I somehow innately believe that most things worth doing are probably hard.1 While this is a cliche and I don’t believe this has to be true, it explains some of my life choices. I feel like this could be a major reason I pursued a PhD. I knew, even as a college student, that I was after some sort of professional degree. But I chose the one that required a lot of hard work over a long period of time with no guarantee of a job. Luckily, it has all worked out(!) and part of the reason I feel like it has2 is because… as Ms. Celie announces to the world: dear god, I’m here.
This is not an essay about not quitting. Quit early and quit often I say! I quit tennis, I quit learning python.3 We should have the discernment to stop doing things that don’t serve us or make us happy.
No, this is an essay about endurance. About insisting upon one’s larger vision and figuring out how to make that shit happen.
Beyond the chance of attaining our goals, there is so much we come to know about ourselves when we commit to a long-term goal and its execution. We learn about ourselves under pressure— do we avoid the hard parts? Do we tackle them head-on? We learn about how we handle wins, big and small— do we celebrate? Or are we always on to the next thing?
Part of what it means to endure is knowing when to change course. A larger vision must allow space for creativity and flexibility. You never know how a different mode of pursuit could improve your path. It reminds me of some words that are important to a friend of mine, “I’m rooted, but I flow.”4 So maybe that means on a long jog, you try a new path to reinvigorate yourself. Maybe that means, with commitment to a broader vision, you put a piece of writing in a drawer to let your ideas percolate for a while before returning to it. Experimenting with the form of your ideas can be refreshing on a long journey.
What I draw from the concept of endurance, fundamentally, is simply insisting on one’s presence. YES, I am still here. It's the commitment to knowing that being there or using one’s voice is valuable (for yourself or for others). It is, as Austin Kleon writes, really loving your idea. That means protecting it from detractors and nurturing it with supporters.
As for me, I have always been protective about my ideas— sometimes to a fault. It is also necessary to be able to distinguish when someone is not for you and when someone is genuinely trying to make your shit better.5
Lastly, there’s a tense intersection between endurance and time. The pressure of time, of life being short, makes it difficult to determine when to endure and when to let go. But I say life is the longest thing we do. Give your dreams a chance to ebb and flow, rise, fall, fail, and grow into something else. Endure on your path, for five months or five years, simply because you never know where it could take you or how it could shape you.
Probably the compulsory Christianity
Apart from the structural— like parental support, no dependents, and great mentorship
Full disclosure, I sucked at both
The brilliant Agatha Slupek, friends. She symbolizes this phrase with roots and waves.
Community and care are the difference