“Ordinary life does not interest me,” author Anaïs Nin once wrote in her journal:

“I seek only the high moments…I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.” ¹

Most of us have felt underwhelmed while trimming our hedgerows or squeegeeing our car windows, but should we shun the idea of an “ordinary life?”

In recent decades we’ve seen more and more examples of individuals who, shirking traditional expectations of career, relationships, and security, take off on adventurous (and sometimes lonesome) jaunts around the world – often for years at a time. Others dedicate themselves wholly to a niche pursuit or focus on seeking out dramatic experiences that will create rich and vivid memories, even if not all of them are pleasant ones.

Psychology professor Shigehiro Oishi recently coined a term for this worldview: that of the “psychologically rich life.” ²

But is richness compatible with happiness? Is one better than the other – or are they simply different aspects of something broader still?

Life “Beyond Happiness and Meaning”

The psychology community has traditionally defined “the good life” in two different ways: “hedonic” (also known as “happy”) and “eudaimonic” (also known as “meaningful”). 

According to this definition, a hedonic life consists of the most fundamental human comforts and wants, such as money, stability, relationships, and health, while a eudaimonic life is one focused on meaning and purpose. ³ To put it all together in an example, a happily married debt-free surgeon with a successful practice who lives in an upscale neighborhood surrounded by friends, family, and grateful clients is probably someone who enjoys both a hedonic and eudaimonic life.

Professor Oishi, however, argues that these two definitions create a false dichotomy and proposes a third way in his paper, “A Psychologically Rich Life: Beyond Happiness and Meaning.”

A rich life, according to Oishi, is one defined not by pleasure, security, or even purpose, but rather by new, life-changing experiences. To use our same analogy, our successful surgeon may not in fact have much novelty or even memorable moments in her typical day: her life, while comfortable, lacks perspective and the years blur together. On her deathbed, she may even struggle to say that her life was all that interesting. 

On the other hand, the restless pilgrim who travels the world in search of adventure may not hit many traditional “milestones” like marriage or a stable career, but he has a ready list of intense, striking experiences to reflect upon. He may not have a plan for retirement, and some of his experiences may have been difficult or even harrowing, but his brain holds a wealth of memories and he can easily say that he’s maximized his time on earth.

Discussions of well-being and what a good life “should” look like easily fall into arguments, because they tend to reflect personal values and choices. The traditional camp may look down on the “richness seekers” for being impractical, and the richness seekers may become defensive and attack the other side for being boring or even oppressive.

Oishi himself makes it clear that both the hedonic and eudaimonic life are not necessarily at odds with the psychologically rich life. Rather, all three are different “dimensions” of living a good life. The tantalizing suggestion here is that we can incorporate all three if we wish.

Doing so, however, first requires some understanding of both life and ourselves.

Novelty and Stability: A Balancing Act

Why is it that many, if not most, of us remember our most vivid and interesting experiences taking place in youth and young adulthood?

There are plenty of theories, but one that holds a lot of currency is that of novelty. When you’re younger, you’re going through a lot of “firsts”: first job, first relationship, first time getting into a traffic accident and learning that it’s not the end of the world.

You are also likely to explore and try new things during this time in your life because, after all, you aren’t tied down yet to bigger life commitments. Studying abroad, gap years, interesting internships – these life-enriching experiences often happen when we’re in our early twenties when most doors of possibility are still waiting wide open.

Psychologists have even created a term for this phenomenon: “the reminiscence bump.”

While it’s easier to find novelty when you’re younger, novelty is available to any of us at any time in life.

There are two things to consider here when trying to reconcile this seeming fact about youth and novel experience with living a good life:

The first is that while it’s easier to find novelty when you’re younger, novelty is available to any of us at any time in life. We might just have to be a little more creative if we want to experience novelty while still being a homeowner and C-level executive: rather than spend our vacation at a luxury resort in the Bahamas, for example, we could spend it volunteering in a Cambodian village and arguably generate a much richer, longer list of memories in the same amount of time.

Second, there is a time and a season for everything. Novelty is great, but our lives naturally aren’t filled with it from beginning to end, and “that’s probably a good thing,” according to authors and researchers Dan and Chip Heath: 

“Because it would be very easy to create a second reminiscence bump late in life. Just divorce your spouse, quit your job, move to New Zealand, and become a shepherd. Plenty of novelty there, and you’re certain to write a rush of memories. But let’s not confuse memorability with wisdom.” ⁴

Of course, some people will engineer their lives to experience constant novelty (hopefully along with wisdom) and that is ultimately their prerogative. In the search for richness, though, we don’t have to go the lengths of arctic explorers or lonely artists. We don’t have to make changes that are disruptive and obvious to outside observers — not unless there’s wisdom behind our decisions.

In short, we can still have an “interesting life” without doing extraordinary things that would make for a great screenplay. 

It might just take a little more imagination, is all.

Can We Find Richness in the Everyday?

Assuming we’re not allergic to pruning trees and canning fruits like Anaïs Nin but we still want some richness in our lives, how do we go about it?

In his paper, Oishi mentions escape rooms as an example of how someone can experience psychological richness in an everyday setting. Individuals who are new to escape rooms, for example, tend to experience more psychological richness regardless of whether they successfully “escaped” or not. People who are used to escape rooms, on the other hand, often enjoy them more because they’re skilled at solving them – but they lack the same richness of experience.

The balance between challenge and enjoyment is not always easy to strike, but it can be done, often resulting in a state known as flow. Flow – the act of being supremely present and focused on something worthwhile – is something any of us can attain whether we’re practicing dental surgery, our drawing skills, making homemade pasta, or even reading a book that offers profound insight we’re coming across for the first time.

Is flow the same thing as richness of experience? This might be debatable since the trademark of a psychologically rich life is having “interesting” and “unique” experiences. An intense but productive piano lesson doesn’t make for quite as good fodder as going backpacking through Bolivia.

On the other hand, if the thing you’re doing truly excites and satisfies you, your excitement is evident to others who hear you describe it. For this reason, the piano student may turn out to be a more interesting storyteller (and person) than the backpacker.

Oishi even suggests that our experiences don’t even have to be first-hand in order to generate psychological richness: we can get caught up in the vicarious thrill of triumph, danger, heartbreak, and redemption by reading a rewarding novel.

To help curious minds better understand whether their own lives are sufficiently rich in experience, Oishi created a questionnaire to better help answer the question. Readers can measure their own lives by answering either “yes” or “no” to statements such as the following:

1. “I seek out adventures, either first-hand or vicariously.”
2. “My life has been full of unique, unusual experiences.”
3. “Many of my best memories in life come from unexpected events.”

Note that none of these require that you live in another country (although that can help), become an adrenaline junkie, or overhaul your career. It’s also possible that looking at this list you may realize, “Perhaps a psychologically rich life is not what I’m after.” And that’s perfectly alright.

But if the vision of a psychologically rich life resonates with you, remember that you can’t gain it through novelty and adventure alone. We must accrue wisdom from our experiences and broaden our perspectives (sometimes in ways that are uncomfortable at first) if we want to experience true richness.

And only then we will be able to say we’ve lived a truly good life.

***

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1. Nin, A., & Stuhlmann, G. (Ed.). (1969). The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934. Mariner Books Classics. ISBN: 9780156260251 
2. Oishi, S., & Westgate, E. C. (2021, August 12). A Psychologically Rich Life: Beyond Happiness and Meaning. Psychological Review. Advance online publication. http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/rev0000317
3. Note that these definitions of “hedonic”, “eudaimonic”, “happy,” and “meaningful” are context-specific and are not how I necessarily define them in my own writings
4. Heath, C., & Heath, D. (2017). The Power of Moments: Why Certain Experiences Have Extraordinary Impact. Simon & Schuster.