Doing What I Think I Should & Doing the Best That I Can

As a much younger man and an aspiring folk singer, I used to play Green Back Dollar by Hoyt Axton on my Gibson steel-string guitar:

Some people say I'm a no count

Others say I'm no good

But I'm just a natural born traveling man

Doing what I think I should

Oh Lord, doing what I think I should

Well, I don't give a damn about a green back dollar

Spend it fast as I can

For a wailing song and a good guitar

Are the only things that I understand

Oh Lord, the only things that I understand

After nearly a lifetime of studying and observing the human species, and of investigating every possible moral philosophy, religion and form of spirituality, I have come back full circle to simplicity as the best approach to life. “Doing what I think I should” and “Doing the best that I can” may seem like a poor excuse for pursuing my highest ambitions, but the alternative looks worse.

A large number of people have given up trying to live a good life altogether, since it just seems too hard. Others are still striving valiantly to achieve perfection as best they can understand it, but are getting battered by the unceasing storms that blow them off their desired path.

Perhaps it doesn’t need to be this hard. As most of us move into an increasingly complex and complicated (“complexicated”) world in our large metropolitan areas, we have become rich in money and possessions, but poor in free time, leisure and simplicity. Just driving or commuting to work is arduous. Managing a successful career is increasingly challenging. Maintaining relationships, a solid family, and caring for the wider community seems more like an impossible dream than a present reality. Add to this the complications of exploding technology, communications, entertainment, and new systems for doing anything better (which usually disappear overnight), and we moderns are working full-out just to meet our minimum obligations.

The irony is that while we have ever more knowledge and educational degrees, we have less understanding of how to live life well. By contrast, although my parents and grandparents faced life-long economic hardships and health challenges, they didn’t spend their days in unfathomable complexity. They could come home after a hard day’s labour to sing, garden, cook, chat with neighbours, and to keep their simple faith.

Our generation seems in danger of losing what matters most in life. We may own cars that perform beyond the wildest dreams of our grandparents; and we accumulate home furnishings, travel to distant places, and live like royalty in some respects; yet, we suffer the severe modern anxiety where the speed of change has left us utterly baffled.

So I come back to simplicity and to manageable goals. At age 60, I have no illusion that just around the corner I will encounter a new success formula to bring great wealth, better health, effective government, or perfect spirituality. Rather, I see much unhappiness in those still striving for impossible levels of perfection in every dimension.

I remember fondly the days of my youth when I had few “green-backed dollars”, but lots of fun and leisure. I enjoyed never-ending days at the beach or in the mountains with friends and family. We sang around the fire. We cooked simple food. We made plenty of mistakes. But life was good.

I hope for the generations that follow that our material ambitions, our pursuit of education and knowledge, and our desire to achieve human perfection in every aspect don’t ruin what could be a good life.

My advice: just do what you think you should and the best that you can. It doesn’t get much better than that.