My first car was a 1973 Volkswagen Beetle. I bought it in 1981 when I was a student. I had no money in my budget for repairs so I bought a book called; How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive: A Manual of Step-by-Step Instructions for the Complete Idiot. It worked. I was indeed a complete idiot when it came to cars but somehow I managed to change my brakes, adjust my valves and points to perfection, and run new wires whenever an electrical problem cropped up. The manual was grease-stained and in tatters.
I loved that car. It was miserable to drive in winter. When I came back to Montreal, my father made a contraption for me that had a plexiglass scraper on one side. The other side had a thick piece of rubber bolted through the back which could be used as a squeegee. I used the scraper when it was below freezing (which was most of the time since there was no heat in the car) and the squeegee when it was foggy. When I would be stuck in traffic, I would look across to other drivers. They would sometimes have their coats off and on occasion would open their windows a crack when they got a little too warm. I hated them! I would sit there shivering in my parka wearing down-filled leather mitts (with the scraper in my right hand at the ready) and a scarf across my face. Did I mention how I loved that car?
Why am I so fond of my beetle? Because of what I had to do to own it. I had to plan carefully and wait for the right deal. I then had to baby it and do all my repairs in order to afford ownership. I had to endure discomfort in winter. The value of the transportation was in the effort I had to expend in order to achieve it!
To this day, I still change the oil in my car. It makes no sense because a) I end up with motor oil under my fingernails for a week, b) I inevitably spill oil on my driveway, and c) it costs less to have the oil changed at Costco than it actually costs me to buy the oil and filter myself. Still, the act represents something important to me. It represents the act of working to maintain something I need. It contributes to the value of what I own.
My beetle was the inspiration of last week’s column. It is a trivial example but it illustrates the principle well. In reality, I had set out to write “A Child and a Half” about adoption (which I refer to briefly in my column), but decided to save it for an opportunity when I can get into the details of the pursuit (a 400-word limit would not work for that topic). One day.
Anything that requires effort is worth more than things that come easily. I once thought about Star Trek’s Replicator and Holodeck. Two great concepts that indulge our fantasies of getting anything we want just by asking for it. Then I wondered how I would really feel if it were possible. I hate to say it but I think we would all be unhappy if we lived in that world. Deprivation and pursuit are what make up the value of something.
Here is last week’s column:
Attainment without pursuit
(source: Journal Métro, Des efforts payants, February 3, 2009)
Aaah…the joy of dreams – a better life, great wealth, true love, or how about a Stanley Cup for your favourite team – wouldn’t it be great to have everything you wish for?
It certainly sounds tantalizing but if we did have the power to fulfill our every wish, I bet it wouldn’t feel very good. This is because attaining something without a pursuit renders it pretty bland, regardless of what it is. The true value of something, be it an object or a relationship, comes not so much from having it, as it does from what we had to do to earn it. In other words, the value is proportional to the pursuit. Did you ever notice how the tomatoes you grow taste better than the ones you buy?
The pursuit of life
Think about your life and what you really cherish. If you’ve earned a college degree or other attestation of training, what do you remember the most? What makes you proudest? Is it not the work you did, or the uncertainty and discouragement you had to overcome? If you had ordered the same diploma online for $20, would you feel as good?
What about having to overcome something even more challenging, such as a long period of rehabilitation following a car accident? After that, a simple stroll down the street would feel pretty special, even if the same act meant very little for a person walking next to you.
The pursuit of relationships
The same principle applies to relationships. Just ask an infertile couple or someone who has yet to find love. Living without someone in our life is what makes us appreciate the value of relationships when we finally do have a child or find a mate.
I always joke that an adopted child is worth one and a half “regular” kids. That’s because of the emotional roller coaster that comes with never knowing if you will ever conceive, with years of dealing with infertility investigations and failed medical procedures, with the expense of international adoption, and with the political instability and bureaucratic delays endemic to the process. With all due respect to mothers who may have had to endure thirty-hour labour, the pursuit of an adopted child is a far more exhausting ordeal.
Without a struggle, attainment will bring you joy that is fleeting. Joy that lasts comes from overcoming a period of deprivation, or from working hard and overcoming barriers. It may not feel like fun while you’re struggling, but it sure pays off when you finally get there. Don’t sweat the journey. It’ll eventually pay back dividends.
Happiness is not about what you have. It is about what you’ve earned.
Tagged as adoption, pursuit of happiness.
Posted on 11 Feb 2009
