My dog Shiloh is getting old. Her coat is graying and a cloudiness fills her marble-like eyes. I’ve been lying on the floor with her and looking into them, reflecting on her life. Did she live a good one? Am I living a good one?
The discussion of what constitutes a “good life” has been going on for 2.5 thousand years. Although it seems important to everybody, we never discussed it in school but for one day in Philosophy 101.
Despite being such an old topic, there is still much disagreement. Some say life is about maximizing pleasure, others argue it is about realizing your potential, some views are religious, others are nihilist. Perhaps we are too close to life to definitively say what makes a good one.
But once we stop talking about our own lives and start talking about dogs, we find some consensus.
All can agree a bad life for a dog is one locked in a cage all day and ignored. To do this to a dog is to rob him of his dogness. The part of him that wants to play in a field or socialize cannot be exercised in this cruel caged life.
Conversely, a good life for a dog is one where he can express lots of dogness, free to roam around and do dog things.
We are confident in saying this because we understand the dog’s reality. We have closely observed good and bad dog lives. They do not need to maximize pleasure or accept God as their one true lord and savior. Yet if we apply the same logic to ourselves, we often reject the idea that it could be so simple.
But what if it is? What if the key to a good life is to express lots of humanness?
Humanness means living according to our inner nature.
As a human, you desire some amount of social interaction, outside time, and movement. Beyond these universal urges, you have some unique to you. Certain activities, places, people, and problems pull at you more than others. You feel drawn toward some things for reasons you can not fully explain.
These desires are encoded inside you. Studies of animals raised in isolation found that beavers still build dams and spiders still spin webs. No one had to teach these animals to do these things, it is encoded in them as humanness is in us.
Unfortunately, many disregard their humanness, pushing it down in the name of pleasing others, because the #1 regret of the dying is “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”
In our quest for approval, we cage ourselves with other people’s expectations. We seek to please, avoid looking foolish, and wear a mask pretending to be somebody else.
This strategy may have worked well in the past, but sucks if you live in 2026. You won’t die if some people don’t like you and people will actually like you more for your authenticity.
I’ve spent my fair share of time in cages of my own making. I’ve worked at companies because other people thought they were prestigious, continued to date people to avoid disappointment, and pretended to share opinions to fit in.
But it’s never too late change. I’m doing things like moving to Kazakhstan and writing full-time. People think I’m fucking crazy but my intuition tells me it’s right for me.
As I scratch Shiloh, tufts of her hair float around and her stink transfers to my hand. It’s cool though, because the look on her face tells me she thinks life is good and I do too.
Thank you to Slobo and Eve Marsh for help with this piece.
Preach!!
Schnarf