Can You Believe That You Can Live? (psychiatrists hate him)

I’ve written quite a lot about the spending of time. For example, the fact that I would rather walk for an hour to go downtown than take the ten-minute bus ride. Or how I walk twenty minutes to work (plus an additional four minutes just so I can take the forest path) rather than riding a bike/scooter or taking the bus. Meanwhile, so many people around me are stressed. “I’m busy” is something I’ve been hearing a lot. Yes, working eight hours a day takes a lot of time and energy. Yes, there is a lot of other “stuff” that needs to be done, other obligations, etc. But are you happy? The answer is usually no. I’m repeating myself yet again, the same topic as always: “Are other people happy?” “No.” That’s not my point, though.

When I have time off, I walk. I take pictures. I read a lot. I write a lot. I’ve come to the point where I don’t like being in front of my computer any more. I would rather talk to someone. I am very fortunate that one of my roommates is much the same, to an extent; we walk and talk a lot. What I’m trying to say is that I spend my time doing what I want to do — if I can. I can’t always, but I try. That’s why I left my entire life behind. Twice. To move to a small country without so much as a place to live. Alone. Twice.

To put it simply, I’m frustrated. I know what it’s like to have nothing at all. So when I see other people with something at all who are unhappy, I feel like they don’t have any right to be unhappy. It’s a difficult feeling to express. I suppose it’s like someone who knows true starvation watching someone complain about a meal. It feels almost like they’re entitled. Self-righteous, even. In my case, it was a starvation of other people. Does nobody realize how much it actually means to have just one other person they can count on in their lives? Or to have just one person they can enjoy spending time with?

I was shocked when I moved in with my four roommates in this small, cramped apartment. I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the table in the small kitchen. Everyone else took their food to their room. I spoke with one of my roommates a total of one time before she moved out. One time in two months. Do you not want to get to know the people you live with? Would you not sit in the kitchen… and avoid the very people you live with? Why? One of my other roommates still does the same. I’ve exchanged a few sentences with her. I’ve had a total of zero conversations with her in three months. I won’t bother attempting to understand the why.

Are we not in this together? That’s why I went to Istanbul where I made a room of diplomats cry — one of my proudest achievements. I spoke to a Russian Duma in February to share similar ideas: we’re just humans. My coworkers don’t like Icelandic people. We live in Iceland. I can’t quite comprehend that, either. “They could be more polite.” Personally, I really couldn’t care less. Nobody is obligated to do anything. It’s not like they’re rude if they don’t say thank you. Rude would be being unreasonable, like the tourists who complain about ridiculous things or expect us workers to be their servants.

Then everyone posts on social media. “Look at me,” they say. “Look at my life,” they say. Why? I use Instagram. I share videos of rabbits and trees on my story. I do it because the only people I follow and that follow me are people I know in real life, mostly. When I post to my Instagram story, it’s not a matter of “look at me,” it’s a matter of “I saw a rabbit today, and this lake is nice.” I wrote the following in my coming book which is aimed at social media:

Validation. To seek it is to die.

Plain and simple. Here’s another:

For what do you seek the input of others? For what do you share yourself with the world? What is it that you seek? What is it that you go without? Do you take no pride in who you are? Do you find no solace in your reflection? Must the world be your mirror? Must they dictate your perception of self? I have seen you. I have known you. I know that you are good. Is that not enough? Because the world is blind.

The moment your sense of self-worth, value of accomplishments, or even enjoyment of life events starts coming from other people’s perspectives, you have died. The entire point of my second book is that other people are both everything and nothing. They are everything in that human interaction makes us… human. They are nothing in that what anyone else says or does is utterly meaningless. “You’re ugly.” Who cares? “I don’t like you.” Good for you. “You look great today.” Thank you for the compliment. The point is this: don’t ask, "Do you like me?” Don’t ask, “How do I look today?” Instead, live.

And if life becomes too much, with too many obligations, too much going on, too much that is a struggle to get through, then guess what? You don’t have to do it. Or you can do it later. Or you can ask for help. Or, best of all, you get up and go for a walk. But why would anyone bother to do that when they have a car? When life is all about “next, next, next, next, next, progress, progress, progress”? I try to read for two hours each and every day. I get up early. I go to stores the moment they open. I’m consistent and keep a schedule because there are things I want to do. Like read. Or do laundry. I get it all done so I don’t have to do anything. I got up at 7am today. I did laundry and went shopping before working a 12-8pm shift. I did it early so I could come home and not do it then. Instead, on the way home, I walked through the forest and took a video of rabbits, then came home and wrote these words. Because I can. Because I felt like it.

Again the same as I usually write: “Am I happy?” “No, I’m not.” “But I’m not unhappy.” But I am happy to experience simple things, coming from nothing. Like working a job many people find boring. It is often boring. But I’m happy to do it because I get to talk to great coworkers. I get to meet people, get to know them. It has nothing to do with the work itself. I’m glad to live in this small, cramped apartment because it means I get to live in Iceland. It isn’t comfortable. I’m not happy to be in it. But I’m not at all unhappy.

What do I even want in life? I don’t know. What are my goals? I don’t know. What will I do tomorrow? I have no idea. What are my plans for the year? Nothing at all. And I really don’t care. I have not one stress in the world. There is not one thing that bothers me. There are things I want, things I wish could be. But does it weigh on me? Not really. And why is that? Because I’ve been to the lowest point. I now know which way is up. Just like I know the things that bring us down. It’s really that simple. We suffer until we realize that the reason we suffer is that we feel suffering. To say that another way, the key to life is this:

If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. If you do want to do it, then do it. If it makes you unhappy, then stop. If you think it would make you happy, then try it out. Forget your attachments and live a life. If you’re unhappy, it’s because you drove to work instead of walking. And if you can’t walk to work, it’s time to give up life as you know it and move to another country (where you can walk) with no plan whatsoever.

It does not matter at all. You might not know anyone. You might not have any money. You might not have a job lined up. You might not have a place to live. You might not speak the language. You might not know anything about the culture. So… who cares? Would you rather keep living the same day over and over again when that day makes you unhappy? Or, would you rather try something different — because you can?

I do understand the difficulty of changing mindsets. How we interpret the world is ingrained in us from our childhood. It requires immense effort to gain self-awareness to the extent of separating the “me” from the “mind.” When someone brushes past me with a “hi” in response to my greeting, my mind says, “they must not like me.” But I can acknowledge that’s just my mind doing whatever it does. By becoming aware of that, I’ve managed to change every single aspect of my life for the better — every single aspect of me. Obviously there’s a lot more work to do, but I moved to a new country, made a great group of friends, found a place to live, and got an amazing job. I did it all on my own. And just one year ago, I was incapable of stepping foot outside my own apartment. In one year, I went from being lost and incapable to having a life. Not a full life quite yet. But a life: much better than the nothing I had before.

All I’m trying to say with this post is that if you’re lost, if you’re unhappy, if you don’t know what you want or what you’re doing, then what you need is change. You need to want change. Wanting it is the hardest part. It’s best to throw yourself into the unknown headfirst. And if you know that something is, in fact, bothering you, then get rid of it. Who cares if the job pays well if it makes you unhappy. Who cares about the nice apartment if your life leaves you miserable in it. Who cares if you’re reaching your goals if you find yourself overwhelmed to tears by the stress of it all. Who cares about anything, really. Nobody except for you. And if other people are doing anything that bothers you, that’s on you, too.

Life is a burden that we are forced to bear. We didn’t ask for it. But for whatever reason, nobody seems to understand that you can just set it down and take a rest for a minute. Or forever, if you want. Nobody is making you do anything. I left my life sitting on the side of a mountain in Utah. It was a great burden all those years. I’ve never felt better. Even if the work itself is boring, I now get paid well to hang out and have fun with my coworkers for eight hours. To nobody’s surprise, you wouldn’t know such things were possible unless you went looking for them… went looking very, very far away from where you stand right now. I’m also learning Finnish at the same time I’m learning Icelandic. Because I can. If you haven’t gotten the point yet: you can, too. If you don’t believe me, come take a walk with me in Reykjavík and I’ll show you myself, free of charge.