I wasn’t expecting to discover much about myself in a twenty minute Uber ride I took last week. In fact, I really only planned on scrolling quietly on my phone as we weaved through the evening D.C. traffic. But somewhere along the way, maybe five or so blocks in, my driver broke the silence with a question:
“Do you live for yourself, or do you live for others?”
Now you may be thinking: “Huh? That’s a peculiar question to ask a stranger.” But at that moment, I found that I wasn’t completely thrown off. In many ways, it’s the question I ask myself daily — whether consciously or not. Aren’t we all constantly balancing the demands of others with our own desires, wondering if the decisions we make reflect who we truly are, or if they’re just a reflection of the expectations placed upon us?
I don’t believe the question was meant to be judgemental. However, I will admit that my initial reaction was tinged with defensiveness. I sat with it for a moment, my mind sifting through the layers of my daily routines and aspirations. Am I making choices for my own happiness, or am I fulfilling roles assigned to me by the world around me? When and how did I even decide what I like or dislike? How can I even remember who I was a year ago and what that person wanted?
I was brought back to my junior year of high school, when we were assigned to read Joan Didion’s essay, “On Keeping a Notebook.” She writes,
“Why did I write it down? In order to remember, of course, but exactly what was it I wanted to remember? How much of it actually happened? Did any of it?”
At the time, Didion’s words haunted me. I worried that if I didn’t cultivate a relationship with my own mind, I would never learn who I was. I feared that I would lose my memories if I didn’t write them down, and so I fervently attempted to take up her practice. But, for a teenager with an endless stream of consciousness barreling through my head at all times, I couldn’t bring myself to journal my thoughts. It felt tedious, isolating and pointless to write to no other reader but myself.
There is limited time allotted to each person’s life, and that time will always move at a constant speed. But emotions like excitement or panic cause us to think or act quickly, while sorrow or caution can slow down our thoughts and actions. Sometimes a moment can extend for ages, and others disappear without ever really sinking in. Emotion shapes how we remember, giving certain moments more weight than others. But in my experience, it’s storytelling that brings life to those memories, turning them into something more than just an inventory of recollections.
I have now come to realize why I was never drawn to a private notebook. It wasn’t because I lacked a desire to untangle from and interpret my surroundings. Instead, it was because I was already storytelling and processing my life via the close relationships I have with my sisters. We share everything openly, and we remember each other’s stories as well as we do our own. My sisters are my constant companions, to whose lives I am honored to bear witness. They are my Didion notebooks, and I am theirs.
For the rest of my Uber ride, my new friend and I jumped into a lively discussion as he rattled off more and more questions — Do you love your country? What makes you want to wake up in the morning? Are you grateful for what you have? Do you order your own plate of food, or do you like to share? How many pairs of shoes do you have? — We laughed when I answered honestly about my shoes, and smiled at how similar two different people’s lives can be.
So, should we live for ourselves, or for others? I believe we thrive when we live for and with each other. Whether it’s with my family, a stranger, or you, dear reader, the exchange of ideas and emotional connection deepens the bonds of our shared humanity. I reject the solitary life of a private notebook keeper and choose to immerse myself in community. Of course, I won’t dismiss the value journaling holds as a practice in many people’s lives. But, at least for me, I feel most alive when I don’t just live for myself, but I share my life with those around me.
Meher Sandhu ’25 can be reached at meher_sandhu@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
