Letter To Myself: To Be Opened In 2010

Dear Nick,

So you made it through another four years, through Harvard Law and the presidential campaign. Some people will probably tell you that’s something to be proud of. It is, but only for about ten minutes. Anybody else with your skills and opportunities would have done the same, and quite a few people would have done it better.

You’re a lucky person to be where you are, and you don’t deserve it any more than anybody else on this planet. However, now that you have been given so much, you have a great responsibility to make the most out of your skills and training.

According to Harvard College Professor and Professor of Psychology Daniel Gilbert’s book “Stumbling on Happiness,” we are often happiest when we make a decision on the fly and it is irreversible. Hence, a student who decides on a whim to sign up for the Marines and becomes legally obligated to perform four years of service will most likely be happier than the student who spends months agonizing over job choices and finally chooses the one with the highest pay with an option to quit whenever he wants.

In other words, future Nick, take the job that you think will be most fulfilling, but pick it on a whim, and don’t worry about keeping all of your options open. Work hard and work for something you believe in. Abe Lincoln never took a case he felt was morally wrong, and you don’t have to either. Quit before sacrificing your principles.

If you reread Gilbert’s book, you’ll remember why it intrigued you so much when you read it four years ago. Essentially, Gilbert makes a strong case that we humans are terrible at predicting what will make us happy in the future, but we love doing it, and we refuse to let anyone else do it for us. (In fact, future Nick—if you haven’t pretentiously changed your name to Nicholas yet—you’re probably shaking your head at the idea that I could possibly give you any useful advice.)

Gilbert’s main point is that you can’t imagine the next four years any better than I can imagine the four you just lived. A few errors contribute to this failure. First, I assume that the way I experience the world is unique. I optimistically hope that law school will be fun, even though my friends who are doing it now hate it. (How did you like it? Oh, sorry bro.) Second, when imagining the future, we fill in the blanks with how we feel now and how the world is now. So I assume that the Ferrari or chili dog that would make me so satisfied now will always have that effect.

Finally, when I imagine the future, my mind’s eye leaves out much of what the future will contain. I imagine how sad you’ll be if the Steelers don’t win a second straight Super Bowl, without accounting for the happiness you will derive from reading a great book, going to Shay’s, or winning a crew race.

Given the difficulties in predicting the future, the only certainty is that you will find yourself in situations I never would have imagined. The good news is that whatever you choose, and however you choose it, you will find a way to be happy. To maximize your happiness and that of others, I have a few pieces of advice.

First, get plenty of sleep and exercise. Second, demonstrate unselfish love of your fellows by putting yourself in their shoes. This is very difficult to do well and easy to do badly, but it is the key to being a kind person and good citizen. Strive to listen well—often it is tempting to assume people are exaggerating how they feel to get what they want, especially when their desires are in conflict with yours. Fight only for things you really care about and compromise when you can.

Third, trust others, even when it means risking your own lot. In Che Guevara’s farewell letter to Castro, he wrote that his only regret was not trusting Castro sooner. (Whatever we think of Castro, he certainly did good things for Che.) Putting your trust in people will empower them to do incredible things, and that includes taking over countries (N.B.: guns and bombs won’t be necessary here). Even if you are occasionally disappointed, you will more often be impressed by the integrity of your friends, your colleagues, and even Republicans.

Finally, I’ll tell you one of the few things I’m certain of: the only regrets you will have in 20 years are the opportunities you pass up and the risks you forgo. If you haven’t already, put your career on hold and go win her heart. You know who I’m talking about. Other things can wait, but love can’t.



Nicholas F.B. Smyth ’05-06 is a Crimson editorial editor.