the quiet rebellion of a little life
hello.
there’s a pervasive myth that has seeped into every corner of our current reality claiming that in order to have a meaningful life, we’re told that worth is measured in titles, achievements, and the scope of our influence. it’s a myth that demands endless striving, as though the only lives worth living are the ones visible on the world’s stage (the internet). as i’ve gotten older, i’ve found myself questioning this narrative that is constantly being fed to us through the algorithms- a consequence of being chronically online.
we see the consequences both good and bad of the lives of successful ceo’s, mega influencers, celebrities, etc… but what about the people who live smaller lives? the people who don’t reach for the summit of our sisyphusean existence, but rather, find meaning in the climb itself? what about the ones who find joy in the mundane. cooking dinner, coming home to a dog who couldn’t be more thrilled to be in your presence after a long day at work, making pancakes on a sunday morning, or starting a garden with your person? a life where your career gives you enough to live comfortably- to live a simple, but significant life offline? are their lives inherently less valuable because they don’t fit society’s definition of mega success? or could it be that they’ve uncovered a kind of contentment the rest of us are too distracted to see?
camus’s myth of sisyphus speaks to this so poignantly. he asks us to imagine sisyphus happy, repeatedly and tirelessly rolling his boulder up the hill, only for it to tumble back down again- a metaphor for futility. but camus reframes this as a story of defiance. sisyphus doesn’t find meaning in reaching the summit—he finds it in the act of pushing the boulder. his happiness isn’t in escaping the climb but rather, embracing it, despite the inevitable struggle that comes with work of any kind.
this feels deeply relevant to the way society views success: a falsified glorification of the summit: the promotions, the accolades, the wealth. but the summit is a moving target. no matter how high you climb, there’s always another peak in the distance. this is what it means to be imperfectly human. the people who reject this pursuit and find meaning in the climb itself, are often dismissed as unambitious or small. i lived this experience being raised by parents and grandparents who scoffed at people who worked jobs or chased pursuits that didn’t meet their expectations. they felt a particular animosity towards my aunt and uncle that i never understood until i became an adult. i spent many family dinner parties growing up listening to my grandparents belittle my aunt and uncle for choosing the path less traveled: raising their son abroad in france, spain and italy, teaching him multiple languages, living a frugal, simple, content, culturally rich life. i wrote about this at length in my essay about living a minimalistic life in a world of over consumption. when i was younger, something in my gut told me that they’re the ones who’ve truly figured it out, and now i’m certain of this.
i think about their lives often. rebellion against this relentless culture of striving. they were teachers, readers, and travelers, not in the curated, performative way we see on social media but with an authenticity that is increasingly rare. their home was filled with books, art, and conversation. they didn’t chase wealth or status, yet their lives felt richer than anything money could buy. even the hyper curated minimalistic lives you see on social media today can’t possibly be real in practice because promoting that lifestyle online completely contradicts what it truly means to live simply, humbly, and content. do you want to know how i know this? because as someone who creates content, i know the work and intention it takes to curate a feed- take the photo, set the stage so it doesn’t look staged, envision the aesthetic, the emotion, the feeling i want to convey. there’s an enigmatic dichotomy living inside of my brain that battles this every day. there’s a release and an art and a joy i feel creating this type of content, but the effort and work it takes is antithetical to the final product- which in turn perpetuates the belief that nothing you see on social media is real. because it isn’t.
the irony in all of this, is that if social media were completely eradicated from the world and everyone had a chance to look inward in order to pursue being the very best version of themselves possible, both emotionally and logistically in their career pursuits, imagine the repercussions of this and how it would positively impact our society… but alas, i’m dreaming of a world where that could never exist again.
this type of existence isn’t new or profound, quite the contrary, it’s as old as the human struggle to find meaning. in either/or, kierkegaard explores the difference between the aesthetic life and the ethical life, a dichotomy that feels remarkably relevant in today’s world of curated social media feeds and performative success. the aesthetic life is about surface—chasing pleasure, beauty, and external validation. it’s the life of the summit, constantly striving for recognition and achievement, often at the expense of inner fulfillment.
the ethical life, by contrast, is inward facing. it’s not concerned with appearances but with authenticity, integrity, and the work of becoming. while the aesthetic life seeks approval and applause, the ethical life finds satisfaction in depth over spectacle, in choosing actions that align with one’s values rather than what impresses others. kierkegaard’s framework challenges us to reflect on what truly matters, are we living for ourselves, or for the image we project? it’s a timeless question, one that resonates even more profoundly in a world obsessed with visibility. you wont be on forbes 30 under 30. it won’t come with a little blue tick mark on social media, and you wont have the corner office on the 47th floor of your big girl corporate job. but it’s infinitely more fulfilling.
society loves the aesthetic life. especially young people who are preparing to lead this world some day. terrifying, right? it’s easy to market and easy to capitalize off of. but the ethical life that values the small, and the mundane requires introspection. it asks you to stop chasing what you’re told to desire and forces you to ask yourself… what do i actually need to feel whole?
for me, the answer hasn’t always been in the little things. when you’re raised with the narrative of more, more, more—more success, more recognition, more achievement—a simpler existence felt impossibly out of reach. i’ve chased careers that weren’t mine to chase, pivoted several times in a desperate attempt to meet the expectations of my family and society. and yet, despite all the effort, none of it has worked out because the foundation was built on seeking an external validation that doesn’t exist. it’s a hamster wheel. exhausting, futile, and blind to the meaningful moments that truly make life worth living. stepping off that wheel has been its own act of rebellion, one i’m still learning to embrace.
the past two years in particular, i’ve felt myself craving moments that make a life worth living. breakfast in bed on a sunday morning: sticky buns and black coffee, sharing a bed with my best friend. having more children. walking through the park while listening to the sounds of nature and kids laughing in the playground nearby. decompressing after a day at work on the couch with a cat who nestles besides my belly while i read, sip hot tea, and listen to tender jazz. cooking pasta for dinner, drinking wine, slow dancing in the kitchen with a lover. maybe starting a garden. farmers markets on weekends carrying a wicker basket full of apricots and hydrangeas. a soft, romantic, simple existence.
simple, but significant.
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