The point of life has never been apparent to me. Ever since I was little, people have asked me what I wanted to do with my future and each time, I’d say the same thing: be a Pokémon trainer. It was my stupid way of dodging the question, but it worked. Despite the fact that I’m a junior now, when I ask myself that same question, I still avoid it.
Instead, I tell myself I have more important issues to worry about, like homework or my social life. But, to tell the truth, I feel like a stray leaf in the wind, floating to wherever life takes me with no purpose or agency. Everything I do blows me somewhere new, but that somewhere never feels like my future.
Everyone around me has some kind of life plan: “get into Stanford and become a doctor” or “get into Berkeley and become an engineer.” Even if they haven’t completely thought it through, they have a sense of direction — something they can move forward with, that guides their life and gives it meaning. They have a goal, so their life seems to have a point to it. What does my life have?
I try to think of what I’ll be doing in 20 years, and all I see is a question mark, another gust of wind. I try to find a passion, but nothing feels right. I think back to whatever I’m doing in school right now — try to imagine myself doing AP Calculus or American Literature for the rest of my life — and that idea makes my soul die.
When these kinds of thoughts come up, it leaves me with an empty feeling, as if all the achievements I’ve worked hard for mean nothing because they aren’t going anywhere. It’s a kind of existential dread that comes when you don’t know what kind of life you want to have and don’t know where to start looking.
Recently when I was thinking about this again, I decided to go for a walk. I’d heard walks help clear your head. I hoped that maybe I could find an answer for my questions — that is, finally figure out who I want to be and what my life is going to look like. None of that happened. Instead, I walked past a tree. There was nothing special about it; it was decently tall and covered in bright green leaves, and I had probably walked past it plenty of times, as well as hundreds of other trees just like it. However, it was a sunny day, so I decided to sit under it.
Sitting there wasn’t remarkable in any way. It hadn’t given me a magic solution to my problems, no revelation to save me from my soul sickness. However, one thing did change: I noticed my heart beating more easily and my chest feeling lighter. I no longer felt the kind of panic that came with existential worry. I felt the wind, which had been blowing my mind in every direction, ease away. I sat there for a few minutes, watching the branches sway in the slight breeze, seeing the sunlight make the leaves shine a green that perfectly contrasted the sky. Along with the rustling leaves and occasional birds, it was as if the world was telling me to enjoy the view. Even though I’ve probably walked past that tree countless times, I’d never noticed how beautiful it was.
I found myself wondering how long that tree had been there. It had probably existed for decades, simply growing and letting itself be. As silly as it sounds, I felt jealous — jealous of that ability to just exist, without the burden of uncertainty or the pressure to figure out what comes next. Sitting there in that moment, I realized that I had never once taken the time to calm down and think. I had all of these thoughts and nerves but had never really processed them. Under that tree, I felt as if I was truly sitting down with my thoughts for the first time in my life.
In that clarity, I realized something: even if I never find what I’m truly passionate about, I’d be happy to just exist, like a tree watching the world pass by. I decided to live like a tree, continuing to grow in spite of my uncertainty. I’ll figure out what my life is going to be eventually, but even if it’s still confusing, all I can do right now is ride the wind and relax.
