In her column “Someone Said,” Coco Zhou ’30 shares meaningful conversations that provoked reflection or have been particularly inspiring.
A poem by Rudyard Kipling begins, “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs … If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you … If you can wait and not be tired by waiting …”
This poem, “If—,” came up during a conversation with my art history professor Jody Maxmin during the first week of school. She shared it with me as a source of advice after I confessed to being overwhelmingly lost in the frenzy of opportunities being thrown at me. Since coming to Stanford, I often experience this self-doubt of missing out on what others seem to be doing successfully. I catch myself thinking: if I’d applied to that club, picked that class, talked to that person, then I too would have my life as figured out as so-and-so. This temptation to look outwards never seems to fade.
A friend recently shared that one of his close friends had won a prestigious computer science competition. He confessed to me, “I’m happy for him and all, but it just makes me think that, if I’d also participated, I would be on that podium with his team.” I was initially surprised at such a thought, since I didn’t think he was particularly passionate about computer science and wouldn’t have enjoyed the experience as much as his friend did. He was probably smart enough to win if he put in the time, but would it have been worth the effort if it wasn’t something he was interested in?
For some reason, this logic was easy to apply to someone else’s situation, but committing to living it myself is tough. I am accustomed to wanting to quantify success.
Coming into college as high achievers, we want to define a new set of standards and goals to work towards as quickly as possible. In high school, it was applying to that prestigious summer program and getting that club leadership position that would get us into college. But now what? GPA alone doesn’t secure our next internship, and there are too many classes to pick from to know which ones will set us on the “right” track. So naturally, we look towards other people who seem like they have things figured out and try to copy what they do. Our brains are wired to find the “right” answer by replicating known methods, just like in math. But life doesn’t work linearly like that.
This desire to be in control of outcomes is universal and timeless. I watched Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” this summer and appreciated how Odysseus’ attempts to control his fate are viewed as arrogance, even though he means well and is trying to save his crewmen. Are we being presumptuous, in a way, when we want to take control of our lives by replicating success? Do we spend enough time slowing down to listen to what fate has in store for us? I found it insightful that after 10 years lost, only when Odysseus lets go of the steering wheel does he finally achieve his goal of returning home. Maybe we could all benefit from listening more to the natural flow, just as Odysseus eventually learns to do.
When my doubts creep in, I try to remind myself why I chose not to get involved in things. Maybe that club didn’t match my interests, that class would’ve taken away time from something else I’m pursuing, that person felt too pretentious for me to want to befriend. Just because someone else did something that felt right to them doesn’t mean I need to do the same to find that same satisfaction.
Individuals are inherently unique, and our lives are supposed to be unpredictable. Simply copying what seems to have brought others “happiness” could cost us the chance to live the lives we’re meant for. I will leave with an echo of Kipling’s advice: keep your head up, trust yourself, be patient.