If anyone is familiar with the culture of daytime soap operas, you can appreciate “Like sand through an hourglass, these are The Days of Our Lives”. As someone who has watched sand be washed away by the sea for countless hours, I can appreciate the metaphor of sifting and shifting sand as a description of life. While an hourglass and the beach are vastly different arenas, the movement of these small pebbles is quite patterned.
Sand, whether wet or dry, moves in a seemingly haphazard way. However, it takes on different properties regardless. Nevertheless, it shifts, settles, and shifts again. Watching how it fills with sea water and rides the current is so simple, but equally entrancing. I can watch the sea forever and never tire of it. What is interesting, and the point of the featured photo for this blog post, is that you can ruin the beach, write your name in the sand, dig deep holes for water to invade and fill, you can build castles with moats, whatever you like. But the power of water in its simplicity but extreme force, will eventually dull the largest of mountains. This is always the way.
So how do we measure success in this ever shifting landscape around us? Is it money? Name recognition? Power? Longevity?
For me, it’s hard to determine what I view as “success”, simply because I don’t feel like I’ve truly achieved it. In infinite ways, I’ve reached success, but I never feel successful. I feel as though much of what I’ve accomplished is expected. I should not get a trophy for adulting. Kudos are reserves for those who’ve done something remarkable. I’ve merely played the game most of my life, and have done some things.
When I owned a marginally reputable business, it was reputable not because we were flush with cash. We were the only one of our kind in the area of the country where we were located. That’s basically it. I believe we achieved some really cool things, and looking back, I can say we did everything that I set out to do from the very beginning. But we exploded, and quick. With a force I never could have expected. And at the same time my personal life was imploding. Talk about timing.
Since then, I’ve sold virtually everything I own, packed up what was left of my dignity and moved across the country with my roommate and kiddo (plus all the companion animals anyone could ever want). We scraped and carved out a new life in the last few months that doesn’t even vaguely remember the previous one. But was I successful? What the hell was I trying to accomplish? Did I even come close?
I haven’t a clue.
What I can say is that I feel more at peace with myself. I feel more connected to the folks around me in meaningful ways (with the exception of some of my close friends at the old business). I am making more money now, than I ever did in our old city, doing basically the same things I was before I started a business. The financial consequences of a closed business still are looming, but I’m slowly chipping away at them, as time progresses. Does this make me successful? Does it make me a “coulda been”? Or even worse, does it make me a “has been”? These are the questions that roll around in my head while I’m battling insomnia, which thankfully, is not as much of as issue as it was in my previous life.
I think regardless of being successful or not, I am happy with this current incarnation of myself and my life. My kiddo is thriving in ways I never considered. Our roommate is advancing rapidly in her career, where her previous location was stifling her at every turn. I even have a partner who is doing better than he’s ever done in his career. We are all doing amazingly well, in short order. I truly believe that we all had to go through our darkest times, to appreciate the beautiful lives we’ve created recently. I am genuinely grateful that the universe forced me into making drastic, sweeping changes. Life, albeit incredibly difficult, is wonderful.
