Commit before you're ready
against temporary living
Update: I’ve published a deluxe edition of this essay here.
"Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her."
— G.K. Chesterton
One of the biggest fallacies about commitment is that there is a right person/city/career out there waiting for you to find it. And once you do, you'll suddenly be ready to commit.
But great things aren't just out there waiting for you. They are created. They are built.
In the commitment equation, people overestimate the importance of finding the right thing and underestimate the necessity of making it the right thing through their decision to commit1.
*
In Le Petit Prince, the prince stumbles into a garden filled with beautiful red roses. He’s aghast. He thought his rose was the only one of its kind.
But later, the prince realizes all the other roses, although identical in appearance, are not so special.
“You are not at all like my rose. You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he said. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you—the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”
His rose is special, not because she is different or better. His rose is special because of all the love and effort he invested in caring for her, that he didn’t invest anywhere else.
That makes his rose irreplaceable. That bonds them. That makes it his.
*
We all seek meaningful places to inhabit. Places to call our own. Places that feel like home. To belong somewhere, instead of wishing we were someplace else. But it's with love and effort that these places are made. A home becomes a haven through its owner’s commitment to it. Love and effort turn potential into its glorious form.
The fairy tales remind us of this. The princess kisses a frog and creates the prince. Pinnochio comes to life through Geppetto’s craftsmanship and devotion. Beauty tames the Beast.
It’s easy to think that if you just look hard enough, you’ll find the perfect place to exist in this world2. The person that’s beautiful and funny and agrees with everything you say, the city that whispers “you belong”, the job that provides meaningful work, a six-figure salary, and an unlimited book budget. Then it will be effortless.
It’s even easier to think that any need for effort is a sign you chose wrong.
But it works the other way around: You commit, then figure it out. You dare to engage in the ongoing conversation. Giving and taking, listening and responding, inhaling and exhaling—until your breath becomes one.
The deepest bonds can only be forged within the safety of lifelong commitment. A person or place will only reveal themselves to you when they’re not afraid you’ll run away.
Once you cast off the feeling that your current surroundings are somehow temporary, you’ll inherit the responsibility to improve them. The spaces you occupy will begin to feel like home.
Commitment is crucial because solving problems and making things better is difficult. Without commitment, there’s always an excuse: you can always just leave. And if you can always leave, you will never be able to settle, to sink in, to fully surrender. Life will be walking a knife’s edge. Always close to a fatal precipice. Ties cut at a moment’s notice.
Once I entertained the idea of ending my last relationship, any time an issue arose that was the conclusion my mind ran to. Instead of solving the specific problem, it became proof that the whole structure was tragically flawed.
It’s hard to live one foot out and one foot in.
Life's richest rewards accrue to people who close doors in the best possible way3.
*
Deciding to commit is an act of devotion. A reclamation of agency. Above all, it’s faith.
Maybe you're terrified of choosing wrong, of missing out. Terrified of being caught standing still while the world races by. Terrified of confronting the truth that your life is a serious thing. I’m right there with you. But the alternative is far worse4.
A bit of advice given to a young Native American at the time of his initiation:
As you go the way of life,
You will see a great chasm.
Jump.
It is not as wide as you think.
*
I can’t shake this fear that I’ll live my whole life waiting for it to start.
For the longest time, I thought life was only about the search. That all my patience and discretion would be rewarded. I thought finding the right thing was where my responsibility ended.
Southern Thailand is seedy massage parlors and muay thai gyms and weed stores, but mostly tattooed white people, drifting around like tanned ghosts on motorbikes, sandy and stoned. I’m no longer sure what I’m doing here.
I suspect the next chapter of my life will involve a hatchback and muddy boots and roadside strawberry stands and farmer’s markets and stone fireplaces and flannel and fresh bread and fresher air and reading in grassy meadows and swimming in cold lakes and taking my books out of their boxes to breathe again and perhaps a pair of overalls (mostly for all the great jokes I’ll be able to make wearing them like “overall, it’s been a good day” etc etc). Planting roots. Staying put, instead of being in constant movement. Investing love and effort in the place I inhabit, rather than just existing there until I leave again.
I am tired of temporary living.
Thank you
for calling me on my crummy ideas and second-person sermons and editing this at 11:30pm on Friday night.My essays are entirely funded by patrons. If you value my work and want to support it (and get some exclusive content), the best way is by taking out a paid subscription.
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👋 what i’ve been up to:
I finished the 7-day silent meditation retreat and I’ve spent the rest of the week on the island of Ko Samui.
The future looms large on my mind these days. With much time for contemplation, I’ve connected previously disparate dots in my past and have found new clarity on the future I want to author. It all seems so obvious now, right in front of my eyes, but that’s how the truth works.
On Tuesday, I’m heading to The Mindfulness Project, a remote reforestation project in Northern Thailand for 2 weeks. I may not be able to write to you, but I will try my best.
✍️ quote i’m pondering:
English philosopher Aldous Huxley on treading lightly:
It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
There are quicksands all about you,
sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and
self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.
📸 photo i took:
Thank you for reading!
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You got all my love,
Tommy
Note, sacrifice is the same thing as commitment. You sacrifice for the things you're committed to. If you're not willing to sacrifice, you're not committed.
I'm using "place" loosely here. Not a physical or geographical area, but the spaces you occupy in the world (including relationships, jobs, cities, etc.)
Bearing the responsibility that comes with commitment takes courage. But out of courage, great things are created.
The alternative: committing to nothing, being subservient to nothing. Floating through life, a tyrant of your own head, with no place you belong.
Thanks for sharing your so deeply honest and personal thoughts and reflections as you move through life. It always helps me change or sharpen my thinking.
I agree with the overall sentiment of this essay. It's a really important message to be heard in our world that is, in many corners, becoming increasingly about quick hits and easy fixes. Commitment does make something special. This is obvious within ourselves: the fit person prides themselves on their body, the gardener prides themselves on their plants, the chef prides themselves on their food. Because of their commitment to those things, they eventually created something great. It was hard at moments but it became part of their identity. It is their rose.
Yet externally, we're really good at detaching and walking away from jobs, cities, and people. This line really resonated and drove home the reason why: "It’s even easier to think that any need for effort is a sign you chose wrong." We convince ourselves that if it's not a slice of cake, we made the wrong choice. But wasn't it hard when we started to get fit? Or killed all the plants in our first garden? Or set the smoke alarms off the first time we cooked?
The caveat I would add here is that although commitment makes something special, there are still good and bad choices. There is no perfect choice. But there are lots of bad ones. It takes knowing yourself to make the right commitment and then, once you have, the self-awareness to work on improving issues rather than walking away.
Amen, brother. I've learned this lesson more and more as I've gotten older. A great quote I've heard from a few sources over the years sums it up well - "the grass is greener where you water it". I've been trying to remember that more lately. Excellent essay, Tommy!