Re: Non-negotiables
Upon reading this post on Manu’s blog, I felt compelled to share my own thoughts. Manu explicitly invites such reflections at the end of his post.
He writes:
I started thinking about my non-negotiables: things I do that are—or at least should be—part of every day of my life that I am not willing to compromise on.
Before writing down my list, I want to highlight two key elements that frame this personal reflection. What does “non-negotiable” truly mean? It’s not about basic survival needs. It’s about certain comforts, the little (or significant) extras that, regardless of cost, underscore how fulfilling we perceive our lives to be. Adding more introduces luxuries—often something we can, but might not easily, get rid of. At this point, we should have reached our enough. I let Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin1 elaborate:
The word is enough. At the peak of the fullfillment curve we have enough. Enough necessities for our survival. Enough niceties for our comforts and pleasures. And even enough little “luxuries”. We have everything we need; there’s nothing extra to weigh us down, distract or distress us, nothing we’ve bought on credit, have never used, and are slaving to pay off. Enough is a fearless place. A trusting place.
What about everything else? It’s clutter, nothing more. Anything beyond our “enough” is clutter; anything, material or otherwise, that serves no real purpose is clutter; anything occupying space without clear reason is clutter.
Dominguez and Robin seem to imply that once we reach this point, it remains unchanged. I think it’s a crude approximation. My forthcoming list is an example: it’s certainly not a list I would have compiled three, five, or ten years ago. It reflects what now, at this stage of my journey, constitutes my enough.
Nature
And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.
John Muir
While I’m intrigued by the idea of living in a metropolis like New York, San Francisco, or London, I doubt I’d endure it long. At least twice a year, I need to escape for a week, roaming around with a backpack and a tent, and minimizing my dependencies of all sorts. This visceral need, which I liken to a physiological addiction, stems from last year’s memorable experience. I suspect it will never leave me.
Humans in real life
Meeting, conversing, and exchanging ideas with other humans in person is essential. I maintain a diverse range of relationships, some quite solid, primarily through digital means due to geographical constraints. However, I find myself feeling “half-formed” without enough onlife connections. This wasn’t the case 3–4 years ago, but it is now, and I admit I haven’t yet found a balance.
Challenge myself
I’m compelled to continually challenge what I’ve studied or believe I know. These often manifest as puzzles, deep questions connecting concepts, or sudden urges to study subjects I didn’t think interested me—and I’m very conscious such interest may vanish next year. It’s a personality trait, evident since childhood, characterized by relentless curiosity and a need to disassemble things to understand how they are built.
Physical books
I need physical bookshelves—a place isn’t “home” without paper books. Books I’ve read, want to read, should read but lack the courage, or might never read. The presence of words penned by others, across eras, and the ability to consult them when needed, is indispensable.
I turn Manu’s invitation to anyone reading this page who wants to share their thoughts. If you want to reach out, you know how.