Let’s say I’ve got a shirt. It’s a great shirt. In fact, I’d say it’s the best shirt ever.
And for me, that might be true. It fits perfectly. The color accentuates my complexion nicely. The material goes with the rest of my wardrobe, and it’s suitable for all kinds of weather. Perfect for someone who travels as much as I do.
If someone asked me which shirt was the best shirt, I would have an answer for them, but it wouldn’t be a complete answer. In reality, I would be telling them about the best shirt for me, not the best shirt on an absolute level. Other people have different shapes, different complexions, different style preferences and favorite fabrics and lifestyles for which their clothing needs to be suitable.
To maintain complete honesty, I would have to say, “This shirt works best for me, as my priorities stand today.” It’s truthful, but not captivating. It’s not a rallying cry for that shirt. It’s not something that’s likely to get people to try it on.
The same is true of philosophies and ideas and methodologies of all shapes and sizes. When I or anyone else talks about some amazing way of working, or some remarkable lifestyle, or some exciting philosophical standpoint, what we’re really talking about is what works for us: our circumstances, our lifestyle preferences, our goals, and our personalities.
That being said, speaking without some sense of certitude doesn’t inspire people to try on new ideas for size, and that’s a goal worth achieving. Hence, the massive number of absolute statements you’ll come across in a given day.
My suggestion is to keep in mind that there are no absolutes in the pursuit of happiness. Then, go walk down as many different paths as you can. You can’t know which is the best route toward a more ideal lifestyle until you’ve traced out a decent map of your options.
It’s unlikely you’ll find a shirt in someone else’s closet that fits you perfectly, but there’s a good chance you’ll be able to cobble one together from bits and pieces taken from several different wardrobes.