PROLOGUE
The Question That Started It All …
Does all this make you happy?
— Maasai elder
Richard explains how it all began.
Late one afternoon, on a trek through the highlands along the edge of the Serengeti Plains in East Africa, I experience a breakthrough.
East Africa is suffering one of the worst droughts in history. The vast plains are parched, stripped to dust. River beds run bone dry. Fields of lush grass have been reduced to patches of stiff straw, and the myriad flowers, normally painted in deep shades of green, blue, and mauve, are bleached of all color. Only the dust devils, whirling high overhead and then touching down on the hard, fractured ground, seem to prosper.
In the distance, over the scorched Serengeti, move enormous herds of animals — more than a million and a half strong — coming together in search of water and food, tracing the hoof-worn trails that are the highways of their migratory route. They pour steadily across the plains in a broad stream several miles long. It is an extraordinary spectacle, unlike anything else on earth.
The sun is setting, creating water mirages that appear and disappear before our eyes. But the intense heat lingers like a bad dream. It has drained us of all energy. We ride along in our Land Rover, like so many rag dolls strapped in our seats. Small cracks in the vehicle’s frame vacuum in clouds of dust that blanket us. The fine silt seeps into our pores until our own bodies feel as dry as the surrounding terrain.
As the leader of this group of twelve midlife adventurers who have traveled 7000 miles on this “Inventure Expedition” to come face-to-face with Africa and themselves, I feel especially exhausted. The responsibility of assuring their safety and continued involvement in our process is, at times, almost as oppressive as the heat.
We pull into Magaduru, a small Maasai village in the highlands above the Serengeti. We will be camping here for the night before the start of our backpacking trek in the morning.
A tall, lean Maasai man of aristocratic bearing springs upon our group. He plunges the shaft of his spear into the ground and stands in the pose of the heron, balancing on one foot, bracing the other on the inner thigh of the supporting leg. He adjusts the small sword that hangs on his waist, then throws a worn blanket around his body, with a confidence that imparts style and grace to this simple gesture. His dark, penetrating eyes survey us as if scouting the windswept plain that lies behind. No emotion is revealed on his proud, serious face.
Then suddenly, he breaks into a broad smile and greets us in English and Kiswahili.
“Jambo! Welcome to my boma!”
He talks rapidly with our guide, David Peterson, first fixing his gaze on us, then nodding in the direction of his nearby cattle. Loud laughter erupts from the bushes where women and children are hiding.
David smiles. “He hopes the smell of cattle dung is not too strong for you!”
This breaks the ice. Our laughter fills the air, joining that of our greeter. He introduces himself as Thaddeus Ole Koyie, the village leader. Gripping my hands firmly, he invites our group to be his guests.
In the lively conversation that follows, Koyie, who will be our Maasai guide for the upcoming trek, tells us that he has been educated at missionary school, where he learned to speak English. He does not explain, though, why he has turned his back on “modern” ways. Clearly, he is an influential elder, particularly for a man who is only forty. But there is something more and it implies a powerful sense of place and deep contentment with village life.
The Maasai are intensely communicative in the company of people they know. For reasons of their own, however, they are aloof and suspicious toward strangers. Happily, we don’t remain strangers for long.
All of us are quite taken with Koyie. A gregarious and witty man, he has the uncanny ability to move easily between the two worlds of our group and his village, transcending the barriers of language and custom. That night, around the small campfire, when he speaks of the drought, tears glisten in his eyes. Through his passionate eloquence we come to understand that drought, to the Maasai, is very nearly a death sentence.
Early next morning, as we leave Koyie’s boma on our trek, I proudly sport a brand-new backpack. It is one of those high-tech ultra-light models designed for maximum cargo-carrying efficiency. You know the kind — covered with snaps, clasps, and zippers, full of pockets and pouches, compartments inside compartments, a veritable Velcro heaven — and I have the thing stuffed. I’m a walking advertisement for a Patagonia or L.L. Bean catalogue. But of course, I have to be. As expedition leader, I’m responsible for the entire group. So, in addition to the required group-size first aid kit, I’ve also been sure to bring along items that will make our trek not just safe, but enjoyable. I’m no Boy Scout, but I certainly subscribe to the motto, “Be prepared.” And I have made it a point to be prepared for just about anything.
As we walk along, Koyie keeps glancing at my pack. Time and again, I see him mentally comparing the heavy load I carry with his own, which is nothing more than a spear and a stick used for cattle-tending. Eventually we get to talking about my backpack, and he expresses his eagerness to see its contents. Pleased at how impressed he appears to be, I offer to show him my stuff. I look forward to letting him see how carefully I’ve prepared for our journey and how ready for anything I am.
The opportunity presents itself late that afternoon as we are setting up camp near another boma. Proudly I commence to lay out for him everything in my pack. I unsnap snaps, unzip zippers, and un-Velcro Velcro. From pouches, pockets, and compartments I produce all sorts of strange and wonderful items. Eating utensils, cutting devices, digging tools. Direction finders, star gazers, map readers. Things to write with, on, and for. Various garments in various sizes for various functions. Medical supplies, remedies, and cures. Little bottles inside little bottles inside little bottles. Waterproof bags for everything. Amazing stuff!
At length I have all the gear spread out. It looks like that photo they always have in the centerfold of “great explorer” articles, that shows everything necessary for a successful trip to the farthest reaches of the planet. Needless to say I’m pretty satisfied with my collection.
I look over at Koyie to gauge his reaction. He seems amused, but he is silent. I understand. Surveying the items arrayed about us, I don’t know quite what to say, either.
Finally, after several minutes of just gazing at everything, Koyie turns to me and asks very simply, but with great intensity:
“Does all this make you happy?”
There was something very powerful about Koyie’s question. His words seemed to hit right at the heart of my deepest values. I honestly couldn’t answer him that evening, and even weeks afterwards, I couldn’t completely say for sure.
In a split second his question had gotten me to think about all that I was carrying and why — not just on our trek, but through my entire life.
Compelled by a need to explain it to Koyie — and myself — I immediately began going through all that I had, trying to decide if it did make me happy. He and I sat around the fire and talked long into the night. As he listened to me, I listened also, for I found that I was clarifying the essentials of my life.
In response to the question I began to realize the truth. Some of the things did make me happy, but many of them didn’t — at least not in any way that made sense to be dragging them along. So as I repacked I set those things aside, and eventually, gave them to the local villages. I went on the rest of the trek without them. I’m not sure that I’ll never want or need them again, but I certainly didn’t suffer for not having them at the time.
My load was much lighter after I’d re-examined my needs. And on the rest of the trip, I was quite a bit happier for having repacked my bags.
As a result of this experience I began to assemble my thoughts and feelings about how to lighten my life’s load. The insight I’ve gained has contributed to, and been informed by, my work as a life coach. In discussions with clients, colleagues, and family members I’ve developed a new understanding of how important it is to regularly unpack and repack our bags throughout our lives.
As my co-author, David, and I have worked with these thoughts, we’ve made a number of discoveries that are at the core of this book.
• We’ve discovered that many people are laboring through their lives, weighed down by attachments that no longer serve them. Patterns of behavior that have helped them get where they are, aren’t helping them get where they want to be. As a result, many people feel overwhelmed. At the same time, many are questioning the point of it all. They’re wondering if what they’re working so hard for is really worth it. Time and again we hear people say things something like, “I don’t even feel like I’m living my life. What’s it all for? What is my true purpose? What is my life really all about?” In short, we hear them asking for a sense of authenticity: a clearly rendered, easily understandable, and most importantly, individualized conception of happiness or the good life. This is what we explore in Chapter 1, What Is the Good Life?
• We’ve discovered that it is possible to simplify one’s life without sacrificing the conveniences and comforts we’ve come to expect. We can give up without giving in. By having less in our lives, we can get more out of life. To get to this place, we have to figure out what really matters. We have to examine what’s in our bags and decide for ourselves if it’s really what we want to be carrying. This is the focus of Chapter 2, Unpacking Your Bags.
• We’ve developed a new appreciation for what the “good life” entails and how important it is that, in creating a vision of the good life for ourselves, we take into account four critical factors: Work, Love, Place, and Purpose. The first three of these are considered in turn, in Chapter 3, Repacking Your Place Bag, Chapter 4, Repacking Your Relationship Bag, and Chapter 5, Repacking Your Work Bag.
• We’ve learned that it’s not just what we carry “in our bags” that determines the quality of our lives; it’s also, more importantly, why we carry what we do. That’s the Purpose component. It’s vital to become clear about our life’s purpose so that we can carry what we’re carrying with balance, fortitude, and joy. With that in mind, we’ve found that happiness has more to do with experiencing than with having. Having is great, but it’s not it. For most of us, what we’re really looking for is a feeling — a feeling of aliveness. This is what Chapter 6, Repacking On Purpose, is all about.
• Finally, we’ve come to understand that repacking is a process that doesn’t end; it’s a mindset and an approach to living that goes on continually. Living with passion and purpose means that we must consistently re-evaluate our lives and make changes — usually subtle, but sometimes more significant — to rebalance what we’re carrying and why. This is the focus of Chapter 7, The Freedom of the Road, as well as the Epilogue, Lightening Your Load.
Over the past two decades we’ve thought a lot about the lessons of Repacking, and our questions and our learning have continued. The conversations we’ve had sitting around late night fires and trekking across windswept plains have given us insight into ourselves and our culture. These experiences remind us that the freedom to choose is not something we have — and can therefore lose — but something we are. It is of our deepest essence, just waiting to be unpacked.
At every moment, in every situation, we are free to choose a simpler expression of our being. We always have the potential to unpack, lighten our loads, and repack.
For many of us it takes a crisis, midlife or other, to get us even thinking about what we’re carrying. And then, unfortunately, we tend to make decisions from within the crisis. Instead of pausing to reconsider, in a purposeful manner, what we’ve brought along and why, we’re apt to cast everything off and just run. Instead of making rational decisions that prepare us for what’s ahead, we tend to come from a position of panic or fear — and the choices we make reflect that.
We can use a process for repacking our bags to stimulate thought on this issue in calmer times. We can reflect on our lives in a manner that helps us sort out what’s really important — what makes us happy — from what’s just weighing us down. We can then map out a new road ahead, one that will get us where we really want to go, with the things we really want to bring along the way.
And that, in a nutshell — or should we say backpack — is what this book is all about.
So Who Needs This Book?
Increasingly of late, people have shared with us questions like these:
• “What’s next for me?”
• “Why doesn’t all this make me happy?”
• “Who do I want to be when I grow up?”
• “How can I find my life’s work?”
• “How can I re-imagine my life?”
If any of these echo your own feelings, then Repacking Your Bags: Lighten Your Load for the Good Life is for you.
It’s particularly appropriate if you find yourself at a place in your life where past patterns are weighing you down. If the person you’ve always been isn’t the person you want to be at this point in your life.
This isn’t a book for people who believe that lightening their load means they have to sell all their possessions and move to the woods or an ashram in India. It’s for people involved in the day-to-day struggle of juggling work, home, and relationship demands in a way that enables them to make ends meet while burning the candle at both.
Repacking is for businesspeople, professionals, homemakers, students, and retirees — in short, everyone who needs to prepare for and embrace what’s next in their lives.
For those of you facing midlife and beyond — no doubt a very different sort of second half than previous generations faced — Repacking may have special appeal. Similarly, for those of you just starting out in your adult lives, Repacking can offer guidance and direction you may find particularly useful. Finally, if you’re someone who has recently experienced (or is about to experience) a major transition in your life — a job loss, a relocation, a relationship change — then Repacking can act as a compass as you get your bearings for the journey ahead.
Repacking starts with the assumption that everyone has a different definition of the good life. Therefore, in order to achieve an authentic experience of our own good life, each of us must reflect and choose. Repacking offers an approach to do that — an approach that is innovative in three ways.
First, by providing a generic formula for the good life into which you can plug your own specifics, Repacking enables you to shape your own vision of what the good life means to you, personally.
Second, Repacking encourages you to reflect on and commit to your vision of the good life through an emphasis on “courageous conversation” — with yourself and others.
Third, Repacking uses the metaphor of travel to help remind you that life is a journey and that your experience on the way is inextricably bound up in the baggage — emotional, intellectual, and physical — that you are carrying.
Essentially, it’s about choice — but choice that springs from inner needs and a whole person perspective.
The ability to repack our bags and make choices that move us in new, more fulfilling directions is a power that lies within us all. Our experience with Repacking Your Bags has helped us do that, and we hope that your experience with Repacking can do the same for you.
Ultimately, we’re all in transition — always. And what repacking as a metaphor teaches us is that having a process to help navigate those transitions is the key to living our ongoing vision of the good life.
Of course, there are many ways to engage that process and you’ll discover your own as you proceed. But perhaps the best way to get going is to begin with the question at the root of it all:
Does all this make you happy?