Maybe it’s unsurprising that a guy who spent much of his life as an anthropologist should be a relativist. It gets iffy for some people when I spout that it’s not just one way. But take for example, the idea of “having it all.” What it all meant at seventeen is vastly different than a take on it at thirty-seven. At seventeen, I was playing my first gigs in low-end coffeehouses, and I wanted gigs in the better quality ones. At thirty-six, I wanted my doctorate in anthropology—just a tiny difference.
OK, I’ll fess up. Every once in a while, I’m the seventeen-year-old wanting to be on stage.
For me, life is like a giant, old-fashioned steamer trunk, a portmanteau. The trunk is so big—it’s one of those giant ones from the 19th century made out of teak. It must be that big because it holds many of my old hopes and aspirations. A simple kit bag would never hold the desire of “having it all” after hiking the entire Appalachian Trail, sailing the Caribean, and bumming around those parts of North America I’ve missed ( and that’s plenty!). It includes little things. When I was a kid, and the flute was the first instrument I was trying to master, up to wanting to be a great guitarist.
I suggest we all refuse to settle for one concept of having it all. Be expansive. For me, all those lists of perfection are the grist for the mill. It’s not about where I’ve been but where I may be going.
OK, my aspirations about female movie stars from when I was seventeen are embarrassing and childish.
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Seldom does “having it all” resemble society (or media’s) version of it. I’m with you.
I think the idea of having it all is really weird since we usually don’t know what “all” even is.
You are right. But that doesn’t stop people from limiting their vision by imposing artificial limts and conditions.
Love your analogy.
If only we knew what exactly “having it all” means.