‘What Matters?’
CAERS Substack Article #79
What really matters to you? There is a wonderful exercise in which participants are asked to rank the top 10 ‘things’ in their life that they would not want to be without. They are then asked to remove these things one at a time until there is only one remaining. These things might include a job, a material possession, or an ability to play a sport or a musical instrument for example. Of course, things like health, family and friends are likely in the mix for most of us as well. More abstract things like integrity or a satisfying spiritual life may also compete for inclusion. It’s a tougher exercise than you might think, and it really makes you reflect on what is most important in your life.
A complementary exercise involves asking what ten things you would like to have that you do not have already, or would like more of? I suspect that in responding to either of these challenges we are commenting about what we believe constitutes a life well-lived.
When I was in medical practice, it seemed as though having a long life was one of the more important things for many people, perhaps because it is so quantifiable. How do we compare quantity of life with quality of life? That’s a critical question when it comes to most medical decisions. How much in the way of adverse effects from a medication are you willing to tolerate to extend your life? Or how much risk of death from a surgical procedure are you prepared to accept in order to improve the quality of your life? These types of questions are not always easy to answer.
When it comes to the two exercises above, to a large degree we are talking about values. If you were or are famous, how difficult would it be to give that up? If you are not, how much are you willing to sacrifice to obtain it? Where does integrity fit on your list? Or resiliency? Or ability to face reality with equanimity, accepting the good along with the bad? Or self-discipline?
It is surprising how often both of the top ten lists tend to get weeded down to exclude material things; sometimes the things that are most treasured aren’t ‘things’ at all. Relationships are often of much greater importance than physical objects, for example. People commonly value their autonomy or their ability to have a positive disposition more so than sensory experiences.
It is interesting to inquire as to whether the items on either list bear any resemblance to what one might like to have said about them at their funeral. What would you like those in attendance at your celebration of life recall about you? Your financial wealth? Your athletic ability? Your accomplishments? Your family? Your character strengths? Your love?
On deeper reflection, does it make sense that the two lists might mirror your funeral aspirations? That the things that matter most to you now should likely be reflected in the recollections of friends and family once you are gone? How often does that happen? Do we sometimes prioritize things in life that won’t even be mentioned once we leave this worldly realm? If so, does that give us pause as to how better to formulate our top ten lists while we still can?
There is clearly a difference between inanimate objects, like a mountain, and living things, like us. The former are not capable of self-directed growth; they are changed by forces acting outside of them. The latter are quite the opposite in this regard—living things are capable of utilizing energy to guide their evolution. Humans in particular can grow, have resiliency and can repair themselves. Given that stark difference, should ‘things’ that reflect our growth and personal evolution be put higher on our lists than inanimate objects and adventures, and be the focus of our eulogies as well?
The pandemic has been a challenge for many of us in a wide variety of ways. For example, our ability to experience the usual sensory stimulation of travel, exciting adventures, going out for entertainment or a meal, were all very restricted. But in return, many of us slowed down and reflected more about life and what really matters. Perhaps we appreciated relationships, even via electronic formats, more than we did in the past. We may have lost some friends but gained others with whom we now have a deeper connection. Maybe we found more meaning in our lives: what gets us out of bed in the morning, fills us with enthusiasm and makes us feel that we are needed and loved. In other words, that we matter to someone else and make a positive difference in the world.
Some of us no doubt made sacrifices to follow our deeply-held values during the pandemic: putting the health of others above our own needs, or speaking up and asking questions that were not popular to ask. In doing so we likely followed our moral compass that tells us what constitutes a life well-lived. I suspect that one of the best ways to engage in either of the exercises above would involve using our moral compass. Whenever I have attended wakes or funerals, almost invariably the recollections of those in attendance tended to be about the content of the character of the deceased; how important an impact they had on the lives of others, not about the things they had or the places they had been.
Now that life is returning more to ‘normal’, it might be a good time to reflect upon lessons learned from the pandemic with respect to what is really important: what matters a lot and what doesn’t matter nearly so much. Things like integrity, truth-telling and truth-seeking, transparency, compassion, empathy and open-mindedness strike me as good starting points. It is not surprising for the most social species on the planet that all of these revolve around how we treat one another, ethics. When we each draw up our own top ten lists, we might be wise to keep that in mind.
J. Barry Engelhardt MD (retired) MHSc (bioethics)
CAERS Health Intake Facilitator