An Ode to iTunes

One of the biggest rumors going around the tech blogosphere lately is that Apple will finally, after years of neglect, put iTunes out of its misery. And yesterday, the company officially confirmed this to be true. Some are mourning the loss of what was once a great piece of software, while others are rejoicing at its death like the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz. To be honest, it’s a long time coming. But that doesn’t make me any less sad about it.

You’d be forgiven if you had to ask, “What the heck is iTunes, and why are all the nerds riled up about it?” It hasn’t been a part of popular culture for a while. But back in its heyday, iTunes was the place to purchase music online.

When you plugged in your iPod (remember those?) to your computer, iTunes would instantly appear, dutifully ready to help you sync your songs, art, and playlists with ease. Or if you wanted to hear the latest banger, you could head over to the iTunes Store, purchase it for a buck, and start listening within seconds. The whole process was fast, easy, and convenient, and it made music accessible to everyone in a new way.

To say that iTunes changed the music industry would be an understatement. When music started going digital with the advent of MP3 players, people were getting music one of two ways: either they went to the store, bought an entire CD, and ripped it to their computer… or they stole it from any number of pirating websites.

CDs were expensive and annoying. Why pay so much money and go through the trouble of ripping a disc just for a couple of songs you like? Not to mention having to manually enter song names and track down album art to keep everything organized and pretty. Buying physical music was simply more trouble than it was worth.

So a significant number of people were turning to piracy, not because they didn’t want to support artists, but because the physical music system wasn’t compatible with new digital methods of listening. Consumers weren’t happy with the options available, and music makers weren’t happy that their stuff was being passed around illegally. Seeing this dilemma, Apple decided to capitalize on it. And thus, iTunes was born.

Having the ability to buy individual songs—rather than entire albums—and easily string those songs into playlists that could be taken anywhere was revolutionary. In the world of streaming, we‘ve become accustomed to having our music available to us anytime, anywhere. But back in the early days of iTunes, this concept was groundbreaking, and it changed everything.

The music industry was never the same again. The structure of songs and albums shifted drastically. The distance between artists and their fans nearly vanished, making space for a much deeper connection than ever possible before. And thanks to the iPod and iTunes, Apple became a household name at a time when average consumers had no idea what a Mac even was.

That’s an incredible story, and it’s one that gets told a lot in the tech world. But if that was all there was to it, no one would really care that iTunes is going away in 2019. Music streaming has taken over, and people use their phones as their primary computers now. It’s time move on, right?

The problem with that—and the reason so many techies like myself have such strong feelings about this development—is that iTunes has had a profound impact on so many people’s lives. It wasn’t just about selling songs and iPods. To me at least, iTunes was so much more than that.

Everyone who lives in the Apple ecosystem remembers their first Apple product. The thing that drew them in, showed them what the company could offer, and led them to integrate those products more and more into their lives. The thing that showed them that spark of magic and wonder Apple integrates into everything they do. It’s something you never forget.

For me, that first Apple product wasn’t a computer. It wasn’t a phone or even an iPod. My very first Apple product, the thing that got me interested in this company that‘s such a big part of my life now, was none other than iTunes.

I was a kid with no relationship whatsoever with music. The only songs I knew were from church and the country radio station my mom played in her van. I had no taste and, honestly, no interest in music. But then I somehow got my hands on an iTunes gift card (one of the most popular gifts to give to kids at that time), and all of that changed.

Suddenly, I could look up any song I wanted, and if I liked it, it could instantly be mine. I was amazed! I started looking up the few songs I knew from MySpace and clicking the related links underneath to find more like them. I fell in love with music. Over time, I carefully curated a library of my favorite music, and I listened to it all the time, right there at the desk in my family’s kitchen.

Music became my identity as a teenager. I prided myself on keeping up with unknown artists and telling other people about them. I burned countless CDs and gave them to my friends as gifts. (I actually burned so many CDs that iTunes issued me a piracy warning.) When life got hard or confusing or even just exciting, I always had a playlist handy to help me work through whatever I was feeling. It’s no exaggeration to say that my music library was my most prized possession at the time.

More Apple products followed. One year, I got an iPod Shuffle for Christmas. The next year, it was the first-generation iPod Touch. Then came the iPhone 3G. For my high school graduation, I asked my parents for a MacBook Pro. After that came a string of so many iPads. Now, I’m known as an Apple fanboy by my friends and family. And it all started with a little program called iTunes.

My relationship with music changed as I got older, as these things do. I found other passions. Every once in a while, something will come along that re-sparks my interest in music. A few years ago, it was Apple Music. More recently, I invested in a couple of HomePods and started listening more. But no matter where my relationship with music goes now, it will always be tied in my mind to those hours I spent as a bright-eyed kid browsing iTunes and forging my music identity.

Like many, though, I have had my heart broken by changes made to iTunes. I’ve watched the app morph over the years into something nearly unrecognizable. The iTunes Store eventually added movies, TV shows, and podcasts all within the same program. When the iPhone came out, it became the place to sync over not only your music, but also your apps, photos, contacts, documents, and everything else you might want on your phone. Apple decided a few years ago to get into the streaming music game, so it tacked Apple Music onto iTunes in a way so crude that it’s nearly unusable.

No, iTunes is not what it once was. It’s become cluttered to a point that many who used to be its biggest fans now hate what it has become. There have been cries within the tech community for iTunes to be broken up ever since Apple took a more segmented approach on iOS, releasing separate apps for music, podcasts, movies/TV shows, and app downloads. The iTunes behemoth just doesn’t make sense anymore. The tech world mostly agrees that it has to go so that it can be replaced by a series of smaller, more focused apps, which is exactly what Apple is planning to do.

But it will be missed. Despite its flaws, iTunes was incredible when it came to discovering, curating, and listening to music. Back before streaming took over, music libraries mattered, and no other app held a candle to iTunes when it came to managing huge collections. And for that, iTunes deserves to be remembered fondly.

I admit that I was sad yesterday when I heard the news that Apple will be officially sunsetting iTunes in this year’s big Mac update. I’m sure that the new Music app will be great and serve us very well for years to come, but I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the original.

iTunes changed the music industry, and in that way, it changed the world. But more than that, it had a huge impact on me during a vulnerable, formative time of my life. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.

So here’s to you, iTunes. You served us well. Now may you rest in peace with the CDs you replaced all those years ago.

Privilege

I have lived a relatively comfortable life. Growing up, my parents provided a great deal of stability for me. I never had to wonder where my next meal was going to come from. I didn’t have to work because I wasn’t responsible for much other than my schoolwork and staying out of trouble. When I graduated high school, I went to college without paying a dime out of my own pocket, and then I did the same with graduate school. My education and work opportunities prepared me to transition smoothly into the work force where I am currently earning a decent living that allows me to own a home and build equity in it while also investing money for retirement.

In short, I am privileged. And I think it’s time to be completely honest about it.

This is a topic that I’ve been pondering for a very long time. It might have been more appropriate to call this article “Privilege (Part One)” because I’m positive that this isn’t the last I’ll have to say on it. The truth is that I feel completely inadequate to speak into an issue so important and nuanced, but the more I reflect on this subject, the more I feel compelled to speak out on it.

As I’ve said before, it is so incredibly easy for each of us to assume that our lives are the norm, that everyone else experiences the world the same way that we do. I once thought that myself. But that simply isn’t true, and the first step to understanding the concept of privilege is recognizing the ways that one’s experience differs from those of others.

The older I get, the more I realize how fortunate I am to have grown up in the circumstances I did. Because at every turn, I was experiencing privilege. I was given the circumstances, resources, and opportunities to grow, thrive, and become all that I could be. Meanwhile, many around me were not being afforded those same privileges, and I couldn’t even see it.

Below is a list of just some of the privileges I’ve enjoyed in my young life:

• My family didn’t move a lot growing up, which means my education and social life were mostly uninterrupted throughout my childhood.

• I always had access to plentiful, healthy food, which allowed my physical and mental development to proceed to the fullest extent. It also meant that I could focus in school and earn good grades.

• My neighborhood growing up was safe, which meant that I could play outside and maintain an active lifestyle.

• I didn’t have to work in high school, so I had plenty of time to study, complete homework, and develop meaningful, lifelong friendships.

• My parents encouraged me in my studies, even helping me when I struggled. My whole life, they told me that I could achieve anything I set my mind to, including getting into college. And I believed them.

• I have a knack for learning and test-taking. This is in no way an indication of merit or hard work on my part. I’m just good at it.

• My school offered extra-curricular activities, which allowed me to explore my talents and build life skills. They looked great on college applications, too.

• I had a plethora of adults in my life—teachers, church members, and family friends—who mentored me, encouraged me, and gave me opportunities to learn and grow.

• Money was rarely (though not never) an issue in my family. My parents taught me to treat money like a tool and showed me through their examples how to use it and relate to it well. Budgeting, saving, debt avoidance, and generosity were principles instilled in me from a young age. 

That may seem like an unnecessarily long list, but I assure you that I could go on. You may be reading this list and thinking, “What’s the big deal? I had all of that growing up, too. Everyone does.” If so, I’ll tell you this: You are, like me, extremely privileged. Be thankful.

Because though these may seem like basic things that every person should have access to, the truth is that many, many do not. And these privileges—which only certain people are given—set us up for success later in life.

Am I saying that people who don’t have these privileges can’t be successful? Of course not. Am I saying that anyone who grows up privileged is definitely going to get ahead? No, I’m not. What I am saying is that the privileges I’ve been afforded have made it much easier for me to succeed in life than someone who doesn’t have those same privileges.

It’s like if life were a race, I was given a head start, or better equipment to run with. And it’s not like I deserved it or even asked for it; I just got it. And my whole life, I’ve been relying on that extra boost to help get me where I want to go.

I can’t imagine being where I am without those privileges. Would I have gotten into college if I hadn’t been told my whole life that it was a possibility for me? Or if I had to work to support my family instead of focusing on school? What about if had a disability I was trying to overcome on top of everything else? Sure, there are people who do a lot more with a lot less, but I’m not sure that I’m strong enough to be one of them. For whatever reason, I never had to find out.

By the way, I haven’t even mentioned two other major aspects of privilege that I enjoy: I am a white man. Both my race and my biological sex afford me privileges that I would not otherwise have access to. Though we try to convince ourselves that we as a society no longer judge people by their race or sex, one simple flip through the newspaper or newsfeed proves differently. Our world is still set up to favor white men, and though I wish it weren’t that way, I do still benefit from it.

Coming from a sheltered upbringing, I never realized how unique my experience was until I became an adult and saw the world for myself. I met people of different socioeconomic backgrounds, from different races and ethnic groups, and even from different countries. And the more people I met who were different from myself, the more I understood the depth of privilege I have received.

I’ve met people who have no idea where their next meal is coming from. People who’ve been beaten down until they believe that they are nothing. People who face oppression and bigotry on a daily basis. And people who repeat the broken cycles of family mistakes because they don’t have any way of knowing life can be different for them.

And in meeting these people—many of whom I love dearly—I’ve come to see myself in a new light. There’s absolutely no difference at a fundamental level between myself and them. I’m no better than them, no more deserving than they are. There’s no reason that I should have received the privileges I did while they were forced to face life without them. The only difference between them and me is that by chance, I started off in a different place than they did.

I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t set up the systems that created it. It’s not my fault that things are this way. But I benefit from it every single day, sometimes in ways that actively harm others. Often in ways that go against my basic beliefs and principles. That is my privilege.

We’ve all heard it said that ignorance is bliss. And in the case of privilege, that is certainly true. Whereas before, I was able to live my life believing the world was fair and that everyone else had the same chance at success that I had, now I know the truth. Everything I have is in some way connected to the privileges that were afforded to me earlier in life. Even now, the same privileges are still working in my favor while others suffer without them. This is a hard truth to live with.

Unchecked and unconsidered, privilege is a blessing. But once you recognize it for what it is and look it straight in the face, privilege is ugly. It’s a beast that takes from those who don’t have enough and gives to those who already have more than they could ever need. It silences the oppressed and convinces those who benefit from it that they deserve it. That they’re somehow better than others. That their privilege is their right. And that simply is not true.

No privilege is a right unless it’s guaranteed to everyone. And the sad truth is that there are many people in our world who have little more than nothing. Don’t they deserve the same things everyone else does? Aren’t they just as human as everyone else? What right do we have to feel entitled to things that others can only wish for?

I’ve come to see my privilege as a burden, and I bear it every day. It’s nothing compared to the burdens borne by those who are struggling to survive, but it weighs on me nonetheless. It reminds me constantly of the suffering in the world and forces me to question the comfortable complacency that I so easily fall into. My privilege is a moral quandary that I am constantly turning over in my head and trying fruitlessly to solve.

What am I to do with this privilege? I can hardly give it up, at least not all of it, because I can’t change who I am or where I come from. Nor should I. I’m thankful for the privileges I’ve been given. The problem isn’t necessarily that I’ve been given too much. The problem is that others haven’t been given enough. So while I can’t undo the privilege I’ve been given, I can do my best to use it to lift others up.

I dream of a day when everyone is afforded the privileges I have. There’s more than enough to go around. It’s just going to take more people waking up to their privilege and choosing to use it for the sake of others. If I can take what I’ve been given and use it to make life better for my fellow human beings, then I consider that a worthwhile use of what I’ve been blessed with. I don’t want to waste it.

What does that look like? For me, it’s taken different forms. It’s meant being there for children in my life who don’t always have the positive adult influences they need. It’s meant being patient with people who need time to learn things I was fortunate enough to be taught long ago. It’s meant working with those in need on becoming independent. It’s meant loaning without expecting a payback and giving with as much generosity as I can afford. It’s meant giving people rides, giving people second chances, and simply hearing people out.

Checking my privilege has meant all of that and more, and I do it not because I’m particularly good or because I want to be praised. I do it because I’ve been given a lot, so I believe that I’m expected to give a lot to others.

Jesus taught as much. He said, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, even more will be expected” (Luke 12.48). For me, that expectation includes constantly checking my privilege and making sure that I’m using it to help those who don’t have it. It’s a process that will take me my entire life to master, but I’m trying, and I’m always open to listening to those who can teach me ways of doing it better.

How about you? Do you have privilege that you haven’t recognized yet? Now is the time to do so. No matter where we come from, most of us have been given some kind of privilege that others have not. Once we choose to see it, then we can start the process of learning how to use it to help others who haven’t been so fortunate. I believe that’s the only way we’ll see this world become a better place for everyone.

In my faith tradition, we say that God is in the business of redeeming the world. What that means is that God isn’t going to undo the brokenness of the world. Instead, he’s going to heal it, and he’s working through us to make it happen. I think that this is a part of it.

We can’t undo the injustices and disparities in the world today, but we can pick up the broken pieces and use our influence to turn them into something beautiful for everyone. When we do that, we’re taking part in God’s redeeming work. And I can’t think of any better use for the privileges I’ve been given.

I was given an unfair advantage in life. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. It’s taken me a long time to recognize it, but now that I have, I’m trying to use that privilege to help others, because I believe I can use it to make the world at least a little bit better. And I believe that you can do the same. We each have the opportunity to use our privilege for the greater good if we only choose to. Will you?

Analytics

Not too long ago, Squarespace finally released an iPad-compatible version of their website-building app. Needless to say, I was excited. I try do as much as I can on my iPad, and not being able to do all of my web work on my favorite device irritated me to no end.

The @squarespace app is finally on iPad, and I could not be happier! Literally the last thing keeping me from using my iPad Pro for all personal projects. Thanks, Squarespace team!

— Devon Michael Dundee (@devondundee) April 29, 2019

When I opened the app for the first time, I felt like a kid unwrapping a present. I beamed as I navigated through different sections of the app, browsing editable versions of my webpages, adjusting settings, and previewing the site on different screen sizes. It was thrilling! The thing I had been requesting for so long was finally here, and it was everything I wanted it to be.

Actually, it was a little more than I wanted it to be. In addition to Squarespace’s editing tools, the app also includes a brief overview of the website’s analytics data. One of the first things you see when you open the app is a trio of charts that show how your site has been performing lately. This feature of the app was unexpected, and to be honest, it threw me off a bit.

I’ve always maintained a healthy distance from analytics of any sort when it comes to my creative projects, especially this website. This is my place of expression, a way for me to share my life with others. And it’s always been my fear that if I started down the analytics rabbit hole, I wouldn’t ever reemerge. Instead of focusing on creating the best content possible, I’d become distracted by getting the most page views possible. I don’t ever want to sully this space with that sort of pressure.

So when I saw the charts, my initial response was to look away. But it was too late; I had already seen too much. My curiosity was piqued, so I went back to the analytics page and dug in a little bit. And what I found intrigued me.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the numbers seemed pretty good to me. It’s an honor that anyone would take the time to read what I have to say, much less several people every week. I would much rather gauge this blog’s success on the value it adds to lives of those of you reading, but if sheer numbers are any indication, things look to be going well. Thank you so much for being part of that.

The interesting part, though, was the section that highlighted my most popular content. The home page had the most views, as expected, with the blog and about pages coming in right after it. But the most visited blog post by far was this one from 2017 entitled Questions We Ask After a Tragedy. Not only is it my most popular article of all time; it’s the most popular one on my site month after month, performing better even than new pieces that I post each week.

Finding this out was baffling to me. I had no idea that people were still reading an article I wrote nearly two years ago and shared a couple of times on social media. To be honest, I’ve always been extremely proud of that piece and the entire series that it’s a part of. I consider it some of the best—and most difficult—stuff I’ve ever written. But I never imagined that it would still be having an impact today.

Why would people still be reading that particular piece now? Did it just happen to get caught up in some search engine somewhere? Maybe. Did a bot latch onto it for reasons unknown to any of us? It’s definitely possible. But I like to think that the article is somehow being found by people seeking comfort in the midst of tragedy, and I hope they’re finding it there. If it’s still accomplishing that even for a few, then I consider it one of my greatest successes.

Looking at the analytics, I briefly had the thought, “This article seems to be working! I should write more like it.” But such ideas are futile. Articles like that one can only be written organically and under the right conditions. It has to come from the heart. If I tried to force out a deep theological musing on the state of the world every week, it would come across as insincere, and I’d probably end up repeating myself. That’s not what this is about.

I’m here to share my life, experiences, and thoughts with you in the hopes that you might find value in them. If a particular article strikes a chord with people, that means I’m doing a good job. If some of them don’t, that’s OK, too. Maybe the less popular articles are just for me. Self-expression can be a reward in and of itself.

I always feared that checking the numbers would change my approach to writing, but it actually did just the opposite: It reinforced my commitment to doing this the right way. I love making this site, and I’m so thankful for each and everyone one of you reading it.

Analytics can be helpful, but only up to a point. I might check them from time to time just to make sure I’m not screaming into the void or completely missing out on what’s important to those around me, but I won’t let the numbers rule my process. As long as someone out there is reading these articles and getting something out of them, I’m happy. Thank you for taking a chance on being that someone this week. I hope it was worth it.

A Lot

Life is just so full of ambiguity.

At any given moment, including this one, at least one of the seven billion or so people on this planet is experiencing sheer joy. Elation. They’ll probably look back on this moment as the best in their life. A turning point where everything changed for the better. A positive health report. A promotion at work. A hard-fought breakthrough in a relationship. There is always something amazing happening in the world around us.

However, at the same time—in that exact same moment—someone else out there is facing the end of the world as they know it. Utter tragedy. This is the moment that they’ll spend forever trying to forget. And if they ever have the strength to look back on it, they will only be able to do so somberly. Disappointment. Betrayal. Loss. All of these things are taking place in our world, too.

And these two extremities of life, the high and the low, they coexist at all times. They pop in and out of our individual lives in varying degrees, but they are always present somewhere. In some unexplainable way, our world—our very existence—makes room for both the greatest of human triumph and the heaviest of human suffering.

We each know this to be true. Who among us hasn’t experienced both times of joy and times of grief in the course of our lives? But even as we do, we still struggle to reconcile the good with the bad.

Acknowledging and accepting this ambiguity that is so foundational to human experience is no easy task. And to be honest, I’ve been grappling with it recently.

I am so thankful for my life. God has blessed me in ways that I could never possibly deserve. I am content, I am fulfilled, and I am happy. I have so much to be thankful for, and I see so much good in my life and in the lives of those around me.

But when I look around, I see others, including people I love, who are suffering terribly. Some are grieving loved ones. Some are struggling to find their purpose or even just to survive. And I wonder: How could all of these things possibly be happening at the same time?

How can I be happy when some of my fellow human beings are despondent? Who am I to enjoy the good that others can’t experience right now? Why does there always have to be both?

Sometimes, it almost feels like too much.

In Ecclesiastes, Quohelet expresses his exasperation with life in this way: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity” (1.2, NKJV). I’m not quite to that point, at least not yet. But I have come up with my own way of expressing my discomfort with the ambiguity I see around me. Here’s how I put it:

Life is good, but it’s also a lot.

I like to think that life overall is a good thing. We can each find fulfillment and joy in this life, and we each have opportunities to leave a mark and make the world a better place for others. But in the midst of all that good, there’s a good deal of bad mixed in. And when it all comes together, it’s a lot to handle.

It’s not even that life is overwhelming, though it sometimes can be. But even when it’s not more than we can bear, life is still confusing because of its ambiguous nature. Because it’s messy. Because it’s never just one way or the other. There will always be good and bad in life, and thus, life will always, always be a lot.

As I consider the suffering around me, I think about the times in my life when I’ve experienced pain. I will never fully know the pain of others because I am not them, just as they are not me. And the amount of privilege I’ve been given shields from certain types of suffering that others endure on a daily basis. But regardless, I have known pain in my own way, and when I consider it, I realize something important.

The bad things I’ve experienced in my life do nothing to diminish the joy I feel when life is good. In the same way, the good things don’t stop me from hurting deeply when the bad times come. These two can coexist because they do not infringe on one another. Each leaves the other be, and we need both if we are to experience a full life.

A full life doesn’t shy away from either the good or the bad. We enjoy the highest of highs, but we also endure the lowest of lows. And in accepting both, we learn from them. We grow. We become better because of them, not in spite of them. And through it all, we are able to make the world better for someone else as a result of what we’ve been through.

Because the truth is that no matter where we find ourselves in life, there will always be elements of both good and bad. If we choose to develop the maturity to recognize and become comfortable with both, we’ll be much more well-equipped to handle the things that life throws at us.

I made a commitment long ago that no matter what I was feeling, good or bad, I would always allow myself to feel it fully without suppressing or denying it. When things are good, I am happy. And when they are not, I don’t force myself to pretend to be so.

That is not to say that I don’t regulate my emotions and behaviors to keep myself healthy and appropriate; I do. But I also don’t deny myself the ability to feel what I’m feeling at any given time because in that moment, I need to feel it.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever fully make peace with the ambiguity of life, but I’m trying. It helps to know that no matter how much bad I see in the world or even experience in my own life, there is always good out there, too. Learning to appreciate the good while accepting the bad in my life and being sensitive to the bad in others’ lives is something I’m always working to do. Maybe you’ll find it helpful, too.

Life is good, but it’s also a lot. May we each recognize that, accept it, and live our lives to the fullest. Thanks for reading, friends.

No Spoilers

Last weekend, Avengers: Endgame made history by becoming the first movie to earn $1 billion on its opening weekend. Among others, it also broke the records for highest-earning domestic weekend and for the most ever ticket sales for showings the night before its premiere. (Haven’t you heard that movies actually come out on Thursdays now?) Because it was the culmination of a huge film series that’s garnered the adoration of so many people, the premiere was a really big deal.

And no movie release of that scale could come without some level of controversy. The biggest problem Endgame and its fans had to face? Spoilers.

Even before the film debuted, the cast and directors themselves were reaching out to fans, begging them not to ruin the experience for others by talking about the big plot reveals in public. The hashtag DontRuinTheEndgame trended on and off all week. As critics were allowed to post their reviews, each had to clarify whether or not their review was spoiler-free. And fans went to great lengths, including total social media blackouts, to avoid any and all details about what they were about to see.

You see, nothing can ruin a movie more quickly than being told beforehand how it ends. When we go to see a movie (or read a book or watch a TV show), we usually want to go in without any foreknowledge of what we’re about to experience. A big part of enjoying the story is going through the journey in the way its creators intended. If you already know the big twist, then its impact will be severely diminished. What fun is that?

When it comes to the fictional stories that we enjoy as entertainment, spoilers are treated like a poison. We avoid them at all cost because we don’t them to ruin the experience for us. Maybe we would do well to apply that same logic and level of commitment to our own lives.

Here’s what I mean: I am a planner through and through. No matter what I’m doing, I have to go into it with a course of action in mind. Whether it’s something as simple as cleaning dishes or as important as considering the direction of my life, I have an innate desire to know what’s coming next. And I imagine I’m not the only one.

Left unchecked, this compulsion to plan leads down some unhappy roads: impatience to get to the next step, frustration when life doesn’t go according to plan, resentment about what could have been, and so on. If our lives are grand stories unfolding—and they are—then we’re the ones angrily mashing the fast forward button and trying to see what comes at the end.

The desire for what comes can ruin the journey. Because life isn’t just about whatever we’re looking forward to. It’s about what’s happening right now. If we’re not enjoying the journey now, then there’s really nothing down the road that can satisfy us. We’ll find ourselves constantly looking ahead to the next big thing instead of savoring the path that leads us there.

And isn’t that how spoilers ruin movies? By moving the focus away from the journey and onto the end? If we already know what happens, then what’s the point in going through it all? But really, the conclusion doesn’t mean much at all unless it’s earned. We recognize the importance of the journey when it comes to movies, but if we’re not careful, we can completely miss it in our own lives.

In the trailer for Avengers: Endgame, Tony Stark points out that, “Part of the journey is the end.” And that’s very true. But on the flip side, the end is only part of the journey. And the rest of the journey has value, too. Endgame wouldn’t be such a payoff if we hadn’t started with Iron Man more than ten years ago. The end is worth it because of the journey, not in spite of it.

So it is in our own lives. We don’t need spoilers to enjoy the journey of life. We don’t need to be constantly searching for what comes next. Because if we’re always looking toward the end, we won’t be able to enjoy the middle, which to be honest, is where most of us find ourselves right now. And that isn’t a terrible place to be.

The big payoff will come in its time. But for now, why don’t we just kick back, enjoy the journey, and not try to spoil the ending for ourselves? We know it’ll be worth it, but only if we embrace the journey first.