Trade Self-Improvement Fixation for Lived Engagement
Stop trying to turn yourself into a better person; focus instead on leading a more absorbing life. — Oliver Burkeman
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
Why might this line matter today, not tomorrow?
From Self-Fixing to Self-Living
Oliver Burkeman’s line challenges the modern reflex to treat the self as a perpetual renovation project. Instead of asking how to become “better” in the abstract, he nudges us toward the more immediate question of how to live more fully—how to spend attention, time, and energy in ways that feel vivid and meaningful. This shift matters because “becoming a better person” can quietly turn into an endless postponement: life becomes preparation for life. By contrast, aiming for an absorbing life reframes growth as something that emerges while we’re engaged, not something we must complete before we’re allowed to begin.
The Trap of Infinite Optimization
The appeal of self-improvement is obvious: it offers control, metrics, and a reassuring sense of progress. Yet it can also become what some critics call the “optimization treadmill,” where each new habit, routine, or framework reveals further deficiencies to correct. The result is not necessarily virtue, but chronic self-monitoring. From here, Burkeman’s provocation becomes clearer: obsession with moral or personal refinement can crowd out direct experience. When every moment is evaluated for how it advances a plan—health, productivity, mindfulness, excellence—the lived texture of the moment can thin into mere instrumentality.
Absorption as an Antidote to Self-Preoccupation
An “absorbing life” points to those periods when self-consciousness fades because attention is anchored in something real: a craft, a conversation, a problem worth solving, a landscape, a community need. Psychological discussions of “flow,” popularized by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s work (e.g., *Flow*, 1990), describe this absorption as a state where action and awareness merge and rumination diminishes. Consequently, the quote suggests a counterintuitive route to becoming better: not by polishing the self directly, but by placing the self in situations that demand presence—where care, skill, and responsiveness grow organically.
A Life Built Around Commitments, Not Projects
If improvement culture often frames life as a sequence of personal projects, an absorbing life is structured more by commitments—things we return to because they matter, not because they perfect us. This can be as ordinary as showing up for a friend, learning an instrument, coaching a team, or tending a garden; the point is that the focus shifts outward, toward relationship and responsibility. In that light, “stop trying” does not mean stop learning or reflecting. It means letting reflection serve commitment, rather than replacing it—so that identity is shaped by what we do and sustain, not by what we promise ourselves we’ll fix next.
Imperfection as a Feature of Engagement
An absorbing life also makes room for imperfection, because real involvement is messy: you disappoint people, misjudge situations, lose patience, or make unglamorous trade-offs. Yet these are the very contexts in which character becomes tangible, not theoretical. Aristotle’s *Nicomachean Ethics* (c. 4th century BC) frames virtue less as a self-image and more as habituated action—practices formed through lived choices. Thus the quote carries a subtle relief: you need not resolve every internal flaw before participating. Participation itself—done earnestly and repeatedly—becomes the training ground where “better” is quietly forged.
Practical Reorientation: Choose the Next Worthwhile Thing
Taken seriously, Burkeman’s advice invites a simple reorientation: reduce time spent curating the self and increase time spent inhabiting life. Concretely, that might mean picking one or two activities that reliably absorb you, committing to a role that serves others, or setting limits on self-diagnostic media and endless habit-chasing. Over time, this creates a different feedback loop: instead of asking whether you are improving fast enough, you notice whether you are present enough. And in that presence—sustained across days—you may find that whatever “better person” you hoped to become arrives as a byproduct of living.