I texted a friend recently to ask if they’d ever consider going to Peru and doing ayahuasca. They responded, “Not against it, but I don’t need it. I had a pretty big spiritual transformation about five years ago, and not sure I’m seeking that.”
Why did I hate this response so much?
I didn’t even respond to the text. Instead, I texted two other friends and, without revealing the identity of the person, I was like, “Can you even believe that someone would respond like this?”
They both basically said, “Yes, we can, and why do you hate this response so much?”
I’m doing a pretty good job lately of feeling emotions and getting curious about them. Meaning, my anger wasn’t even directed at this friend as much as it was at the broader concept of, “Thanks but I’m good enough.” A bit more fixed-minded than growth-minded. Their lack of curiosity about why I was asking was also a bit annoying.
So why was I asking them?
Thanks for asking.
The last conversation I had with this friend revealed that they were fairly stuck in life. Like, way more than I had ever imagined. Stuck in a way that cast them as the victim in the center of their own universe. Ego on full display.
I saw it so clearly because: I’ve. Been. There.
I tossed out this less obvious tool as a suggestion to move that stuck energy. The faux pas on my part was encroaching into the oft-demonized “unsolicited advice” territory—a territory I’m so intimate with, I could draw a map with my eyes closed.
Also a territory that we could all use a little bit more of—not less, in fact. A post for another day.
But again, this is just from my perspective. Maybe I have them all wrong and they are secretly thriving. Still, the annoyance persists simply because they are pushing back against the very growth-centric point of life itself: to learn, to adapt, to seek out new experiences for the sake of seeking them out because dammit, we’re only here for a boop or two and then BOOP—we’re not.
I didn’t need my friend to text me back, “Great idea, just booked my flight to Peru!” (though how fucking cool would that have been, honestly?) I would have been thrilled over, “Open to that or anything when the timing’s right. Why do you ask?”
It’s the open versus closed nature of the response.
“Thanks but I’m good enough” (closed) versus “I’m excited at possibilities” (open).
“I’m good enough,” reminds me of growing up in small-town, USA.
Why change things when Things Are Just Good Enough™?
Oh, I dunno, maybe because Just Good Enough is a fucking trap?
Often I hear folks complaining about how unfair life is (very) or how shitty the job market is (very) or any number of other viable reasons why their situation is justified (so many).
But often the consistent thread in those situations is that Things Are Just Good Enough.
In mining, "rock bottom" refers to the solid layer of rock beneath soil or other softer material, marking the lowest point miners could dig. You couldn’t go any lower. You hit the rock. The term gained traction through addiction and recovery communities, especially Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), beginning in the 1930s.
We—myself included—knowingly walk down paths that are Just Good Enough until the system completely breaks. We’re seeing this in America right now. For a while, things were Just Good Enough for most people, but we’re snowballing toward rock bottom and we will break apart in such a devastating fashion that we’ll have no choice but to finally get off our asses and make actual and definitive change.
What annoys me most about my friend and America and systems and all of this bullshit is: it doesn’t have to be this way. We can, instead, choose to live lives of humble consistency, curious iteration, and preventative maintenance.
Things don’t fall apart suddenly. They erode. Quietly. Gradually.
Predictably.
Why wait until your credit card gets declined before you open your banking app?
Why wait until a guest comments on your dirty bathroom before you clean it?
Why wait until your partner threatens to leave before you start listening?
Oh right. Because things are Just Good Enough.
Good read, Chapman. I always try to push past the “it’s just good enough” mindset. One quote that’s always put a fire under my ass is: “Comfort is the enemy of progression.”
When it comes to comfort creatures, I don’t always think it stems from ego, apathy, or a lack of curiosity. Sometimes it’s much deeper, more invisible, even to the point where they themselves can’t see it. Maybe it’s what they were shown by their parents. Maybe it’s reinforced by a society that subconsciously trains us not to stand out. It becomes the default because it’s familiar, safe, and socially accepted.
Not everyone can be both the scientist and the lab rat. For a lot of people, I think they need to get the bellyache from the junk food before they reach for the superfoods.