Editors' Corner: In Defense of Living for the Feeling

By: Erin Choi

I’ve been acting on all of my whims. The Google definition for a whim is as follows: “A sudden desire or change of mind, especially one that is unusual or unexplained.” Our whims are us telling ourselves what is going to fulfill us. And they’re always true. 
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Throughout high school, but especially as an upper, I’ve been made to feel by a lot of people that I’ve been doing Exeter the wrong way; I’m not doing as “well” as people think I could be doing here. I don’t have the best GPA or the most competitive list of extracurriculars. I somehow end up going to sleep between 2:00 and 4:00 am every night. Because I’m not a disciplined, high-achieving, organized student, I’m told so often that I need to change my approach and do “better.” 

But honestly, I like where I’m at right now—because “success” is not what I’ve been pursuing. I’ve always been searching for what feels right. 
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In Latin this term, we’ve been reading Horace—he’s the guy who coined carpe diem. While he uses this phrase in I.11, where he tells us life is short and we don’t have time to worry about long-term hopes, I want to talk about I.9. 

In this ode, Horace says that in cold winter, we should bring out lots of firewood and wine. In harsh circumstances, we should focus on fostering our own warmth and festivity. He then implores us: permitte divis cetera—leave all else to the gods. Nothing beyond our immediate self-care is really in our control. Therefore, it’s not worth it for us to be concerned about anything else.
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Some people seem to interpret my lack of a concrete, long-term plan as me not taking myself seriously, not thinking I’m worth that much thought or effort. But that couldn’t be less true. It’s actually a sign of confidence: I trust myself and love myself enough to know that because I want to be happy, I’m going to be happy. 

In Latin class and in quite a few spontaneous Grill conversations, I’ve been discussing the idea of fate a lot. Many people seem to find comfort in the idea of a predetermined path—in times of hardship, they remind themselves that God has a plan. 

I don’t think there’s a God who has already carved out my future, nor do I believe in three sisters who will spin out the thread of my life, waiting to cut it. But I still have that same sense of security I’m going to be okay. I’ve come to a sense of deep peace that, no matter where I go from here or what I end up doing, I’m going to be happy. I don’t need a specific set of circumstances to be happy—faith in my instincts is all I really need. 

I’ve filmed TikTok dances with people in the common room, only to realize that people can see us from the quad. One night, I spent two hours poring over Mrs. Dalloway, neglecting sleep and my other subjects. Over Winter Thaw, I lost track of time staring at Monet water lilies while listening to Ravel and consequently missed my train back to Exeter. I randomly called up my crush because my instincts said I would do better after hearing an official rejection. Oftentimes, I don’t leave the piano for hours, even though I haven’t started my homework. I even wrote this op-ed instead of working on my chem lab. 

I make these decisions purely because, in the moment, they feel right. And I don’t have any regrets. All these choices have brought me raw, intense emotions: fun, embarrassment, elation, vulnerability. My whims, it seems, always push me to feel more and learn more. 

“Trust your gut” is something people say a lot. I suppose my current philosophy is that my instincts are what’s most true to me and that a raw, honest existence is the most fulfilling one.
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We’re really goal-oriented here at Exeter. It seems that most of us live for the next step: college, grad school, work. I’ve felt so immature, like I’m not doing or thinking enough, to not have a specific future school or career that I’m working towards. Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking a lot about manifestation: taking your goals and somehow turning them into reality. 

I’ve been warned by sighswoon that I shouldn’t strive for anything that depends on others changing because that attitude is grounded in a false sense of entitlement—the feeling that I deserve to control anything outside of myself. It would be entitled of me to live my life chasing acceptance from my crush, success as defined by the Harvard Admissions Office or a letter from a McKinsey recruiter years down the line. I can’t go forward trying to manifest a reality that depends upon other people’s specific decisions. 

That leaves me with only one pursuit to chase in full faith and without shame: a life that feels right. 
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A lot of people see me as childish, reckless and naive for my in-the-moment approach to life. If they think I’m not making the smartest decisions all the time, that my decisions won’t always keep me the safest, I’ll admit that they’re completely right.

I don’t think about protecting myself or running from the incoming tides to the highest ground I can find. Instead, I’ll watch them come into shore, I’ll admire the way the waves glisten and dance, I’ll feel the saltwater rush over me, I’ll trust that it’s going to recede and I’ll have experienced more for it. Maybe it’s a reckless approach, one that doesn’t make sense. But I don’t understand why never running towards the wave is any better than drowning in it. 
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Particular careers or moral convictions are thought to be more respectable pursuits than pure feelings. Emotion is seen as fickle and unreliable, a hindrance to these nobler, larger purposes of our lives. 

We even see that people undermine or gaslight those speaking about the sheer emotional force of their oppression; the experiences of people of color, women and women of color are all too often discounted because their tones and stories are too “emotional.” We ignore or devalue perspectives for being tainted by feelings. The underlying assumption here is that feelings tell us nothing, but instead, they undermine a superior, perfect, objective truth.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned writing for The Exonian, it’s that combining each one of our perspectives is the only way to form a complete story. And ultimately, individual objectivity is such a construct—our views and understandings are inextricably tied to our own feelings. How can we say there is anything more important or truer than emotion when that’s the lens through which we experience our entire lives? 

Living for the feeling isn’t an ignorant way to live–it’s the fullest, most grounded way to live. Feeling isn’t just an inevitable byproduct that detracts from experience; it’s not even just an important part of the human experience. Feeling is the entire human experience. 

I’ve decided to stop feeling bad about wanting nothing more than to embrace all my emotions, because nothing teaches me more about myself, about the people around me and about the world I live in. I hope that pleasure is the dominant feeling, but I also beg that it isn’t the only one. I’m going to keep living in pursuit of whatever brings me the rawest, visceral, genuine feelings. 

Here’s a shoutout to everyone whose resume isn’t looking too padded right now, everyone who shot a risky shot that didn’t work, everyone who doesn’t know what office they want to work in 20 years down the line. If you’re angry, if you’re in love, if you don’t know how you feel right now. We’re not behind, and we’re not doing something wrong. Our feelings and whims will always be right, and they will lead us through our truest, most fulfilling lives. 

“Permitte divis cetera.”