Life is hard, then you die.
It’s easy to be cynical about life and despair over simply “being.” Peterson makes this crystal clear with numerous examples of despair making the headlines, such as mass shootings or atrocities of war. These events are shocking not because they’re unrelatable but because they’re profoundly relatable—on levels we can’t or won’t admit. While the specific grievances and actions of those involved may seem foreign, the despair and helplessness behind them often are not.
The core of this rule boils down to a simple, unavoidable fact: life is hard, and pain is inevitable.
Peterson references Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn ⧉, who reframed his immense suffering by asking himself three powerful questions:
This approach represents a monumental shift in mindset. It’s not easy to take personal responsibility amidst suffering, but it’s a starting point. While my challenges and the challenges of those around me aren’t comparable to Solzhenitsyn’s, they’re still real: sickness, death, divorce, broken relationships, financial difficulties, mental health struggles, vocational issues, and more. When I honestly ask myself those three questions in light of these challenges, it stings.
For example, let’s consider health. If I’m not exercising, eating properly, or sleeping enough, why should I be surprised when my health deteriorates? Similarly, if my car breaks down but I’ve neglected preventative maintenance, who’s really at fault? These issues force us to confront the role we play in our own struggles.
Peterson illustrates this with the example of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. While hurricanes are “acts of God,” was there adequate preparation? “The Dutch prepare their dikes for the worst storm in 10,000 years,” Peterson notes. Had New Orleans followed this example, the tragedy might have been averted. They knew and planned to prepare, but after 40 years of building a robust dike system, only 60% was complete. Can we really blame God for what we were too inept, lazy, or corrupt to finish?
Perhaps a more mundane, but relateable, example: how can I be mad at the world, perhaps even taking it out on those around me, for my broken-down car, when I didn’t do the preventative maintenance needed? Even if I didn't know about specifics of maintenance, did I ask anyone?
Confronting even the potential of pain and suffering is hard work. So, what are the options? Springboarding from Peterson and Tolstoy, I can see a few commonly used strategies:
Acknowledge, accept, and prepare. Peterson suggests starting with the chaos in your own life. Chaos might look like disorganized living spaces, unhealthy habits, strained relationships, or unresolved personal issues. If our culture is corrupt or chaotic, it’s made up of corrupt and chaotic individuals. Even if I’m not explicitly corrupt, do I facilitate corruption by failing to speak up or act?
Most of us aren’t in a position to make sweeping societal changes, but we can create smaller, manageable ones. Start by tidying your room or office. Communicate honestly with your loved ones. Help others maintain their integrity. Build your own “10,000-year dike” in one area of your life, so when an “act of God” strikes, it’s a challenge rather than a disaster, filled with regret and resentment.
To tackle today’s chaos, start small and focus on what’s within your control. Begin by organizing your immediate surroundings, like tidying your room or workspace. Reflect on your role in the challenge—ask how your actions contributed and what you can change now. Take one actionable step, such as setting a clear boundary, initiating an honest conversation, or adopting a healthier habit -- then another step, and another. Embrace preparation over blame, aligning your actions with your values to create a solid foundation. These manageable steps build resilience, allowing you to face challenges with clarity and purpose.
Rule 6 is definitely not a lighthearted chapter, but it is a hopeful one. It challenges me to analyze my life honestly, identify areas for improvement, and take small, actionable steps toward change. These steps don’t need to be perfect; the goal is better alignment between my values and actions—a life of integrity.
Peterson’s message is clear: Before criticizing the world, get your own house in perfect order. However, I would like to ask him about the word "perfect". I'm curious if that means I'll never get the chance to criticize the world (i.e. perfection isn't in my wheelhouse!), if it's simply hyperbolic, meaning that I can't put a half-hearted effort and call myself ready to "attack" the world, or if "perfect" means "complete" -- I need to keep working on the "little" things until I can't see any more preparation to do.
Regardless of his intent, whether or not we’ll ever be “finished” improving ourselves, focusing on personal responsibility is far more productive than wallowing in victimhood and resentment. By doing so, we not only improve our own lives but also create a foundation for positive engagement with the world. The tragedy, challenges, and problems I face might be unavoidable, but did I do everything I could do -- or anything all -- to prepare for them? So when bad things happen, and they will, I think it's safe remind the universe, that it's not you, it's me, but we can still get along just fine!