Leaving at the Right Time

"Few people know the difficult art of leaving at the right time," Friedrich Nietzsche insisted. Poker players and Kenny Rogers agree with this nineteenth century German philosopher, "You gotta know when to hold ‘em, and know when to fold ‘em." And aren't we all playing poker with our lives, deciding when to hold and when to fold, when to stay and when to go? Nietzsche's challenge, recurring throughout his works, rings in our ears today: How can we live a life so full, so rich with experience, that it deserves repeating? Can we muster the courage to leave at the right time and seize fresh opportunities? Who is willing to take a chance on life? Does leave-taking necessarily include regret or can it be done positively? Moving forward clearly requires some form of good-bye. Note: good-bye! Let's look closely at the art of departure.

The starting and ending point for this investigation is, once again, a fresh analysis of what the good life entails. What is good living? How do you want to spend the time of your life? Many of my companions in philosophical conversation answer this query in a similar vein; they want a joyful life in which their humanity is stretched as far as possible. When we talk about the meaning of possibility, almost all admit that the future opens as far as they are willing to explore. It is an amazing world! What would prevent anyone from soaking up life's juice? The most common responses: Fear of change and loss of security keep us rooted in one spot; risk-taking, trying something new, dipping into the unknown...too daunting. The job, the relationship, or the town may well be a dead end, but at least it's a sure road. Or is it? Can anyone sidestep change?

From twentieth century France Simone de Beauvoir jumps into the mix. "There are people who are filled with such horror at the idea of a defeat that they keep themselves from ever doing anything. But no one would dream of considering this gloomy passivity as the triumph of freedom" (The Ethics of Ambiguity). She entices us to get up and step out. Swear off "sterile resignation" and lift the wheel out of the rut. For this jaunty existentialist, we are propelled into a future that is ours to create. How exciting, unless we resist the adventure and choose to retreat.

No one can move forward without leaving some things behind. But leaving need not be without appreciation for the former path that took you to a new horizon. Just as babies learn to take one step followed by (wow!) another, each of us keeps walking, the step before making the step that follows possible. Examples spring to mind of people in my life who are eagerly leaving their familiar routines to greet opportunities: A childhood friend left the town we share that she had called home for most of her life to begin anew in her daughter's hometown. She dearly and tearfully misses her friends and the community she fostered here, but she knowingly intones her repeated mantra that "it was time." One of my college students, a single mother with two young children, left home and her family's support for the first time to complete her education. Why? She could give herself and her boys a better life with a degree earned in a field she loved while studying in a welcoming community. A beloved and ultra-talented nurse practitioner left her practice and the patients to whom she was devoted. She wanted to be home with her young children. Can she miss her colleagues and her patients while loving her kids? Yes. A doctor pal cut his practice way back to try his hand at writing a book; shifting gears, he also serves as spokesperson for a group designing the "green" car of the future. Two friends left long-term relationships that stifled their individuality while still caring for their former partners and the lessons learned.

In all of these cases, my friends chose change; their circumstances gave them options. Change is forced upon so many in our society, and the possibility of a move or a switch in career gets swallowed by the struggle for survival. A "no exit" sign hangs on every door. De Beauvoir cheers on the disheartened and championed many of the underdog's causes in her own day: "Popular opinion is quite right in admiring a man who, having been ruined or having suffered an accident, knows how to gain the upper hand, that is, renew his engagement in the world, thereby strongly asserting the independence of freedom...." Hope hovers over every human life. Freedom is essential to the good life, and de Beauvoir demands that everyone work for the freedom of all.

In June I left my long-time job teaching philosophy at Piedmont Virginia Community College. Here is an excerpt from my "fare well" letter to the college community: "The last night of classes, as I walked from the classroom to the car at sunset, my socks (flip flops) were knocked off by pure emotion. I cried all the way home. It was the natural response of someone who has given it her all and loved doing it. Teaching at the College was a true vocation. Fortunately, it is one that travels well.... If there's a question I have asked my students more than any other, it is: ‘What about Love?' Among the things love is, it is what happened here for me." I will always be grateful for a "job" that fit like a well-oiled baseball mitt. Still, my two books hand me a chance to bring philosophy to a wider audience and to share the art of clear thinking in ever-changing ways; perhaps I'll write another book. Who knows? Not me! My glass looks half full, though, and rising. Sun sets. And sun rises.

While it may at first glance seem easier to stick with the old routine, trusting in and going with the decision bubbling at gut level eliminates regret for what might have been. I think my childhood friend and the nurse practitioner, all of the people mentioned, would agree: leaving can be hard, indeed remain bittersweet, and yet be the very best choice. Good living doesn't come without a price.

How do you describe the good life? Do you know people who grasp the difficult art of leaving at the right time? Have you mastered this art? How did/does it feel to quit while you're "ahead"? If you did some dropping off, what could you pick up? What capers await?!

Photo Copyright by Cackie Trippe McCarty