A Meaningful Life Takes Effort

Memories from Southern Brazil

When I was working as a researcher and lecturer at the University of Helsinki, I attended an international congress on Luther research in southern Brazil. One of the things that stayed with me was a short presentation about Aboriginal communities in Australia. At the time, there was particular concern about the severe difficulties facing some of these communities, including violence and substance abuse.

The Australian researcher spoke about the long history of exploitation and mistreatment following European settlement. Alongside this, he offered a perspective that caught my attention: what happens when the activities that have structured everyday life and given it meaning lose their place?

As I remember his account, finding water had played a central role in the traditional way of life of the communities he discussed. It involved knowledge, effort and a shared purpose. When that way of life changed, something more than a practical necessity was lost.

I would be cautious about drawing broad conclusions from a brief conference presentation. Aboriginal peoples have diverse cultures and histories, and the difficulties facing particular communities cannot be reduced to life becoming "too easy". Losing control over one's land, culture and way of life is a very different matter from enjoying the conveniences of modern society.

Still, the presentation left me thinking about a wider question: when we no longer have to make the same effort simply to survive, what do we choose to make an effort for?

Should We Go Looking for Problems?

Modern life has removed many burdens that earlier generations had little choice but to carry. Scientific and technological advances have made everyday life easier, and many of us have access to an abundance of food, information and entertainment.

These are real achievements. Yet they do not automatically tell us what to do with our lives.

We Finns, particularly those of us who are middle class or better off, live amid wealth and opportunities that our ancestors could hardly have imagined even 150, 100 or 50 years ago. At the same time, even a country celebrated for its happiness struggles with loneliness, physical inactivity, substance abuse, social exclusion and a lack of meaning.

There is no need to deny the improvements in our living conditions to recognise that a comfortable life can still feel empty. Material progress does not, by itself, answer the question of what makes life worth living.

Should we therefore make life harder?

I do not think so. For a start, deliberately giving up the benefits of progress is unlikely to appeal to most people. Human nature being what it is, we rarely want to surrender advantages we have already gained. Nor do I think we should assume that doing so would make our lives better.

Of course, some people long for a simpler way of life. Fortunately, a free society allows room for that choice too. Some want fewer possessions and fewer demands on their attention. Others may be motivated by their convictions—for example, a desire to conserve the planet's resources.

There can be a great deal of wisdom in such choices. But I would rather look to the future than try to recreate the past.

How could we find a better balance in a society overflowing with stimulation and calories, while still enjoying the comforts and opportunities that progress has brought us? To my mind, that is a more useful question than how to turn back the clock. Many human advances have responded to genuine needs.

There is also an ethical question here. I value individual freedom and the opportunity to build a life that reflects one's own convictions. I would be wary of a society that tried to impose one supposedly virtuous way of living on everyone.

This does not mean that every attempt to influence our choices is an attack on freedom. There is a difference between controlling people's entire way of life and using limited, justified measures to reduce harm and make healthier choices more accessible.

Taxes on alcohol and tobacco are familiar examples. So is financial support that enables children and young people from low-income families to take part in sport. The purpose should be to improve people's opportunities to live well, while leaving room for their own decisions.

We do not need to go looking for problems in the hope of returning to some lost "paradise" that never existed. We should instead ask how the conveniences of the modern world can help us build better and more meaningful lives.

Technology has already benefited my own training as a competitive athlete in many ways. I can record my exercise technique and see things I would otherwise miss. I can also use measurements to help assess training stress and recovery, alongside how I actually feel and perform.

Technology has made learning more accessible too. I can listen to an audiobook while out walking. An ordinary walk can give me fresh air, movement and something new to think about.

I see no reason why technology cannot continue to support both our health and our sense of meaning. Like money and abundance, it is a good servant but a bad master.

What Is Worth Making an Effort For?

We can work towards a better world through our participation in society. In a democracy, we have opportunities to influence our shared future, and their importance should not be underestimated.

We can vote for people whose aims we consider worthwhile. We can take part in our communities, support others or work for changes we believe are needed. There are countless ways to make the world a little better.

Even if our own contribution seems like a drop in the ocean, it is worth remembering that an ocean, too, is made up of drops.

Making an effort for the common good can also bring something valuable into our own lives: the experience that what we do matters to someone beyond ourselves. I think there is a deep longing for this today.

Often, that meaning grows through small and repeated actions. Showing up. Keeping a promise. Helping someone. Taking care of something that has been entrusted to us.

In this respect, I think Aristotle was right: our habits shape the people we become. And developing good habits often takes effort. A worthwhile life is built, at least partly, through what we repeatedly choose to do.

The most concrete influence we have is over our own actions. Many of us have an extraordinary range of opportunities compared with earlier generations. It would be a shame to let them pass us by.

Of course, our circumstances differ. Illness, poverty, exhaustion and other burdens can limit the choices available to us. Small steps will not solve every problem, and sometimes we need help before we can take them.

Even so, there is often something within our reach that could make life a little better. The fact that we cannot change everything does not make that small possibility worthless.

What Bodybuilding Has Taught Me About a Good Life

For me, bodybuilding offers a concrete example of purposeful effort. At its best, especially in its drug-free competitive form, it is a surprisingly holistic pursuit.

Hard training alone will not take you very far.

Becoming a good bodybuilder or fitness athlete requires a continual search for balance. Training must be demanding enough to produce progress, but it must also leave room for recovery. Nutrition matters, but so do sleep, rest and the demands of everyday life.

Over time, the picture becomes wider still: work, relationships, finances, recreation, other interests and nurturing one's spiritual life all have a place. These things need to fit together in a way that is healthy and sustainable.

That balance is not something we find once and then keep forever. It needs attention as life changes.

There is also a temptation in sport to assume that more effort is always better. Yet sometimes the wiser choice is to rest, eat more, reduce training or give attention to something outside the gym. Learning when to push and when to ease off is part of the work.

I think the same is true of life more generally. Meaningful effort requires some judgment about what deserves our energy and what kind of life our habits are creating.

Bodybuilding can be one worthwhile expression of this, but it is hardly the only one. Raising children, caring for another person, learning a skill, creating something or serving a community can all call us beyond immediate comfort.

Nor does every moment have to be productive. Rest, pleasure and simply enjoying life belong in a good life too. I certainly would not want a life from which they had been removed.

But ease and pleasure alone are a limited foundation for a life. We also need things that matter enough for us to give something of ourselves.

For me, good bodybuilding and a good life share this pursuit: building something balanced and meaningful through small, worthwhile steps in everyday life. That is worth making an effort for.

A Final Memory from Brazil

There was another aspect of the presentation in Brazil that stayed with me. The researcher described German Lutheran missionaries who had learned Aboriginal languages and sought to understand the cultures of the people among whom they worked. Some had also criticised the actions and ambitions of colonial authorities.

That does not place mission work outside the history of colonialism or erase the wrongs associated with it. Learning someone's language does not, by itself, guarantee that we respect their freedom or understand their world.

Still, I think it matters that we recognise efforts to listen, learn and defend others, even within a complicated history. We should be able to acknowledge both the good that people did and the harm in which they participated.

At the same conference, I met the Namibian bishop Tomas Shivute, who had studied in Finland. He was a very pleasant man, and the international guests were quite surprised when we began chatting in fluent Finnish. Finland and Namibia have longstanding ties, shaped in part by Finnish missionaries and by the work of our former president, Martti Ahtisaari. Against that background, our little chat was perhaps less surprising than it seemed.

In any case, it remains a warm memory. It also brings me back to the question that runs through this whole reflection. Learning another person's language, understanding their world and building a relationship all take effort.

Modern conveniences can give us more room for such things. What we do with that room is a question worth asking.