Commitment - 038 — Jake Kahana

Making Peace With My Summer Neighbor by Joana Avillez

January Habit Challenge

This year I'm going to try and do something I've never done before.

I'm hoping to write 12 original songs. Even in college when I took 2 semesters of songwriting, the most I've ever written in a year was 6.

Last Fall, my Caveday cofounders and I were thinking about ways to help people build better routines at work, together. We came up with The Habit Challenge, which is basically us hosting zoom meetings at the same time every day. People commit to building a new daily habit; I chose songwriting.

Over 300 people signed up. And now, at the end of the month, only about 50 people regularly attend. I can't figure out why that is and it's making me think a lot about our commitments.

Commitments are so interesting to me, because paradoxically, they seem to be rife with fear and equally the source of so much joy and meaning in our lives.

Commitments are about promising loyalty, binding us to that thing. But who cares? Why commit to anything? It’s easier not to and just freely choose whatever I want as I go. Right?

Well, let's commit and see.

The Bag

When you are born they'll hand you an empty bag.
You are to carry it wherever you go
For the rest of your life.

It is your repository.

For memories, for strained relationships, and loss.
For to-dos and plans.
For the regrets and shame that will sit at the bottom and weigh it down.

The contents will grow
and you must continue to bear the weight.

It will make you stronger.
Sometimes the weight will be more than you can handle.

In those times remember you must

remember

that not everything adds weight.

Save hope.
And laughter.
Collect space for thinking and solitude.
Gather joy
and you will make it lighter.

And when you find love, at first,
your bag might feel weightless altogether.

Your love will have a bag too.

Before you are ready,
you will share.
And add to each other.

You must learn
to create and collect those things
that will make your joined bag feel light.

Because it will feel like double the weight.
It is.

The weight of two
will drag you down.

But the real trick is
learning to carry the weight together.

Commitment vs Freedom

For the first two decades of our lives, we're copying.

We mimic our parents. Then our teachers. Our classmates, and characters on TV.

We learn how the world works by mimicking.

Then, we realize we have control. We enter a phase of self-exploration.

We figure out who we are by being on our own.

Trying out new relationships, new hobbies, new identities.

Most of our late teens and 20s are spent curating an identity, and embracing independence.

In fact, we start to prize individuality and independence over everything else.

We get used it.

Individuality starts to mean doing whatever we want.

Unlimited choice. And if I'm in control of all my choices, I am in control of my future.

That's a pretty powerful idea.

So much so that commitment starts to feel like giving up.

Commitment means I have to give up the "me" that I've crafted.

Committing to someone means letting them control or at least influence my choices and therefore who I am and my future.

Commitment begins to feel like I have to sacrifice my autonomy.

Commitment and freedom become opposites.

So when I find someone and commit, all the choices that were once available to me are gone.

My choices are limited. And that's scary.

Because now I'm committed.

And what if I've committed wrong? What if there was a better option?

I'm not open for adventure anymore.

I've given up that freedom.

So why commit?

Wait. Commitment = Freedom.

Thinking about commitment, I'm drawn to cliché analogies– roots, anchors, tent poles, foundations.

Ultimately showing that commitments foster stability. At least I think.

But any cynic will point out that these all make us immobile. Or that they match another cliché analogy– ball and chain. Commitments are prisons, right?

Well think about it like this:

The ball and chain (or roots or anchors or whatever) ties us to a singular place. A home base.

A space to return to when the rest of our lives are hard and scary.

Because we need safety in one part in order to feel like we can take risks and learn learn in other parts.

Commitments help us grow.

Not just that but the commitment itself broadens our life experience.

Commitment is realizing that there is something outside yourself that will give our life meaning.

Not just the thing (habit, career, person, family, institution, craft). But the commitment itself.

When we commit, we are finding and testing our loves.

And when we test our loves, they grow stronger.

In order to feel free, we must also feel like that freedom won't be taken away at any moment.

We need security and stability.

And in that way, commitment is actually a kind of freedom.

"Some walks you have to take alone" by The Zairul

Purpose Is Never Found

In 2015, I had a purpose... coach.

I was feeling confused and lost in my career. In my life. And so I hired someone for 6 months to work with me every week to help me (cue the trumpets...) find my purpose.

And here's the spoiler alert you probably don't want to hear. I didn't find it.

But even though I didn't fully reach my desired outcome, I still really enjoyed the work.

That's one of the biggest lessons I learned. It was about process.

It's often hard to see the path ahead, but looking back, the milestones mark the way and the path seems almost obvious.

We don't just "find" our purpose. It's not something we set out to define and pursue and reach, like a destination. Or a goal. Yet, we are working towards it all the time; through our interests and passions, through our choices and decisions. And most importantly, our commitments.

We don't magically find our purpose.

We reveal our purpose.

Frame from Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

Thanks for making the commitment today to read through this.

My hope with this (and every) refrigerator is that it helps you find a little clarity in your life or even helps you see something small in a new way.

I love hearing from you and what shifted or came up as you read this. And I encourage you to send this to anyone who might get something out of it.

With gratitude,

Jake