The Tyranny of Either-Or
We take a complex situation and make it binary, which means we miss all the nuance.
I've been thinking about this since I wrote about the geography of missing. About the responses I've received. About how many people read it as a choice between two extremes: stay and be miserable, or leave and abandon everything you've built.
As if those are the only options. As if life operates on switches instead of dimmers.
I remember being twenty-something and having to choose between doing my master's in sports psychology or representing South Africa at gymnastics. The choice felt massive, final, life-defining. This or that. Pick one.
Looking back, there were probably ways to blend it, to find a middle path. But I couldn't see that then. The world presented it as binary, and I accepted that framework without question. I chose gymnastics, chose the sporting life, and walked away from the academic path entirely.
Now, fifteen or so years later, I'm back doing those studies. Because it turns out life doesn't actually end when you choose one thing over another. It just... continues. With new possibilities, different combinations, unexpected returns to roads you thought you'd closed off forever.
The world wants us to choose sides. Love it or leave it. You're either committed or you're not. Success or failure. Happy or sad. Right or wrong.
But most of life exists in the spaces between those absolutes.
I think about the conversations I've had with guides since that piece went live. How many started with "So you're saying I should quit?" or "You think guiding is bad?"
No. That's not what I'm saying at all.
What I'm saying is that we've been conditioned to think in either-or when most of our choices are and-also. We can love what we do and acknowledge what it costs. We can be grateful for opportunities and still choose to change direction. We can respect the path that brought us here and decide it's time for a different path.
The binary thinking is what keeps us stuck. It's what makes every decision feel like life or death, all or nothing, forever or never.
As I approach fifty, the nuance has become more interesting to play in. I'm wanting to evolve out of guiding while still loving the travel side of it. I'm building a coaching business that draws from everything I've learned while stepping back from the thing that taught me. I can honor twenty-three years of experience while choosing a different future.
But this makes people uncomfortable, especially the A-types who want clear answers, something they can quantify. "So are you still a guide or not?" they ask. "Are you retiring or aren't you?"
I watch people agonize over choices that don't actually require choosing sides. Stay in the relationship or leave. Take the job or don't. Move or stay put. As if there aren't a dozen variations of each option, a hundred ways to modify, adapt, evolve.
But binary thinking is seductive because it's simple. It eliminates the uncomfortable work of sitting with complexity. Of holding two seemingly contradictory truths at the same time. Of accepting that most good decisions require us to give up some things to gain others.
I see this in my own training for expeditions. There's the discipline side – the early mornings, the structured nutrition, the relentless preparation. But there's also the human side – the need for flexibility, for spontaneity, for not being so hard on yourself that you lose the joy in what you're doing.
It's what I call aggressive patience. Being intensely focused while staying relaxed. Disciplined but not rigid. It's holding both truths simultaneously instead of swinging between extremes.
The truth is messier. The truth is that you can love someone and realize you can't live with them. You can be good at something and decide it's not right for you anymore. You can be grateful for experiences while acknowledging they came at a cost you're no longer willing to pay.
You can step back from guiding without being ungrateful. You can choose presence over adventure without rejecting the value of exploration. You can prioritize relationships without diminishing the importance of meaningful work.
But our culture doesn't like nuance. It wants heroes and villains, success stories and cautionary tales. It wants clear narratives with obvious morals. It wants to know who's right and who's wrong, who's winning and who's losing.
Life isn't that cooperative.
Most of the important decisions we make aren't between good and bad. They're between good and good, or between different versions of ourselves we could become. They're not about finding the right answer, but about choosing which trade-offs we can live with.
When I decided to step back from scheduled guiding, it wasn't because guiding is wrong or because staying home is right. It was because the version of myself I was becoming wasn't the version I wanted to be. It was a choice about priorities, not a judgment about values.
But watch how quickly people want to make it binary. Either you're dedicated to your craft or you're not. Either you're willing to make sacrifices or you're soft. Either you love wildlife or you prioritize comfort.
You have to stick true to who you are, even when that makes other people uncomfortable. Even when it doesn't fit into neat categories.
The point is that we get to choose what we optimize for. We get to decide what we're willing to trade and what we're not. We get to change our minds when our circumstances or priorities shift.
We get to be complex humans making complex choices in a complex world.
But first we have to stop pretending that complexity is the enemy. We have to stop rushing toward the comfort of either-or and learn to sit with the discomfort of and-also.
This applies to more than career decisions. It applies to relationships, to parenting, to how we think about success and failure, happiness and struggle.
You can love your partner and be frustrated with your relationship. You can be proud of your children and disappointed in their choices. You can enjoy your work and feel burned out. You can be financially successful and emotionally depleted.
These aren't contradictions that need resolving. They're the normal tensions of being human.
The binary thinking tells us we have to pick a side, have a clear position, make a definitive choice. But most of life is about learning to hold multiple truths simultaneously. About accepting that our feelings and circumstances are more complicated than our language can capture.
When someone asks me if they should quit their job, leave their relationship, move to a new city, the honest answer is almost never yes or no. It's "What are you optimizing for? What trade-offs are you willing to make? What version of yourself do you want to become?"
Those aren't binary questions. They're complex, personal, evolving questions that require sitting with uncertainty and embracing nuance.
The tyranny of either-or keeps us trapped in false choices. It makes us think we have to choose between being grateful and being honest, between loving something and leaving it, between honoring our past and choosing our future.
But what if we didn't have to choose? What if we could hold it all?
What if the goal isn't to resolve the complexity but to get comfortable with it?
What if the nuance isn't something to overcome but something to embrace?
Most of life happens in the space between extremes. Most good decisions involve accepting paradox rather than resolving it. Most growth comes from learning to live with the tension instead of rushing to eliminate it.
The world will keep asking you to pick a side. To have a clear position. To make it simple.
Don't. Stay in the complexity. Trust the nuance. Let your choices be as multifaceted as you are.
Because the space between either and or?
That's where the real living happens.