On Convenience, Flourishing, and the (Sometimes Difficult) Good Life

I woke up at 6 am on Saturday morning, after a full week at work. I rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and took a large coffee into my office. I spent the next six hours reading, writing, and studying. I scribbled notes in the margins of academic papers and lost all sense of time. I did this most weekends, both Saturday and Sunday, for six years.

Eventually, I graduated with a degree, a masters, and a career already underway. But something interesting happened. Without those long mornings spent in deep work, I felt lost. Saturday mornings became a haze, Sundays were spent grieving Saturday, and Mondays were spent back at work.

Convenience culture would have us believe that the second scenario - the free weekend once I’d finally graduated - is the more desirable one. But the truth is that the first scenario was far more satisfying. I was tired, yes, but I was also learning and deeply engaged. 

Studying was one of the most tiring, difficult, and fulfilling things that I’ve ever done. How could this be?

Eudaimonia

My recent obsession with human flourishing has led me all the way back to the ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle. Aristotle conceptualised Eudaimonia, a term that describes living well through rational activity and virtue over the course of a lifetime. Today, we think of this as human flourishing. From my reading, I see it as comprising the following three ideas.

• The human function: what we humans are uniquely positioned to do as a species, and how performing this brings us satisfaction. For Aristotle, the human function is reasoning, exercising rational choice, and choosing how to act.
• Virtuous practice: the habituation of virtue. For example, actively practising kindness, bravery, or courage in order to become good.
• Logic and balance: using logic to avoid doing too much or too little of something, as each has adverse effects, while recognising that “balance” is inherently context-dependent.

What does this actually look like?

When I think about my studies, I can categorise it into function, practice, and balance...

• Function: I learned about theories and concepts and used them as evidence to inform my own positioning.
• Virtuous Practice: I practiced courage by risking failure and friendliness by building relationships with peers.
• Balance: I wasn’t studying all the time or none of it. I took each assessment as it came and balanced my time across my studies, career, and personal life.

In other words, I was flourishing. 

Studying was hard; it challenged me in many ways. I had to carve out time to do it, tackle difficult and complex assessments, accept a bad grade and choose to learn from it, and navigate relationships with tutors and peers. It was hard, focused work, and I flourished while doing it.

Unique contribution

I would add something additional to the concepts above, something that has often given me a deeper sense of meaning in my life. That is our unique contribution. Or in other words, the human experiences that have amalgamated to make you, you.

We’re all unique, like living fingerprints, and that allows us to contribute, in both large and small ways, to the world around us. Whether it’s a particular skill we picked up in childhood that we teach another in adulthood, or standing on a stage and sharing our story, we all have something unique to offer.

My own unique contribution is to help others learn and live well. It’s unique against the backdrop of my life experiences, struggles, studies, career in Higher Education, and fascination with technology and humanity. This contribution is not easy, nor is it convenient, but it’s meaningful, and it’s mine. 

What does this all mean?

More often than not, struggling with the right things at the right time leads to growth, particularly if framed well. It’s why so many people sign up to run marathons even when a car could get them from A to B much faster. It’s not that they want to struggle; it’s that they value the growth that the struggle brings. The car breeds convenience, but the marathon breeds endurance, discipline, embodiment, and persistence. But even marathon runners wouldn’t run everywhere all the time, and so they use balance, whether consciously or unconsciously.  

But not everyone should run a marathon; it’s only that the runner, through their experiences, values, and judgement, has deemed the marathon worthwhile. 

Those who run marathons often have reasons for doing so that exceed the simple value of endurance. They may want to be a good role model to their children, inspire others, raise money for charity, or create new connections with other runners. These are their unique contributions, the outwardly facing purpose behind what they are doing.

My point is this: conveniences that support flourishing are good, but struggles that support flourishing are also good. What we need is a balance between them and enough self-awareness to recognise our unique contribution. In doing so, we may give ourselves and others a fighting chance at flourishing. 

This thinking is part of my broader work on human flourishing. I’m currently developing a framework that explores the relationship between flourishing and technology. More to come soon!