Incite Full

I was reading Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air (an amazing book so far) last night and a short passage really resonated with me. It was from Alone To Everest, by Earl Denman, and reads:

I grew up with an ambition and determination without which I would have been a good deal happier… I was not sure what could be accomplished by means of tenacity and little else, but the target was set high and each rebuff only saw me more determined to see at least one major dream through to its fulfillment.

It’s both good and bad that this quotation gripped me, as I see a lot of myself in it- the raw passion and ambition into which I want to channel my energy; the hope to create something lasting or greater than myself. Unfortunately, I fear my resolve, dulled by the rebuffs and disappointments, might not be strong enough to last.

These last thoughts made me wonder, is it better to have no ambition than only a little ambition? Surely Denman’s ambition was that of a demigod. I imagine his failures and successes were, figuratively, one step back, two steps forward. His each failure meant to him success was inevitable. But what about the rest of us? What about us (myself included) that see failure as worse than moving backwards,  seen as an ending, not as a direction? Those who put their passions aside because they aren’t the easy route, or aren’t a sure thing?

It’s obvious that the sure things aren’t the building blocks of  fame or legends. And that “nothing ventured, nothing gained” or any other parable you want to throw at it, are all well and good (and obvious). But that doesn’t make it easy to leave the comfort zone of routine and expectations. In this sense, no ambition is the ultimate comfort. One doesn’t dream of being anything bigger or better, or leaving the world a better place, so they don’t have the disappointment of not living up to those expectations levied upon themselves.

Left of that idea, are those (the majority) of us that have a little ambition.

Where did that ambition come from? Well, the last generation or two has been raised by parents all preaching the uniqueness and exceptional-ness of their children nearly non-stop. I was a product of this environment, the one in which every team in the league gets a trophy, lest we make some little tykes feel bad. Or the art show with 300 ribbons given out for honorable-honorable mention, and the teachers who say “yeah sort of” when they really should be saying “No, not at all.”  Look, I understand that we need to encourage our youth, and make them confident and have good self images; perhaps the people with no ambition are the ones who did not benefit from bolstered self-confidence thrown every which way. But we also owe it to our children to let them know the truths about the world, to let them know some people have more ability in one area or another, or that mistakes are made and it’s OK, or that, well, sometimes we screw up and it’s not OK.

I grew up with a near perfect model of success. My father did incredible things in the business world, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to match those feats. I understand this now, but for a long time, he would tell me that he expected us to be more successful than he, which was always my goal. Looking back, I shouldn’t have ever used a person I am so close to, and look up to so much as a benchmark for myself. Not only because it’s difficult to achieve that level of success, but the disappointment if and when I fall short is magnified.

I should rewind a bit and say that my father’s (and mine, begrudgingly) indicator of success is financial success. An indicator that will take massive amounts of inflation for me to overcome. I also understand there are other criteria for success that are not financial, but my brain is wired this way, for better or for worse.

I’m aware that only a handful of people in the world will succeed given my criteria for success, and there is a good chance I won’t be one of them. I think I needed to learn that earlier on, not that I couldn’t live a decent, hardworking, and rewarding life, but rather dreaming without the work and fortitude will end up making me wonder where time has gone, and why have we not all done the great things we wanted to do when we were young. The Offspring also wondered this same thing.

I’m not really sure how to overcome these feelings, or what these feelings really are. Inadequacy? Inferiority? Shame? Despair? They all seem a bit too strong for what I’m feeling, especially since I still have time to change.

Disillusionment.

Disillusionment is the feeling! That moment when you realize the world isn’t our oyster, when all the wills become could haves, and the dreams our younger selves had become more distant, both figuratively and literally. Like when you beat your dad for the first time in chess or basketball, and realize he isn’t perfect or invincible, and someone else’s dad could beat him up. When we start living to pay the bills and get work done, instead of pursuing the things that make us happiest, that is disillusionment.

I don’t feel this way all the time, but when I can’t find the words to write, or the pictures to raw, or the song to hum, my mind falls back to this thought, that I’ve been blunted not by failure, but by the thought of failure.

What I do know, however, is this: no one cares if I fail. Sure, if I screw up  huge project at work, that’s not good, but in my personal life- if I don’t take the best pictures ever, or write the great American novel, or cook the tastiest meals, these don’t reflect poorly on me, and anyone worth hanging out with won’t hold it against me either (on the contrary, the ones who tell you are the ones worth keeping around).

And it’s not too late to turn it around. I don’t necessarily need to exceed my dad’s expectations, but rather change my criteria for feeling successful and whole.To meet my own expectations and to look back and feel good about the decisions I’ve made and the time I’ve spent. This I can do.

The quote above is supposed to be inspirational. I’m not sure it inspired me, but it did make me think about a lot of things that have lived in the outskirts of my subconscious. These feelings of disillusionment and failure, however slight, are not healthy for the soul. And if a paradigm shift is needed to overcome them, to be able to breath easy and feel a sense of accomplishment from within, then that’s what I’ll do. That is the dream I will see come to fulfillment.