This sign I have had ever since I was a child. The sign is a voice which comes to me and always forbids me to do something which I am going to do, but never commands me to do anything.”
The words above were written by Socrates just before his historic trial and death in 399 B.C. The Greek philosopher and teacher was put on trial after asking the wrong types of questions to his students. His queries lead the government to charge him with moral corruption and impiety. Despite having the opportunity to flee Athens, Socrates decided to stay and face his accusers head on, fully aware of the fatal implications.
Plato, a student of Socrates, wrote the “Apology of Socrates,” containing Socrates’ trial defense and final words. In it, as seen in the quote above, Socrates discusses an inner voice that has guided him. Often referred to as a daemon, this mystical voice from within is apparently what told Socrates not to run and hide from his accusers and to face his impending execution. As a result, Socrates died on his own terms: not as a coward, but instead as an intellectual, forever immortalizing himself and more importantly his teachings through his decision.
What Socrates said about his inner voice (and learning of what exactly a daemon is) assigned a word to and described a phenomenon that I am trying to trust in my own life: the idea that knowing what not to do is just as important as knowing what to do.
Growing up, it is easy to view college as the time in everyone’s life when they figure everything out, spending four years carefully aligning their future into place with intention. The reality can be the complete opposite. College can rapidly become more chaos than order, more questions than answers, more confusion than clarity.
There are rarely defined answers to life’s biggest questions, but even if you are aware of this, the fog of an uncertain future is enough to blind you and rattle you to the core with anxiety. We see our peers and their prestigious internships and job offers and assume we are the only ones lost and unsure of what to do or where to go. Suddenly, we feel a pressure to figure out our exact career and life itinerary and follow it exactly, but the only result is an unpleasant college experience, riddled with fruitless worrying.
In my first semester on campus, I was told the future was in finance. So, like the good business student I was, I confidently checked the box that made me a finance major, despite knowing nothing about it. To learn more about opportunities out there, I attended weekly meetings for the Student Finance Group and Student Investment Club. These are fine organizations, but I absolutely hated going to the meetings. Each week, they would bring in a guest speaker from an area in finance, and I would think, “Man, I would hate to be doing that.”
For a while, I viewed my time in these clubs as a colossal waste of time, but upon further reflection, it might have ended up being one of the most useful experiences I’ve had in college. The entire time, I could hear my gut telling me, “What are you even doing here?” I may not have left with a new company or career to strive for, but I did learn what I didn’t want to do, which is equally as valuable.
It is very rare when you actually know what to do with your life, but that is OK. You don’t always need to know what the next move is. Knowing what to set aside and walk away from is enough. For every road you eliminate, you are orienting yourself more properly and taking one step closer to what is best. College isn’t a time to gather all the answers, but instead a time to learn to trust your gut and develop confidence in your discernment of right and wrong, good and bad. Outside pressures are very real, but only you know what you truly want; so you might as well listen.
Andrew Hall is a UF management senior. His column appears on Fridays.
