My high school guidance counselor told one of my teammates, “Dennis, don’t waste your life like Webb Hubbell did, by going to the University of Arkansas to play football.” I’ve laughed about her prediction for over sixty years. Then comes Maria Popova this week who writes in her weekly column about wasting our life. She quotes Hawthorne and Nietzsche and makes me wonder again, “Did I waste my life?”
My guidance counselor’s dismissive prediction—that a choice like attending the University of Arkansas would constitute a “wasted life”—serves as a potent, if narrow, initial definition of success. That sixty-year-old memory, now stirred by Maria’s contemporary philosophical discourse, forced me into introspection this morning. “Was that youthful choice, or any subsequent detour, a waste?”
While I agree with the sentiment expressed by Hawthorne—that “All sorts of persons, and every individual, has a place to fill in the world,”—I find the reality of human purpose far less static. Life is not a simple, predetermined equation. The idea that we are given one singular path, one “God’s intention,” to be either discovered early or missed entirely, is paralyzing and inaccurate.
Most lives are not linear narratives; they are processes.
A young man may begin with a passionate dedication to sports, only to be redirected. He may then pursue teaching, find love, and pivot into business. But the journey doesn’t stop there. The search for genuine purpose may span five or six more vocations, each one adding necessary experience and clarity. Very few individuals know, or are capable of fulfilling, their true “place” at a young age.
The concept of a “wasted life” must be redefined based on a multi-vocation reality. Wasting one’s life is not about the failures, the wrong colleges, or the early career false starts. These are simply the necessary materials that pave the road.
I have come to believe that not wasting a life is judged not by our first days, but by our last.
A life is redeemed and validated when, at the point of maturity, the individual finally integrates all those disparate experiences and finds a genuine, meaningful calling. The wisdom gained from the detours makes the final iteration of purpose—the “last days” clarity—the ultimate measure of a life well-spent. The true purpose, therefore, is not to avoid wrong turns, but to continually pivot toward engagement, ensuring that the final chapter is defined by discovery, not regret.
If I were to meet my guidance counselor now, I would suggest against her prediction about my future. Human experience is marked by multiple, evolving vocations, where early choices and perceived failures are merely iterative steps. Ultimately, the worth of a life should not be assessed by youthful goals or early failures, but by the final, mature state of purpose and integration achieved in its closing chapters.
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