Podbit · On Purpose with Jay Shetty
Towns was the only family member COVID protocols allowed to enter the hospital to say goodbye to his mother. He fixed her hair, cleaned her nails, and had the conversation they'd never had — telling her about Jordan, a friend he wasn't sure would become more, and asking his mother to guide him from the other side.
Where this was said
At 24:07 · chapter starts 22:42
COVID protocols allowed only one visitor, and the family chose Karl. He arrived in a hazmat suit, fixed his mother's hair, cleaned her nails, washed her face, and talked to her — even though she couldn't respond. [1] — Karl-Anthony Towns "Towns was the only family member COVID protocols allowed to enter the hospital to say goodbye to his mother. He fixed her hair, cleaned her…" 24:07 He felt the energy of the exchange nonetheless. And in those final moments, he finally had the conversation he and his mother had never gotten to: he told her about Jordan, a friend who might be more, and asked his mother to look out for her from wherever she was going. Seven years later, they're getting married. 'Obviously,' Towns says with a quiet smile, 'it was the right one.' Shetty then asks about the decision to end life support. Towns says he tried every other route — he would have taken her in any condition. But when a meaningful recovery was no longer possible, he made the call. He frames it as choosing 'the death of my ego for the best of her.'
Towns was the only family member allowed into the hospital to say goodbye to his mother before she passed, wearing a hazmat suit and fixing her hair and nails.
More freedom doesn't produce more happiness — it produces more anxiety. Kierkegaard identified this 180 years ago: the more options you have, the more you feel the 'dizziness of freedom,' a paralytic unease at having to choose any single one. The freest generation in history is, by his prediction, exactly the most anxious.
Every person lives in constant tension between infinite possible selves and the finite, limited self they actually are. Tipping too far toward infinite possibility produces a loss of identity; too much confinement in the finite produces stagnation. Kierkegaard argued that this tension is never solved — only managed.
Standing outside a cold pool imagining reasons not to jump is the exact experience of pre-commitment anxiety. Once you jump, the shock passes and you wonder why you ever hesitated. The same mechanism governs every significant commitment in life — the dread is always on the outside, the relief on the inside.
Traditional societies had rites of passage that closed off childhood and opened adulthood. Modern society kept the in-between liminal phase but eliminated the ritual that resolved it. The result is 'emerging adulthood' — a decade or more stuck in the transition — engineered by rising education requirements, women entering the workforce, and delayed marriage.
When Mark Manson proposed to his wife, software he didn't know was running — the low-level assessment of sexual market value and other options — suddenly shut down. Commitment doesn't take freedom away. It trades optionality (freedom to do many things) for focus (freedom from distraction). John Dewey called these positive and negative freedom, and the latter is more powerful.
Mark Manson spent years as a location-independent digital nomad — always a new country, a new woman, a new venture. Then the diminishing returns kicked in: countries started feeling the same, dates felt identical, businesses all frustrated him. The cure wasn't more novelty. It was narrowing: one place, one person, one career.
Every meaningful commitment has a dip — an initial peak of excitement, a brutal trough of difficulty, and a second higher peak for those who push through. Institutions once kept people in the dip long enough to reach the other side. With infinite optionality and no institutions, everyone bails at the bottom and restarts the cycle of shallow first peaks.
Stage one — the aesthetic — is the default: chasing sensation, novelty, and keeping every door open. Stage two — the ethical — is learning to choose with eyes wide open, accepting the trade-offs. Stage three — the religious — is when a commitment becomes so total that it no longer feels like a choice. It just feels like who you are.
The ethical stage is rational commitment — you can explain your choices. The religious stage is when your commitment exceeds rational justification. You can't explain why. It just feels like it chose you. Kierkegaard called this the 'virtue of the absurd' — and it's represented not just in faith but in the entrepreneurs, artists, and athletes who can't imagine doing anything else.
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