David Foster Wallace’s 2005 Kenyon College commencement address, later published as “This Is Water: Some Thoughts on the Nature of the Daily Work,” is far more than a typical graduation speech. It’s a profound philosophical and practical meditation on the nature of consciousness, the challenges of adult life, and the critical importance of deliberate awareness. Wallace doesn't offer easy answers or platitudes about future success. Instead, he confronts the graduating class, and by extension, all of us, with the inherent difficulty of seeing beyond our own egocentric perspectives. His central argument revolves around the idea that true freedom and a meaningful existence are not found in external circumstances but in the conscious, daily choice to be aware and to choose what we think about.
The address begins with a deceptively simple anecdote about two young fish encountering an older fish who asks, “How’s the water?” The young fish swim on, oblivious. Wallace uses this to illustrate a fundamental truth: the most obvious, important realities are often the ones we are least aware of. For him, this “water” is the mundane, everyday experience of living, an experience we are so immersed in that we rarely stop to consider its nature. This lack of awareness, he argues, is the default setting for human beings, leading us to perceive our own perspectives as the only reality. We become trapped in our own “default setting,” which is self-centeredness, a perspective that sees the world and everyone in it as existing solely for our own convenience or irritation. This is the unconscious state that makes everyday frustrations – like a crowded grocery store or a traffic jam – feel like personal affronts.
Wallace then pivots to the concept of choice. He contends that while we cannot choose the initial thoughts or feelings that arise from our default settings, we can choose what to think about them. This is where the “work” of life, the “daily work” of being a thinking, feeling person, begins. It’s about recognizing that the cashier who is slow or the driver who cuts us off are not necessarily malicious. They, too, are individuals navigating their own complex lives, their own frustrations, and their own suffering. Choosing to think about their potential struggles, rather than simply reacting with anger or impatience, is an act of conscious empathy. It’s about deciding to “feed” a different perspective, one that acknowledges the humanity of others, even when it’s inconvenient or seemingly against our own immediate interests.
This deliberate perspective-shifting, Wallace suggests, is the path to genuine freedom. This isn't the freedom to do whatever we want, but the freedom from the tyranny of our own ego and its automatic judgments. It’s the freedom to see the world with more clarity and compassion, even in the face of the inevitable annoyances and hardships of adult life. He emphasizes that this is a constant, ongoing effort, not a destination. There will be days, many days, when we will fall back into our default settings. The goal isn't perfection, but the persistent, conscious striving to be more aware, more empathetic, and more intentional in our experience of life. The profound implication is that the quality of our lives is not determined by what happens to us, but by how we choose to interpret and respond to it.
Ultimately, Wallace’s address is a call to arms against the insidious nature of unconsciousness. It’s a reminder that the most challenging battles are often fought not against external enemies, but within the confines of our own minds. By recognizing our default setting and actively choosing to think differently, we can move beyond the self-imposed limitations of our egocentricity and cultivate a deeper, more meaningful engagement with the world and the people in it. The act of paying attention, of being aware, and of choosing what to think about is the essence of what it means to be truly alive and free.