We go step through painful step, hoping to one day make a stairway to heaven. Not knowing where it leads, not knowing whose heaven it is we're so painstakingly heading toward.
Just climbing, climbing, climbing.
But is a fall, a break to enjoy the view, to get your bearings, so bad?
I used to want to change the world. I wanted to be remembered, I wanted to torture students by going down in history with my difficult name, I wanted to be more than one face in seven billion. I still want to make a difference, but with regard to the rest of it, I'm beginning to wonder...why?
Success is so valued in society today-and since forever, I suppose-that it seems crazy to write about failure not being all that bad. For all our talk about someone only failing when they give up, failure as a stepping stone, failure as a part of life, the message that it's okay to fail never seems to really filter in. That failure is natural, necessary-that there must always be a loser-is all fine in theory, as long as that loser is not you. Which is okay, which makes sense. We survive because we strive to succeed, to do better, eat more, sleep softer. But isn't there a point where enjoying what you have should be more than enough, where you can...not be stigmaitzed by failure?
Can there be joy in being average? I see it like this: there are different levels of the atmosphere, where you push against pressure and gravity and all that is against you-but after that there is space. Free and floaty and content and happy. Now whether you go fifty light years away or five hundred, you are still going to be in space. But we don't seem to see that: we don't enjoy the feeling of space, hard-won in the battle against the atmosphere. It's like at every level you're just striving to be more, in whatever level of the atmosphere you are, whether it's a peon trying to be a general manager or a GM trying to be a CEO. And at each level, you get used to it and you start having problems. From not being able to eat out as much as you want to, or to be able to vacation in Italy, to the WiFi malfunctioning.We just keep moving. Keep fighting to go further and further in, even if nothing changes anymore. Even if, after a while, the energy spent in moving further far outweighs any pleasure received from it.
I know that as a human race, we've come this far, however far that is, because of this urge for more and more, even if you're happy here and now, you must want more. And that's cool, it keeps us alive. But when so many of us have moved past struggling to survive to eating cake everyday, perhaps it's time we stood still for a while, stopped hankering for more, enjoyed our immense privilege and helped the others catch up with us.
~Sam
PS: I do realize that these feelings are not universal, although I have made it sound that way in my writing.
Just climbing, climbing, climbing.
But is a fall, a break to enjoy the view, to get your bearings, so bad?
I used to want to change the world. I wanted to be remembered, I wanted to torture students by going down in history with my difficult name, I wanted to be more than one face in seven billion. I still want to make a difference, but with regard to the rest of it, I'm beginning to wonder...why?
Success is so valued in society today-and since forever, I suppose-that it seems crazy to write about failure not being all that bad. For all our talk about someone only failing when they give up, failure as a stepping stone, failure as a part of life, the message that it's okay to fail never seems to really filter in. That failure is natural, necessary-that there must always be a loser-is all fine in theory, as long as that loser is not you. Which is okay, which makes sense. We survive because we strive to succeed, to do better, eat more, sleep softer. But isn't there a point where enjoying what you have should be more than enough, where you can...not be stigmaitzed by failure?
Can there be joy in being average? I see it like this: there are different levels of the atmosphere, where you push against pressure and gravity and all that is against you-but after that there is space. Free and floaty and content and happy. Now whether you go fifty light years away or five hundred, you are still going to be in space. But we don't seem to see that: we don't enjoy the feeling of space, hard-won in the battle against the atmosphere. It's like at every level you're just striving to be more, in whatever level of the atmosphere you are, whether it's a peon trying to be a general manager or a GM trying to be a CEO. And at each level, you get used to it and you start having problems. From not being able to eat out as much as you want to, or to be able to vacation in Italy, to the WiFi malfunctioning.We just keep moving. Keep fighting to go further and further in, even if nothing changes anymore. Even if, after a while, the energy spent in moving further far outweighs any pleasure received from it.
I know that as a human race, we've come this far, however far that is, because of this urge for more and more, even if you're happy here and now, you must want more. And that's cool, it keeps us alive. But when so many of us have moved past struggling to survive to eating cake everyday, perhaps it's time we stood still for a while, stopped hankering for more, enjoyed our immense privilege and helped the others catch up with us.
~Sam
PS: I do realize that these feelings are not universal, although I have made it sound that way in my writing.
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