Thoughts On Success

Well, here it is Father's Day. Seems like a good day to reflect on success, since it was a topic my Dad was big on. He's been dead for 20 years, but I can still hear the lectures in my head about being successful. For Dad, being successful meant being the best. Period. There wasn't much room for losing or anything less.

Now while I agree with setting the bar high, there has to be some healthy dose of reality interjected here or all you end up with is frustration. Reality says: only a few are THE best. Only one team wins the Superbowl. Only one ends up with the Gold Medal. Only a few make the Dream Team. So what about the rest of us?

I think the problem lies in the placement of the period. This whole thinking about success came from my reflecting on the Scrabble games I played with Mom yesterday. I couldn't draw letters for anything. I was either playing with all vowels or one point consonents. As a result, she's ahead in the marathon 8 games to 4. It's a first for our game history. Even though I was getting lowsey letter combinations, I kept doing the best I could. I never threw in the towel. At the end of the day, I knew I couldn't have done any better. My score said I was losing, but did that mean it wasn't a success? In Dad's eyes, it probably would have because for him being a success was being the best. Period. I choose to believe that being successful means being and doing the best that you can with what you have. I move the period out a bit.

A while ago, when I was reading The Velveteen Principles, I was thinking about success and shame. When we limit success to being the best, period, we create a huge arena for shame. My mind is filled with images of atheletes sobbing because the didn't win the championship. Those atheletes were kids on a Little League field and multi-million dollar stars. As if it wasn't hard enough to garner a 4.0 in school, now students graduate with more. Gymnists in the last Olympics were competing for 10+ scores because someone felt the need to raise the definition of perfection. Perhaps that's one of the reasons the Gang Lifestyle appeals to some. They can't be good at anything deemed good so they decided to be good at being bad so that they can be good at something. What have we created?

My dad wanted the best for me because he loved me. He didn't want me to settle, become complacent, or give up too soon. I can't and won't fault him for that. I wanted and continue to want that same thing for my children and grandchildren. But "the best" has taken on a little different meaning and focus for me. It's become more grace-full. I'm not the smartest, most talented, or greatest athelete. I've come to the place where I'm comfortable doing the best with what I have and that's what I hope for in others. And that bar is quite high enough.