real way of putting ourselves back together is to take up that stained, dusty mantle of duty, pull it again about our shoulders, vow to do our best, and move forward.
Each morning I get out of bed and engage the world because it is my duty as a human being to do so.
Finally, there is work.
For many, work is a what rather than a why. A single mom works as a waitress, a job she doesn’t particularly enjoy. That is her what. Her why? She has a mortgage to pay and children to feed.
In my case, my work is my why. Teaching and writing are my passions. My teaching these days is limited to three grandchildren, but my writing continues to be one reason for that drinking first cup of coffee in the morning. Putting words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs brings from me a concentration of thought and emotion that takes me out of myself. For me, no other work experience offers such intensity of purpose.
Love, Duty, Work: these are the why that stand behind the what and how of my life.
How about you?
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