This past weekend I ventured past the computer, past the front door, past the streets and the buildings of New York, past the suburbs, past the small towns in Upstate New York, and into the Catskill Mountains. I went hiking on a very difficult trail called “Devils Path” by Tannersville, New York. We arrived at 12am and, with our headlamps, hiked to the first peak
It was at the top of the first peak, looking out at the lights from the small towns, the mountains visible by moonlight, and the few clouds that hung about the sky, that I noticed I was far from my world. My world currently consists of a large, shabby apartment in Brooklyn and a Federal Courthouse on Long Island. In between those two, I’ve found a half-world on the LIRR. But these, day in and day out, fill what I call my life, and for that I am grateful. But I understand the extent to which they are limiting. My situation could be much worse. I know many people who spend most of their waking life in front of a computer at a desk in an office. One can imagine the lack of real world stimulation, and cnn.com doesn’t count.
I propose that a limited routine, if not understood in the context of life, can become a health threat and long-term crisis. First, in keeping one’s world small, one misunderstands the relevance of his or her situation. For example, the people who enjoy Dunkin’ Donuts each morning forget that there are others, standing on the same Earth, who, by mere chance, were born into a situation where water is a privilege. They forget all the details that make our world possible. We begin to take life for granted. In doing so, forgetting the rest and focusing on the few, we box ourselves in mentally and physically. This often leads to depression and the fear that any given night we might just fall asleep and wake up thirty years later without really doing anything we wanted to. The illusion our small worlds paint for us seem to lie in wait, until we are old and a bit wiser, at which time they spring up and our mid-life crises set in.
There are some great counterarguments to this point. One argument is that those who are very focused are often the leaders in their fields, the ones who truly represent achievement. I would contend that those who truly enjoy their work actually maintain a much deeper understanding of life because they are more in tune with their dreams, that their mind’s hunger is never crippled, but rather satisfied and expanded with each new discovery, each project they finish. Another argument is that, to a certain extent (and this is certainly true for law students), we limit our routine because it will pay off one day. Concededly, this is the strongest challenge I face. If anyone has any rebuttals now would be the time to voice them. My reservation stems from my belief that this problem is rooted in the structure of American society, specifically, a lack in creative education, but let’s save this for another discussion.
Second, a limited routine cripples the mind’s unusual ability to dream. My assertion depends on the assumption that our minds cannot create something that is absolutely new, meaning, we cannot form an image if we have never seen an image before. Simply put, a limited routine stifles one’s dreams. I believe that all dreams are derivatives of experiences we have actually had. Therefore, if we limit our experiences, we limit our dreams.
To state it clearly, I propose that a limited routine is harmful, but only if one fails to understand the context of one’s life. So how does one understand the context? One option would be to ensure our life is speckled with thoughtful catalysts, such as the one I described above. Any input would be appreciated.