HUNTER S. THOMPSON ON FINDING YOUR PURPOSE

In April of 1958, a 22 year-old Hunter S. Thompson wrote a letter on the meaning of life when asked by a friend for advice. What makes his response all the more profound is the fact that at the time, the world had no idea that he would become one of the most important writers of the 20th century. Therefore his beliefs about purpose were hypothetical—they were statements of faith.

But if it’s true that our beliefs really do become our reality, then there’s no better example of a life fully realised than the one of Hunter S. Thompson. Let his perspective inspire you:

…

April 22, 1958

57 Perry Street

New York City

Dear Hume,

You ask advice: ah, what a very human and very dangerous thing to do! For to give advice to a man who asks what to do with his life implies something very close to egomania. To presume to point a man to the right and ultimate goal — to point with a trembling finger in the RIGHT direction is something only a fool would take upon himself.

I am not a fool, but I respect your sincerity in asking my advice. I ask you though, in listening to what I say, to remember that all advice can only be a product of the man who gives it. What is truth to one may be disaster to another. I do not see life through your eyes, nor you through mine. If I were to attempt to give you specific advice, it would be too much like the blind leading the blind.

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles … ” (Shakespeare)

And indeed, that IS the question: whether to float with the tide, or to swim for a goal. It is a choice we must all make consciously or unconsciously at one time in our lives. So few people understand this! Think of any decision you’ve ever made which had a bearing on your future: I may be wrong, but I don’t see how it could have been anything but a choice however indirect — between the two things I’ve mentioned: the floating or the swimming.

But why not float if you have no goal? That is another question. It is unquestionably better to enjoy the floating than to swim in uncertainty. So how does a man find a goal? Not a castle in the stars, but a real and tangible thing. How can a man be sure he’s not after the “big rock candy mountain,” the enticing sugar-candy goal that has little taste and no substance?

The answer — and, in a sense, the tragedy of life — is that we seek to understand the goal and not the man. We set up a goal which demands of us certain things: and we do these things. We adjust to the demands of a concept which CANNOT be valid. When you were young, let us say that you wanted to be a fireman. I feel reasonably safe in saying that you no longer want to be a fireman. Why? Because your perspective has changed. It’s not the fireman who has changed, but you. Every man is the sum total of his reactions to experience. As your experiences differ and multiply, you become a different man, and hence your perspective changes. This goes on and on. Every reaction is a learning process; every significant experience alters your perspective.

So it would seem foolish, would it not, to adjust our lives to the demands of a goal we see from a different angle every day? How could we ever hope to accomplish anything other than galloping neurosis?

The answer, then, must not deal with goals at all, or not with tangible goals, anyway. It would take reams of paper to develop this subject to fulfillment. God only knows how many books have been written on “the meaning of man” and that sort of thing, and god only knows how many people have pondered the subject. (I use the term “god only knows” purely as an expression.) There’s very little sense in my trying to give it up to you in the proverbial nutshell, because I’m the first to admit my absolute lack of qualifications for reducing the meaning of life to one or two paragraphs.

I’m going to steer clear of the word “existentialism,” but you might keep it in mind as a key of sorts. You might also try something called “Being and Nothingness” by Jean-Paul Sartre, and another little thing called “Existentialism: From Dostoyevsky to Sartre.” These are merely suggestions. If you’re genuinely satisfied with what you are and what you’re doing, then give those books a wide berth. (Let sleeping dogs lie.) But back to the answer. As I said, to put our faith in tangible goals would seem to be, at best, unwise. So we do not strive to be firemen, we do not strive to be bankers, nor policemen, nor doctors. WE STRIVE TO BE OURSELVES.

But don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean that we can’t BE firemen, bankers, or doctors — but that we must make the goal conform to the individual, rather than make the individual conform to the goal. In every man, heredity and environment have combined to produce a creature of certain abilities and desires — including a deeply ingrained need to function in such a way that his life will be MEANINGFUL. A man has to BE something; he has to matter.

As I see it then, the formula runs something like this: a man must choose a path which will let his ABILITIES function at maximum efficiency toward the gratification of his DESIRES. In doing this, he is fulfilling a need (giving himself identity by functioning in a set pattern toward a set goal), he avoids frustrating his potential (choosing a path which puts no limit on his self-development), and he avoids the terror of seeing his goal wilt or lose its charm as he draws closer to it (rather than bending himself to meet the demands of that which he seeks, he has bent his goal to conform to his own abilities and desires).

In short, he has not dedicated his life to reaching a pre-defined goal, but he has rather chosen a way of life he KNOWS he will enjoy. The goal is absolutely secondary: it is the functioning toward the goal which is important. And it seems almost ridiculous to say that a man MUST function in a pattern of his own choosing; for to let another man define your own goals is to give up one of the most meaningful aspects of life — the definitive act of will which makes a man an individual.

Let’s assume that you think you have a choice of eight paths to follow (all pre-defined paths, of course). And let’s assume that you can’t see any real purpose in any of the eight. THEN — and here is the essence of all I’ve said — you MUST FIND A NINTH PATH.

Naturally, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. You’ve lived a relatively narrow life, a vertical rather than a horizontal existence. So it isn’t any too difficult to understand why you seem to feel the way you do. But a man who procrastinates in his CHOOSING will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.

So if you now number yourself among the disenchanted, then you have no choice but to accept things as they are, or to seriously seek something else. But beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life. But you say, “I don’t know where to look; I don’t know what to look for.”

And there’s the crux. Is it worth giving up what I have to look for something better? I don’t know — is it? Who can make that decision but you? But even by DECIDING TO LOOK, you go a long way toward making the choice.

If I don’t call this to a halt, I’m going to find myself writing a book. I hope it’s not as confusing as it looks at first glance. Keep in mind, of course, that this is MY WAY of looking at things. I happen to think that it’s pretty generally applicable, but you may not. Each of us has to create our own credo — this merely happens to be mine.

If any part of it doesn’t seem to make sense, by all means call it to my attention. I’m not trying to send you out “on the road” in search of Valhalla, but merely pointing out that it is not necessary to accept the choices handed down to you by life as you know it. There is more to it than that — no one HAS to do something he doesn’t want to do for the rest of his life. But then again, if that’s what you wind up doing, by all means convince yourself that you HAD to do it. You’ll have lots of company.

And that’s it for now. Until I hear from you again, I remain,

your friend,

Hunter

http://yourfriendshouse.com/uncategorised/hunter-s-thompson-on-finding-your-purpose/

The road not taken…again!

I am 35 and I think I am having a mid-life crisis. I am not sad in any degree, just perplexed. The “crisis” is related to my career as well as my personal life, both of which are going well, so I ask myself why I call it a “crisis”. Maybe it is not a crisis, it is a definitely a dilemma! I have been here before, not this exact choice, but at such cross-roads. It is one of those times when life presents you with a fork in the road, and where choosing something, invariably also means giving up something…probably something you love.

First off, I just finished my PhD from a prestigious institution. The plan, as I told everyone, was to get an academic job. Though, in my mind, it was to have some stay-at-home work time to be with my kid as he was really young. Now, I have a 9 month contract academic job filling in for a sabbatical that ends in September and I have realised, I don’t like teaching. I give out so much free advice to everyone who asks, I had thought it would be my dream job. It isn't. Turns out, I don’t really like giving advises, I have opinions and because I am outspoken, when asked I give my opinions. It does not bother me in the slightest whether people think my opinions are right or wrong. If some other evidence comes up, I readily change my opinions. I am rarely ever in “I don’t know what to do” situations. This is one such time.

Teaching is about encouraging others to have opinions, which I am game for, but the trouble is that most people are not comfortable with having opinions, or brave enough to voice them. My weakness is that I do not know how to engage with people who have no opinions and won’t work hard enough to develop some. The result is that I am a good teacher for a few bright kids, and not so much for the one who misses deadlines for essay submissions, or doesn't give a damn. I am told I shouldn't care about them because the students are in charge of their own learning.  But I know better, because I have seen good teachers. I have seen teachers who are passionate about every last kid in the classroom, about involving everyone, about especially encouraging and creating interest in those who do not have any. If I want to be a teacher, I want to be Blu Rain in the 2009 film Precious.  If not, I need to do something that I am really good at.

This brings me to the second part, I know what I am really good at, and I don’t yet know if I can become Blu Rain.  Part of me wants to be keep going and try and become that teacher who can even inspire the last benchers, part of me thinks/knows I am not that person and wants to pursue what I know I am good at. I am good at Research and Policy Analysis jobs. The action filled, fast paced, happening workplace. I am fairly certain of being able to secure such jobs. That is the kind of work my career was made of, till I became a mum. Then, my priorities changed. I took on a full time PhD which I thoroughly enjoyed. Cambridge has been good for us in more ways than one, but largely it slowed down our life. For the first time in our married lives, my husband and I have the leisure that we didn’t even know we craved for. We've always had a busy professional and social life, but now we are not constantly exhausted. We enjoy the university town lifestyle of riding bikes and living a simple, frugal life. It gave me a chance to develop new hobbies like photography and gardening, and let us have a pet – all of which changed our lives for the better. A couple of days a week, when my husband and I work from home, we have a relaxed lunch and go out for a walk with our dog. This was unimaginable in the fast paced job I love! So, yes, teaching also enables us to have a laidback lifestyle. I can do the school run, be there for my son’s school activities, walk the dog, do some gardening, and have friends over without being exhausted by the commute. Because, most Research and Policy Analysis jobs are in London and even if we were to move to London, any place that we can possibly afford will have some commute.

Now, let’s add to the mix some personal “crisis”. I have a loving family with one kid. We want him to have a sibling; he wishes for a sibling. My husband and I always wanted to adopt a child, and when I started having multiple miscarriages and a difficult pregnancy with my son, it seemed like the perfect solution for us. Adoption, however, has not been easy in our case. We hold Indian passports but have lived aboard for the last 12 years without having taking on a permanent residency anywhere. This seems to complicate matters. We have been trying to adopt since 2011, and we are still no close to even the first step yet.

This makes me think whether it would be a good idea to try for another child of our own, and whenever the adoption is to happen will happen. The idea of having three kids excites us. But again, a part of me that dreads the pregnancy wants to wait, while the other part fears that it would be too late for Kunal and that he would miss out on having a sibling for a considerable part of his childhood.

Also, I need to publish 3 papers from my PhD. My supervisor, who is an Emeritus Professor, has kindly agreed to co-author the papers with me. In fact he is the one who sent me an email asking me when we would start working on it. This is huge! Most PhD students I know of do not have such an involved and encouraging guide. If I don’t publish soon-ish, my data will probably be outdated, or so I feel. If I want to publish, I need to stay home this year. Because, given our family situation, I do not think I can manage a full time job, and write/publish 3 papers in top journals. If I do publish, it will enhance my chances of getting a permanent teaching position, and will generally be beneficial for any career options I may have. I feel if I am going to be home, then this is the year I need to have a second child.

This is the long and short of my situation. It is a good life, which I would hate to give up. I am certain that it is not worth the job I love, if I have to give up so much. But (…oh but!) when I see and read all about such job profiles, I feel I am missing out on something I could have had.

Choices…why do they have to be so hard?! Do I say – “I have been there, done that” to the job I love, and try and embrace the opportunity to become a new person - the teacher I have in mind, or do I go back to the familiar and exciting, and bid adieu to the calm life? When I pose the question like this, I know that the job is not worth letting go of this lifestyle. But, the decision regarding is child is not that easy.

Robert Frost has penned what I facing much more eloquently - 

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

~ Robert Frost (1874–1963).

I keep reading and re-reading the poem, seeking solace in the knowledge that such choices are a privilege; they help define who we become. 

Its Magic!

I have been meaning to write this post for a long time now. This is an incident that happened a couple of months back. Our son is in the reception year at school, which is equivalent to kindergarten in most other countries. He is five years old. He wants to be a magician. When I asked him for the first time, "why magician", he replied, "he wanted to magic things at school". I understood that as him wanting to magically finish the tasks his teacher gives him, but he clarified that it wasn't so. He explained that he didn't need magic for school work, it was easy. He wanted magic for when the teacher or one of his friends say: "oh! I wish it wasn't raining" and he could then magically change the weather to sunshine.

He had been talking about learning magic for a while now, so on our next visit to the library, we borrowed a book on magic tricks for kids. He was excited. His dad taught him a few tricks, but the rest were pretty hard for his age so we returned the book when it was due.

In his school, every Friday, they are sent two books to read at home. That week, we only got one book. I asked the teacher on the following Monday if they forgot to send in the other book. They checked and mentioned that their records state that he was sent two books. I thanked them, mentioning I would check again at home. I did, but couldn't find the book anywhere. In all this Kunal was convinced that he had "magicked" the book. I apologised and offered to pay for the book, they told me not to worry, but Mrs. Brown turned to Kunal and asked him where it was. He repeated, "I magicked it". Mrs. Brown answered, "Well, that's no good, unless you can magic it back". He quickly replied, "I can't! That's all the magic, I know! My mummy returned my magic tricks books to the library". I confirmed to his teacher that I had in fact returned the book. We smiled and Kunal stepped into his class all proud of his magical abilities.

As I drove back home, I was so thankful to have found a school that let him believe in magic. Teachers, who felt absolutely no need to correct him, much less punish him for having lost the book.

     

The trials and tribulations of being a new puppy mom!

We have a new Labrador puppy, Max. I am not a dog person, or any animal person. It is not that I don’t like them, but that I like them from a distance, when someone else is playing with them. My husband and son, however, are dog lovers and have wanted one forever now. So I, having run out of ideas to gift something for their birthdays (yes, their birthdays are a day apart), decided to gift them both a puppy!

Max is just the most adorable dog you could ever imagine! No wonder, I started liking him, and was, on occasions, brave enough to have him on my lap. He is an attention craving dog, and when he looks at me with those puppy eyes, I just melt. He’s been with us for two months now, has had all his injections, been micro-chipped, and behaves beautifully at home. I have been so impressed with him I decided to take him out for a walk, ALL BY MYSELF!

He ate, drank his water, did his business and we were out to get my son from school. I was feeling so confident I did not bother taking treats or bags, or anything else with me. Max is used to lots of visitors all fussing and cuddling him. What I did not anticipate was that he would expect the same attention from - every single person walking by, kids playing in the garden, busy mums pushing their stroller and from the babies sitting inside the stroller! Those who stopped by and gushed over him were returned the favour with lots of licks and tail wagging, which was making us late to pick up Kunal but it was fine. The problem was that he started jumping over and barking at people who walked past without acknowledging him! To add to it, there were other people who had the same idea as me and were walking their dogs. Only, their dogs were behaving beautifully, and my “still under socialization training” puppy thought it was a great idea to try and attack them. It was awkward, but more than that it was getting really hard for me to control him. Some dogs walkers gave me angry glances (which I couldn’t care about) telling me to control my dog, other sympathized. One lady decided to educate me on how to walk a dog, the first lesson being not to get the puppy out till he is trained. I would have welcomed the idea, had it not been that I had already walked half the way and was getting really late to pick up my son; there was no going back at this point.

We managed to get to school and pick up Kunal. Both Max and Kunal being so excited to see each other made me think it was worth it, but I was dreading the way back home. Max was thirsty; we fed him with Kunal’s bottle and pouring it on the back on the toy truck. I was very pleased with my improvisation skills. We started walking, Kunal pushing his cycle, me with all his stuff and Max. This time, not only did we find more dogs and a repeat performance of what had happened earlier, but there was one dog who had a collar on but no leash. We could not find the owners anywhere around, and she would come play with Max and then run off and follow us again. I am certainly not fit to break a fight between two dogs, even if one of them is mine. She followed us for a quite a while before someone recognised that it was his neighbour’s dog- Tinkerbell. The boy checked the tag, it was Tinkerbell. He then looked at Max’s collar and told me, I am not supposed to walk a dog without a collar tag (I made a mental note to get one soon).

I was happy but Max could not care less about this dog not chasing him anymore. He wanted to get into other people’s front yard. I was scared. Before I could realise, Max ran off into someone’s yard and did a poo! I was horrified. I didn’t even have the doggy bags with me. Kunal started laughing hysterically. I began ransacking Kunal’s stuff to find something I could pick up the poo in, while praying that the owners of the house don’t come out. I couldn’t find anything – all we had was a big plastic carry bag with his jacket, water bottle and a toy truck that his friend had earlier borrowed. I took everything out and made a doggy bag out of the huge plastic cover. We managed to clean it up, get back Max’s leash, all before the owner’s noticed.

We were heading back again, this time I was carrying a jacket, a huge toy truck, a water bottle and the doggy bag. We still had half a mile to walk. I was fervently praying, that we don’t encounter any more dogs, or people, or kids, or squirrels, basically no other living being.  We take a few steps and Max plops down and refuses to budge. Poor thing he must have been really tired, but I am the poor thing here, remember. That is exactly what I told him, he still didn’t budge. Worse, he closed his eyes as if to take a nap. I had no choice but to carry him. So now I had the jacket, the toy truck, the bottle, the doggy bag and a 6 kilo puppy to carry!

By the time we managed to get home, I was sooooooo tired but I couldn’t rest because I had left home at 4.30 and it was already 6.00 as we entered. Max came in drank loads of water and went in for a nap. I had to wash up, get Milk for Kunal, cook for the night, and feed him by 7.45. We had puppy training classes at 8.00. I managed.

We got to the puppy class and our humourless, very ‘matter-of-factly’ dog trainer gave us a chance to ask one question each before she started the session. Mine, no surprises for guessing, was how to make a puppy walk well on the leash. She answered that we shouldn’t walk our puppies till they are about a year old, and that right now all they need is about 10 minutes of romp in the yard. Walking the puppies is like making babies walk before their bones are well formed, and that it could damage their hips. I could have cried – there I was trying to do something nice, and I could have damaged his hips, who knew!     

Max, of course was calm and behaved beautifully in the class. I don’t know if it was because my husband was back, because he was super tired from the walk, or because it was so late in the night…whatever it be the trainer was impressed. I was still thinking about the walk and what the trainer had said earlier. I could have cried, except seeing 5 other misbehaved puppies in the class, acting unruly made me smile. Our trainer turns to me in front of everyone, and says – don’t laugh, it could be your dog next week. Yes, I decided it wasn’t my day (it hasn’t been my day for over two weeks now!) But at that moment, Ashok and I shared a smile - if only she knew!  

The Imperfectionist!

I am my father's daughter. I inherited his looks, his rather sharp analytical skills, his quick decisive nature, his deadly seriousness and dedication to finish the job he has undertaken, his appeal for a wide variety of interests, his disposition of being the critic. His mantra was: "If something was worth being done, it is worth being done well". He means well, gives credit where credit is due but is really hard to impress. As a child I saw him as the epitome of a learned man. To me, he defined success. I learned that in order to be successful, I needed to be his photocopy. 

All of the above mentioned qualities have served me well. I was an above average student, took part in extra-curricular activities, was the school president, a university debater, and topped my college during my BA and MA. I was the first of my classmates to get a job, and have two other job offers on hand. They, as parents, encouraged me to do all this and more. While, outwardly I seemed to be doing well enough and exuberated confidence, inwardly I had a melancholic feeling of inadequacy. I was unhappy, and the underlying feeling all along was that my work was not good enough, I was not good enough and that I needed to work really hard to prove myself. Not being able to achieve perfection in everything I was doing was making me unhappy. This was because I never realized that I was not my dad. He likes to do few things but do them well, I am more inclined to do a lot of things but do them just well enough. I was not built for perfectionism; I am a jack of all trades. The fact that I was master of none was what was making me sad. I was sad without realizing that the world has a place for Jacks.

Laughing, giggling and being the loud extrovert that I am was seen as being flirtatious and affected. Not to mention, my having lots of friends was seen as a waste of my time and energy. My lack of interest in learning languages (my parents are both English teachers) was evidently something to be ashamed of. I did not have any knowledge of various personality types and I saw myself exactly as was described to me. While they did not stop me from doing anything that I wanted, they were (still are!) not amused by my choosing to have the ton of friends that I did, and were more than disappointed by my not taking up language more seriously. I was (still am) acutely aware of all my shortcomings as was often pointed out. I know that they mean well. I know that they want me to be the best I can be. 

Then, I met my husband and what a change of perspective that was! He was attracted to everything that was pointed out as being negative in me. He loved my laughing, giggling, loud self. If anything he was more lively and energetic than I was! I, unconsciously, copy mannerisms of whomever I am with for any amount of time, which was being pointed out to me as being ‘affected’.  This, I recently learnt, is a non-verbal form of communication which helps people gel well and be more accepted in new/constantly changing environments (I knew God had something in mind to ease my discomfort while sending me off to all these scary new worlds!).  I embarrassed them by what they thought was a ‘put-on’ accent, which I had a hard time turning off. My husband on the other hand found it amusing that I picked up mannerisms so quickly.  He accepted me COMPLETELY. All parts of me, the good, the bad and the ugly.

I realized that my not having perfect language skills and all the other shortcomings need not stop me from being happy. As he put it, every imperfection put together makes the perfect you. He made me realize that none of us is ever going to learn everything; we will always be good at some things, not so good at others and completely suck at a lot many more things. We learn what we need to lead our lives. If someday you do realize that your less than perfect language is holding your back, you will learn it. I would question, ‘how come my sisters could learn language so much better than me’. My dad would answer: because they spent a lot more time reading newspapers and books. My husband answered: because you were busy learning other skills such as networking and making friends which later served you well. It did. No amount of language proficiency could have gotten me into the United Nations, what I needed was the ability to make friends. At every stage in life, we all learn what we want and need to learn. 

He parents differently. He believes that the world is critical enough, what kids need from their parents is unconditional love and acceptance. It is not - I love you if you become the best you can be, it is I love you period. He does not believe that as parents it is our job to point out our kid's shortcoming so that they can correct them before the harsh world points it out more rudely. He believes that we will never be able to teach them everything that they ever need to learn and that there will always be the bad harsh world ready to point it out. He believes the best we can do is let them know that they will be ok even if they ‘suck’ at a few things. Our job as parents is to help them focus on what they are good at, so that if and when they do face setbacks they have the conviction that they are in no way inadequate to lead a happy, healthy, meaningful life. More importantly, he believes shortcomings are part of who they are and that it is our job to accept and love them for whoever they are, whoever God intended them to be.

He doesn't believe in criticism. Criticism, he says, creates rebels. He has never read a self-help book in his life, but he lives by the first principle that Dale Carnegie offered to his audience “Don’t criticize, condemn, or complain.” His guiding principle: ‘encourage’. Year after year, I have seen him work with difficult teams and manage to turn them around without ever criticizing any of them. He doesn’t fret and fume for being given a bad team, he doesn’t complain if they lose a bid. He’ll smile and say: “You win some, you lose some. The other team must have put in a better bid”. He might encourage people to analyse the situation – but I can bet on my life that his words would be, “what do you think we could have done better, rather than what do you think went wrong”.  

Needless to say, I have easily accomplished a lot more after having met him and all of it without that underlying feeling of inadequacy. I have attempted and achieved things I never even dared dream of – be it learning swimming past 30, or working for United Nations, getting into Cambridge University or finally having the confidence to be my own person. He has always told me – focus on what you have to offer, the rest will come as and when you need it.

The Romantic notions of being nice!

Garden variety self-help about staying positive and resisting negativity disturbs me. It is not just these two articles, it is everywhere. People, it seems, have started believing that ‘being nice’ = kindness. I cannot begin to imagine the consequences of this romantic notion, of raising a kid in Stepford! Thankfully, the world is nothing like Stepford.

One of my friends recently commented, “I hate the perfect Barbies! They are affected, and quite frankly extremely irritating!” While I see no reason why one should not be proper and civil with people in general, I could fully resonate with the view.

Bill Gillham, talking about Research Interviewing, says: "Being 'confrontational' has come to be seen as a bad thing in social contexts. For those who seek to smooth things down, to make things 'work' - does it ever really work that way?" He clarifies this a bit further, being 'confrontational' does not mean that one has to be routinely and overtly aggressive leading to conflicts, but tamely subordinating our own views for the sake of 'peace' is no way to go either.  If all played nice, no one would challenge anyone. Instead of pushing the boundaries of knowledge further, we would all be pushing issues under the carpet which would inevitably blow up in our faces. I have invariably seen that the nice ones end up hurting their loved ones more than those who learn to deal with conflict head-on. 

I am more convinced of the yin and the yang. There is good and bad in life; and the strength of character lies in dealing effectively with both. We cannot boycott parts of life. We should not be scared of conflict or criticism; instead we have to look at how it as an essential ingredient for growth. Imagine if we were to distance ourselves from everybody who ever criticised us; we would be left with false admirers and no scope for growth. What a sad state to be in! As a parent, I can only hope that I am able to instil in my child a sense of realism – the capacity to accept both good and bad without ever losing himself. That he stays grounded while seeking to grow!

Being a student-parent!

Ask any student-parent in the university and they will tell you, it is a hard job!

I have finally managed to submit my seventh term assessment (still anxiously waiting for the viva), but there is no time to rest or take a break, because I have to finish my literature review, start writing new chapters if I am to keep up with my schedule of finishing up the first draft by September. A normal day in life begins early, getting ready, getting my son ready for nursery (I am tired by the time I finish his brushing, breakfast and shower), and dropping him off before I head out to the department. After a full day of studying, attending courses, library visits and some writing, you rush back to pick them up in time. This is actually my favourite time of the day when I get to hear all about his day at the nursery and just getting the hug and settling in to a cuddle till he finishes the milk and biscuits. Sometimes his friend from nursery comes over – and they play for about half an hour. Some days they play nicely, other days, when they are both especially tired, it is rather difficult. My son and I then get ready to cook dinner. I sometimes wonder if I am making my life especially difficult by cooking fresh food every night, but he loves cooking with me so it is nice.

By the time my husband gets home, the kid has been fed, read stories to, and is ready to drop off any time now. My husband works in London so the daily commute means that he is home pretty late. Dinner is two exhausted people catching up on each other’s day and just some time alone for ourselves. While my DH cleans up and does the dishes, I settle into the never ending reading.

Weekends are only slightly easier because my husband is around. But then there is music, swimming and golf lesson to take my son too. There are the weekly chores of laundry and cleaning to be done.

So what do I like about being a student-parent? I like the environment that a being in a university campus provides. I like the fact that my learning curve has never been this high, some of the classes have easily been, in my opinion, as best as it can ever get. I love the library, and I genuinely enjoy working on my PhD.

I love that being so busy means I have no time to dwell on anything negative, there is always something to be done. I also prefer the flexibility that a PhD provides, which can be very handy with a small kid. If he is sick, I can take a week off, and work harder the next week, a luxury which I never enjoyed while working. Also, when you know you only have so much time, you seem to focus better when you work.

What I struggle with: Time. When we first came to Cambridge, we would take our son to the student-parent gatherings on Friday mornings at the University Centre. I was initially overwhelmed being a student-parent and had asked several other student-parents, how it is they managed. One of them answered for everyone, “Look around, nobody is managing. We all struggle, but we also manage to enjoy!” Some days the fatigue of being a student-parent is just completely draining, other days your accomplishments as a student or as a parent make up for all the exhaustion!

The final verdict: I think it is rewarding enough to make us want to go through it!