There’s something called the “Stephen Covey Principle,” otherwise known as the 90/10 Rule. It’s a concept centered on emotional intelligence and reaction. Basically, in the grand scheme of things, 10% of life is made up of what happens to you. The remaining 90% is decided by how you react to those events. Applying this principle to everyday life, it’s easier to see that most of the “drama” in life is self-generated through reaction. Since we are ultimately capable of altering our reaction, we can shift focus from “blaming the world” to “owning the response.” Not to say this is easy, but it’s an interesting way to look at the world.
For the last several years, I’ve had my own Rule of 90/10, although in my case it was the Rule of 80/20 until I retired. The “rule” is completely aspirational, and I can’t say that I’ve always been able to live by it. It’s a bit of a variation on the Covey Principle; essentially, I’ve tried to identify the things I consider most important in life, compressing them down to no more than 20% of what I experience. That’s the part of my life into which I’d like to channel the most energy. Into my 20%, I’ve placed my desire to protect and nurture my children and my extended family, the interests of people I love, my efforts to be creative and my commitment to be healthy enough to enjoy whatever time I have left. While I was working, I included in this component a commitment to be the best lawyer I could be (acknowledging I had very mixed feelings about practicing law), a good partner and devoted manager. I genuinely wanted my partners and co-workers to be happy, and I often put aside my own desires and objectives in order to try to accomplish that result. Even within my 20%, my own needs usually came last.
As for the other 80%, I’ve actively tried to, well, not give a shit. As I’ve gotten older, there are more and more things that I realize don’t matter whatsoever. When it comes to travel, it means I’m not going to complain about a hotel room as long as it’s clean and comfortable. I am happy trying new foods even if sometimes the consequences are less than ideal (as was the case during my Everest Base Camp trek). In fairness, I do really enjoy good food in nice restaurants (I’ve had some spectacular Michelin-starred meals over the years), but I’m not above grabbing a Subway sandwich after driving for several hours in New Zealand. I’ve never been much of a clothes horse, and I probably have some shorts in my closet that I bought before my first son (who’s 33) was born.
After retirement, I felt comfortable eliminating half of the things that were previously in my 20% and am trying to live as much as I can in what is now the critical 10%.
What does any of this have to do with my gap year? Being away from the United States and often well outside of the news cycle, it’s sensitized me to the amount of time and energy Americans devote to politics. Admittedly, not exactly a “hot take” on our environment, but such a contrast to life in a place like China.
I previously wrote about my time in Tibet (“Big Brother”), and my guide’s reluctance to delve into China’s history. When I got to the smaller city of Zhangjiajie, my guide and I talked quite a lot about cultural freedoms and everyday life. She was honestly indifferent to politics – it didn’t make it into her 10% (or 20%), since, in her view, there was nothing she could do to affect the way the country was run. Elections were meaningless, but, by the same token, she felt like the government had no impact on her day-to-day life. She didn’t feel like her speech was compromised, or that she lacked any essential freedoms that we Americans would consider paramount. Essentially, not much had changed since the 14th Century, when the expression “heaven is high and the emperor is far away” first came into use. As long as the government stays out of your daily life, why worry about it?
On a much smaller (and less significant) scale, in Mongolia, the cars drive on the right side of the road, but since Mongolia basically has to import everything, cars come with steering wheels on either the right or left side. I would probably get a brain fry trying to remember to drive on the right with a steering wheel on the right, but Mongolians don’t seem to care. They get few fresh vegetables, especially in the winter, and their diet is comprised of a lot of meat and starches; my guide bluntly told me that Mongolians were generally pretty fat, but that’s just the way things are and, since she enjoyed food so much (she was rather vocal in a rapturous way while eating), she didn’t care. Given my own body dysmorphia, I was taken aback by this honest assessment, but for my guide, it was just in her 90%.
As I thought about my 10%, I realized that so much of it was devoted to others – taking care of them, protecting them, providing for them and actively trying to make them happy. I set out on my gap year with the intent of focusing on myself and not being beholden to the needs and desires of others. That’s not easy for me; I grew up being told that if I didn’t cater to the needs and wants of my parents, I was selfish. Over time, selfish became a synonym for worthless. There was no space carved out for self-preservation or self-interest if it conflicted with the interests first of my parents, and then pretty much everyone else that came into my life.
It took me a long time to understand that not everything I did had to be evaluated on a spectrum of selfishness. Of course, I’ve acted selfishly and without regard to the interests of others. But not everything I’ve done to take care of myself has to be labeled as “selfish.” Life is more nuanced than that. I have the opportunity to approach life differently and my gap year is teaching me that doing things for myself doesn’t make me an asshole (I’m not saying there’s never a time that I’m an asshole, but you get the point).
At the end of the day, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to be as brutally honest with myself as my Mongolian guide was about herself, but it would sure be nice to shed some of my self-criticism and self-judgment, or at least to relegate it to the 90% so I can focus on the things that are really important. Maybe I need to add self-love to my 10%. I think I have room for it.
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