Growth and Prosperity Are in the Hard, Mundane Things
Would you rather be a poor artist or a worn-out millionaire?
Growing up, I saw a different side of life. My demographic was hell on earth. Forty-two dead, and they’ll tell you no killer. Are we meant to believe they shared sniper within themselves like a bottle of Azul?
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Amid the hullabaloo, something stood out: people fled from things that stressed them. Nobody wanted to be caught unfresh. Now, we call it ‘steeze.’ So it means, interestingly, everyone assumed a false guise of steeze, that even a farmer, with his uniform soaked in all shades of mud, thinks he looks as dapper as Jason Derulo.
I read something on Quora yesterday. I won’t even lie, some of the best answers are gotten on the platform. I have a somewhat dormant account, I turn to it when I feel like reading something that could either make me smile or trigger me. I try my best to avoid the latter because there are answers you read on Quora that can make you bunkers.
The question I stumbled on was centered on psychology. I can’t remember the exact question, but it led to someone talking about the intersection between passion and leisure.
I love psychology — the bedrock of impactful writing. The art of persuasion is a subset of psychology. I mean, isn’t it interesting to learn how humans behave? Even though you can’t fully know someone, it doesn’t matter if you read 50 textbooks before graduating.
Oh, I remember the question now. Rebecca asked for advice concerning psychology. She had finished her studies, but she said the reality was shocking. There was a certain way she thought life after college would look like, but she’s not finding it easy, even though she’s been getting a few clients.
She mentioned four things:
- She feels so lost being a psychologist
- She thinks little help is given whenever she meets her clients
- The pay isn’t so satisfying
- Some of her clients are difficult to converse with.
I scrolled carefully with an iota of curiosity, hoping to find a Sean Kernan who could answer, and I found someone.
Ryan used his life as an example. He also studied psychology. He said psychology was his dream course, and while he doesn’t regret going for it instead of engineering, he fears that he might not reach his potential.
Why?
Psychology, for him, and I guess, many others, was a feel-good course. It made sense to be called a psychologist, he said, and I quote.
I don’t think I’ll survive by feeling good about what I studied.
What makes someone ever draw such a conclusion?
It’s because they know where the shoe pains. Though he chose the course, he still feels threatened living with the consequences of his choices.
Psychology, a feel-good course, has now become his greatest nightmare. And to make things worse, he’s not getting paid enough; something like a pat on the back of an apprentice by his master.
Ryan’s answer and Rebecca’s question, or better put, rant, taught me a great lesson: the life you’re looking for, your aspirations, aren’t achieved on the path of comfort. You have to settle for a water bed full of needles — and that’s the bed of discomfort.
The path of comfort is comforting. It just makes sense to dwell on it because it gives you peace, but if someone who claims to follow his passion can lament about money, then there’s fire on the mountain.
The path of discomfort is discomforting. It doesn’t make sense to dwell on it, because it feels like being stuck in a furnace — but, mind you, that’s where the life you crave is.
Ryan and Rebecca followed what they felt their life’s trajectory needed, but their aspirations didn’t correspond with the outcome, and that’s where the problem is.
The life they envision isn’t what a psychology degree provides
See, let’s be honest with ourselves — some of those things you like so much or are passionate about, won’t always pay the bills — and if you’re ever lucky enough to join the bandwagon, it might not even last. So what happens? Do you hate it with passion?
Growth and prosperity are in the hard, mundane things: those activities that annoy you or that course that bores you; if you think deeply, there’s fortune if you can stay on course.
So, what’s your choice? Would you rather be a poor artist or like Teni:
I’d rather be crying in a Bentley. Sipping on Hennessey. Drying all my tears with some $100 bills. Feeling down in Fendi. Sad, but I got plenty of money for the pain in the world.
