Someone, who is almost as smart as I am, asked me to define success recently. It started me pondering yet another one of those "meaning of life" questions. You know the questions... the ones that have you contemplating whether your entire existence has been an exercise in futility, or whether the road not taken was the one that you actually should have been on. Meaning of life questions inevitably take you all the way down to your core beliefs, they force you to examine what you really truly believe, and whether you are in fact living up to those things you say you believe in. Because the truth is, if you're not actually acting on said beliefs, - then how strongly do you really believe?
And thus began my exploration into the meaning of success : what does it mean to me, and am I living up to said beliefs. As always, I reached for my handy dandy dictionary for that first attempt at defining something so complex it eludes actual definition. While it would have been nice to see my picture next to the word success - alas the answers were not going to be so easy...
Merriam-Webster defines success as: A degree or measure of succeeding; A favorable or desired outcome ; Also attainment of wealth, favor or eminence.
The synonyms are: blockbuster, megahit, smash, hit, supernova and winner.
Isn't there some rule against defining a word with a variation of itself? How is that an answer? And look at those synonyms! Is it any wonder many of us come to the conclusion that money is the true measure of success? Or that somehow being a success means being famous?
I mean the Kardashians are famous but is that really success? Is all the money they have truly success? Certainly an argument could be made that they are successful - they have all the trappings of wealth: they have stuff, they have money, they have freedom from worrying whether the electricity is going to get turned off. They can travel - which is something I admit makes me a bit jealous. But if that wealth is made off the back of your daughter's sex tape, is that really worth it? For me - the answer is a resounding no. No offense to Mama Kardashian, but I'm fairly certain I couldn't look myself in the mirror. Beyond the mere fact that they "made their G in a sleezy way" (man I still miss Tupac) I believe in the concept of Karma. Selling my child's dignity so my family could live in the lap of luxury comes with a bill that I wouldn't want to face.
So is wealth always bad? Of course not. There are plenty of wealthy people who have made fortunes ethically - I hope to be one of those myself.
But if I don't make that mad money - am I a failure? Does that invalidate my life's work? Van Gogh never saw a penny from his work, yet he is arguably one of the greatest painters of his era. (Not that I'm comparing myself to Van Gogh. I've so far managed to pay my bills and hang on to my ears)
At this point, I'd like to say that money does not equal success... but I know that some would heartily disagree. And I'm not sure that I believe it either. Money can be a great way to measure our success or how much others value our efforts. Money is an awesome reward for a job well done. You'll get no argument from me. But is it the only reward?
Aren't there things that are at least as important as money? If not more? What about happiness? or pride? or just pure love? How about just to make the world a better place?
Are the efforts of people like Mother Teresa, Gandi, or Martin Luther King without value? If people gave up because they couldn't monetize their passion, the world would have missed out on the works of Johanness Vermeer, Edgar Allen Poe, Oscar Wilde, Franz Shubert, and Matthew Brady - just to name a few.
So it seems clear that money isn't the sole measure of success. Or at least it's not to me.
And there it seems, is the crux of the issue. Success, no matter how succinctly the dictionary manages to define it, is not a black or white easy answer. What is success to me, is not to another.
The garbage man who does his job, lives a happy life with a family who loves him is no less successful than the billionaire who travels the world and drives a Maserati. Oh I'm sure to some, on the surface, one is more successful than another - but if the garbage man is happy, if he's accomplishing the things he's set out to in his life - who are we to dispute his happiness? And the flip side of course, is that there is no guarantee that the billionaire is truly happy either. Money doesn't buy happiness or love - it simply makes misery more comfortable and easier to numb.
We all have to decide for ourselves what true success is and go after it. In the end, that's what really matters. Did we truly pursue those goals we set? (Did we even have any goals?) Did we give 100%? Did we use the talents we came here with to make the world (or at least our small piece of it) better? Are we going to leave this planet filled with regret at the things we didn't do? Or are we going to arrive at the end of this journey with a bucket list that's tattered, shredded and covered with check marks?
As the bell begins to toll on my daughter's childhood, I find myself at that place all parents eventually do - reinventing a life where she is no longer my primary purpose for existence. So often as parents, we make the choices that are in the best interest of our child - often at the cost of our own desires or needs. A couple of decades spent doing that, can leave you unsure of who you are outside the lens of parenthood. So now I search to redefine myself, my goals, my desires and ultimately my definition of success.
I find that my need to be creative is beginning to trump all else. I'm still not entirely sure what that will look like, I am only certain there are worlds inside of me yet to be expressed - begging to have a voice. It's time. Perhaps it will be acting, art, writing or maybe all three.
Traveling is another priority on that bucket list. For a long time, I've rebelled against a childhood of moving by staying planted in one spot. It's finally come to me, that in staying planted, I have scarred myself in ways that childhood never did. Now I want to move back out of the comfort zone, wake up in different places, meeting different people, and just be okay with wherever the tide takes me.
I've never felt a burning desire to get married and live the standard white picket fence existence. And no, it's still not happening (Sorry Dad!) But lately I've rediscovered the desire to be brave and open with my heart. To love recklessly, with abandon, giving no thought or care to the messy endings that often follow. I want to trust unquestioningly, without once doubting someone's motives, to enjoy the beginnings without worrying about the endings.
So on the day when I shuffle off this mortal coil, if I have my amazing daughter by my side, a beat up suitcase, a portfolio of work I'm proud of, a box of love letters, maybe a lover (or two or three!) then I'll consider my life a success. Oh and if I've met Pitbull. Definitely have to do that one.
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