My mother and I recently had a conversation about success. It began with her telling me of a wall they are devoting to successful graduates in her school. She told me of a former student who now works for the FBI, another who went on to master not only law school, but music and scads of other professions, and yet another who works to find cures for disease. For each of them, she had awe and respect, and the tenderness in her voice was akin to that which she reveals only when she speaks of her most prized pupils. It brought about an interesting question- what is success? She mentioned that many nominations for the wall had come in, parents raving about their daughter who became a doctor, a family who proudly proclaimed their son had been a janitor for decades in the high school...My mother was solid in her belief that while they were admirable jobs, they were not the epitome of success, and therefore could not rival for those positions on the wall.
She reasoned that while all parents are proud of their offspring for their various endeavors, the true meaning of success was to do something grand, something life changing. World changing, if you will.
I disagreed, and still do.
Success is made of numerous factors. Happiness is key, for no matter how hard one works, or how well they are compensated monetarily, without joy in what they do, it means nothing. A man could climb Everest, but if he does it only for the prestige, it is a hollow victory. He must see the world for all of its beauty to have made the climb worthwhile.
Honor is necessary for success. Knowing that what you have achieved, you have done so with your morals and ethics intact, and never had to tread on another to get there. You must be able to have dignity, and never have secrets aching behind your breastbone that could ruin you.
Love, as trite as it may be, is essential. Regardless of how hard you work, at the end of the day it is the people who surround you whose respect and adoration will mean the most. To celebrate a victory alone is like a tree falling in the forest when no one is around to hear it.
Passion....the pulsating writhing grip of fiery beliefs that propels you toward greater heights. This idea is lost on those who have chosen a job or career that does not fulfill them, but merely pads their bank accounts. They forget in the day to day that each moment is sacred, they yearn for their vacation.
In the disagreement we had, my mother did not concede that I earned a spot on the wall of fame, but informed me that my sister and I had done much to make her proud. This is the pride I have sought out my entire life, ever afraid of disappointing, or making the wrong decisions. From early on in my life, I was convinced I would be a doctor- bringing new life into the world, my mother insisted my calling was in writing. I was a moderately good student, I got into the only college to which I applied, and could have made my dreams come true. Only somewhere in that time, the dream changed. My idea of success was altered. I fell in love- with a boy, with impetuosity, with children, and long lazy days of independence. I realized that all I wanted from my life was not fame, fortune or gainful employment, but to chew on bliss. To raise my kids to be happy and strong, and loving and loved. In the back of my mind, I questioned how my family saw this change in me. If they felt cheated out of boasting rights, or disappointed that I had fallen so far from a path I had been so righteous about for so long.
But hearing my mother tell me she was proud, gave me an inner peace. While I may never sit on a wall of fame somewhere, my children might. They might cure cancer, or lead the free world, or write the great american novel. On the other hand, they might spend their days playing this little piggy and making dragonfly pretzels- and the only thing I ask is that they do it because it brings a smile to their face, and a song to their heart. And then, and only then, I will consider them a success.
She reasoned that while all parents are proud of their offspring for their various endeavors, the true meaning of success was to do something grand, something life changing. World changing, if you will.
I disagreed, and still do.
Success is made of numerous factors. Happiness is key, for no matter how hard one works, or how well they are compensated monetarily, without joy in what they do, it means nothing. A man could climb Everest, but if he does it only for the prestige, it is a hollow victory. He must see the world for all of its beauty to have made the climb worthwhile.
Honor is necessary for success. Knowing that what you have achieved, you have done so with your morals and ethics intact, and never had to tread on another to get there. You must be able to have dignity, and never have secrets aching behind your breastbone that could ruin you.
Love, as trite as it may be, is essential. Regardless of how hard you work, at the end of the day it is the people who surround you whose respect and adoration will mean the most. To celebrate a victory alone is like a tree falling in the forest when no one is around to hear it.
Passion....the pulsating writhing grip of fiery beliefs that propels you toward greater heights. This idea is lost on those who have chosen a job or career that does not fulfill them, but merely pads their bank accounts. They forget in the day to day that each moment is sacred, they yearn for their vacation.
In the disagreement we had, my mother did not concede that I earned a spot on the wall of fame, but informed me that my sister and I had done much to make her proud. This is the pride I have sought out my entire life, ever afraid of disappointing, or making the wrong decisions. From early on in my life, I was convinced I would be a doctor- bringing new life into the world, my mother insisted my calling was in writing. I was a moderately good student, I got into the only college to which I applied, and could have made my dreams come true. Only somewhere in that time, the dream changed. My idea of success was altered. I fell in love- with a boy, with impetuosity, with children, and long lazy days of independence. I realized that all I wanted from my life was not fame, fortune or gainful employment, but to chew on bliss. To raise my kids to be happy and strong, and loving and loved. In the back of my mind, I questioned how my family saw this change in me. If they felt cheated out of boasting rights, or disappointed that I had fallen so far from a path I had been so righteous about for so long.
But hearing my mother tell me she was proud, gave me an inner peace. While I may never sit on a wall of fame somewhere, my children might. They might cure cancer, or lead the free world, or write the great american novel. On the other hand, they might spend their days playing this little piggy and making dragonfly pretzels- and the only thing I ask is that they do it because it brings a smile to their face, and a song to their heart. And then, and only then, I will consider them a success.
Comments
Post a Comment