Life 2.0 diary - Mr Nobody experiment

‘Is it not uncomfortable being a nobody in the eyes of others?'

~1.5 years ago, I was out for a morning walk with a friend. I had recently finished my gap year@40. Instead of a grand plan for my 40s, I had decided to live in the present moment, led by what gives me energy and joy.

I thought of it as my life 2.0 experiment. To see whether this conclusion of living in the moment, borne in the suspended reality of a gap year, holds up in the messiness of real life?

As I arranged my life 2.0, I ended up in a place wherein there was no common ground between what I loved currently (relationships, health, investing, tennis journey) versus what would get publicly noticed. Hence the friend's question, 'Is it not uncomfortable being a nobody in the eyes of others?'

My first response was unexamined & quick, 'I am happy and don't care about being somebody in the eyes of others'. Hasty first responses, I have learnt over time, seldom reveal the full truth. Later, as the question rumbled in the background, my heart nudged me to embrace it with curiosity.

Thus began my 'Mr Nobody' experiment.

A silent life experiment to live without any public identity till I decide otherwise. My emotional discomfort would be my ally. Holding clues to the knots yet unresolved.

The first salvos were expected and familiar. The excitement of a gap year to discover 'what's next' had been replaced by bafflement in the eyes of many when, after the gap year, instead of announcing a profound life transformation or a new venture, I had decided to just live in the moment.

It seemed an anti-climax. No ambitious life plans. No new venture. Nothing to make a difference. You are just living your private life. Anyone can do it. What is special about it?

Then, there were the kids. My eight-year-old daughter wondered, 'What do I really do?', 'When will I become famous so she can tell her friends that her dad is famous for something?'. I decided to not make her life any easier. I just mirrored her question, 'Yes, I can see that you would like to tell your friends that your dad is famous'. She soon lost interest in the conversation and sauntered to her next Lego game.

And then there was me. I felt guilty of focusing only on what felt right to me. What about putting more heart and soul into kicking off the social entrepreneurship venture I had dreamt of for almost a decade? Why was I unable to summon the energy to get going?

I felt the temptation to jump to the next public identity. This tug was a different beast from money. Money was tangible. Something that you could look in the eye and wrestle with. The need to be somebody had an invisible pull. It drove to the core of your sense of self-worth.

Should I arrange my life differently and let this anxiety melt away? All I have to do is choose a socially accepted and understood identity from one of my passion areas (to be a writer, investor, teacher, social entrepreneur, etc.), and voila, all is well again. Or should I stay in the zone of discomfort till I better understand this invisible force trying to pull me back from the life I wanted to lead now?

I decided to stay in the zone of discomfort. While I might pursue my passion areas at some point, I want to choose whether, when, where and with whom I should do it. The element of choice is critical.

And to choose freely, I have to understand this invisible urge better. Why do we feel so strongly the need to be somebody in the eyes of others?

I decided to move from the abstract WE to the personal I to answer this. To understand myself to understand the world.

I started by asking myself, 'Who are these 'others' & how do they stack up versus key stakeholders in my life's priorities?'

It took almost a year to articulate without guilt what I had always felt.

My first priority is myself. I am a unit of the world, similar to everyone else. If I don't take accountability to nurture my physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health, how can I be of use to others?

My second priority is my primary dependencies. The people who give birth to us, who we marry and the people we bring into this world, i.e. parents, spouses and kids. The relationships easiest to take for granted until something breaks. If I don't attend to my roles here as a son, husband and father, nobody will.

My third priority is close friends and family. The precious relationships picked over a lifetime wherein you as a person matter more than your public identity.

My fourth priority is everyone else in the world, i.e., others - These might include complete strangers and people I am very lightly acquainted with. To be famous is to be known by strangers whom you don't know ( i.e. others).

So far, so good. But where is the tension?

In an ideal world, I can do justice to all four life priorities simultaneously. But if I can't, how should I choose?

That's where the tension lies.

In how we often choose.

We borrow from the first three priorities to provide fuel for the 4th priority.

Why? Because the first three priorities (self, primary relationships, close friends and family) have only private meaning, whereas the 4th priority is publicly valued.

Private meaning versus public recognition? It's a trade-off more complex than we admit.

This trade-off works, at least in the short term. We feel good when others see us as somebody. In comparison, there is no immediate penalty even if the first three priorities wither in shadows.

Until there is a crisis! In health or relationships.

Suddenly, life comes into perspective, and we realise we were irreplaceable in the first three priorities.

I understood all of this intellectually earlier also. But it always came with a tinge of guilt. Of feeling selfish. Of focusing on oneself ahead of serving others. I recall my whirlwind sabbatical in 2011, crisscrossing the world and meeting fascinating people who had switched from corporate life to make a difference. I was especially impressed by the social entrepreneurs who burnt with a searing intensity to make a difference. 1st and 4th priorities (self and others) had merged for them.

I admired them. I wanted to be like them.

But I could not bring myself to make a switch.

During the Life 2.0 experiment, I finally understood why.

I realised that I need to admit who I am as a person. I don’t feel at peace attending to the 4th priority unless I have first attended to what I am uniquely accountable for (the first three priorities).

The real progress in the life 2.0 experiment is to arrive at this conclusion without guilt. To acknowledge what seems right to me without judging or feel judged by those who choose otherwise. If it comes at the cost of appearing as a nobody in the eyes of others, so be it.

This insight sparked curiosity to probe other long-held beliefs.

One such notion is of leaving behind a legacy. I have realised that leaving behind a legacy is not for others (How much do you know about your great-grandparents? We are just two generations away from being forgotten). It is rather our rage against our finitude, our insignificance. The Cosmic insignificance therapy (Oliver Burkeman) is a valuable cure.

The other notion is of making a difference. As I examine my life journey since my first sabbatical in 2011 (searching ways to make a difference, focused on external causes) to the current life 2.0 experiment (focusing on what is real and now around me), I can see the allure of the abstract, how it fired up my imagination & made me feel special even in the absence of any concrete action. Meanwhile, the choice to focus on the real and now serves up work. Everyday routine work. In the shadows of home. Meanings, if any, only privately constructed and preciously held within.

It's no wonder what P. J. O'Rourk said, 'Everybody wants to save the earth. Nobody wants to help Mom do the dishes’.

How do I reconcile these thoughts with a lingering desire to be still useful beyond my private world?

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, 'The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.'

Despite lacking first-rate intelligence, I find it a helpful way to think about my dilemma.

I still want to be useful to others in the world, but I have learned to ask myself three questions,

1) Am I dealing with my unique responsibilities for my first three priorities?

2) Is it clear that I am doing it for myself?

3) Am I clear that I have no control over whether my act will end up helping others or not? That is for the receiver to determine, not mine to judge.

"If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is tied up with mine, then let us work together (Lilla Watson)".

As I fumbled through ‘Mr Nobody’ experiment over the last ~1.5 years, I also realised I missed writing.

I had chosen not to publish anything as part of the 'Mr Nobody' experiment. I was still journaling almost every day. Yet, there is something deeply satisfying about the process of finishing a piece of writing. Especially the last 20% when familiar ideas connect surprisingly to reveal new insights about something you thought you had fully understood earlier. And then there is the fun of bouncing off ideas with fellow travellers.

Why deny myself something that I enjoy doing?

And then it slowly dawned on me.

This quest to be a Nobody is as much a trap as the quest to be Somebody. The primary reference frame in both is still external, 'to be or not to be in the eyes of others'.

So what have I learnt at the end of this ‘Mr Nobody’ experiment?

When I stop caring about being Mr somebody or worrying about being Mr nobody, only then I become free to be anybody in life!

I love hearing from you. Do share your comments if anything resonates or just to say hello as a friend:)

Cheers,

Sameer Srivastav

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