“If any man stopped and asked himself whether he’s ever held a truly personal desire, he’d find the answer. He’d see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men . . . A stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded.”
Essay/Book: The Fountainhead Author: Ayn Rand —
The US Open.
My parents had asked me if I wanted to come along, and I agreed. We got there; we took pictures next to a giant tennis ball, bought some tennis rackets, and finally headed over to our seats. It was absolutely freezing–and as the match continued, the world around me got darker and darker. An open stadium, I could see the stars in the sky just as clearly as I could feel the cold seeping through my coat. Trying to forget about my discomfort, I gazed up at the stars and listened to the vaguely muffled sounds of grunts and balls hitting the court.
A million things ran through my head.
The persistent cold that I was trying to forget. The beauty of the twinkling lights in the sky. The vast emptiness of the world around me.
And, even as I pulled closer to my mom and dad, an abject feeling of loneliness settled over me, my isolation from the excitement of the crowd making itself apparent as I felt none of the frustration, disappointment, or adrenaline-fueled excitement that the crowd and the players were feeling–a million miles away from my surroundings, insignificant in this moment.
And, it dawned on me, I am. I am insignificant–we all are. Even the tennis players whom we so eagerly watch are only really significant for the few hours of their game–and, is that insignificance necessarily a bad thing? Why should I pursue significance–and essentially, recognition–throughout my life? Why do I feel the need to be recognized? Should I not just want to aid in world progress–whether that be dancing to promote emotional expression, or engineering to promote prosperity and scientific advancement?
I began to understand the futility of ambition revolving solely around world recognition. Why should the entire world know my name? Shouldn’t success be just knowing that I created something, something that helped someone or something somewhere, something that advanced the face of knowledge or innovation, regardless of whether I gained actual ‘credit’ for it?
Having changed my definition of success, I no longer search for significance. My absolute insignificance has never been clearer, clearing the way for me to discover myself in my passions, rather than discovering passions in the hope of gaining relevance. My success is no longer defined by the approval or recognition of anyone but myself, making my successes sweeter and my hard work more gratifying.
This leaves no bar on my dreams, no curb on my goals. I’m an aspiring engineer because I love how math and physics and purpose click together as you design and invent and innovate, how the electricity of passion sparks through my fingertips as I stay up late working on my model rockets and deriving simple harmonic equations. I’m a dancer because I love how the music and movements feel in my muscles and bones, how fiery adrenaline rushes through my veins when I am in the middle of a performance. I’m a hopeful social entrepreneur because I want to give purpose to my innovations; I’m a singer because I like to feel the vibrations of songs collecting in my throat; I’m a programmer because I like to ‘logic’ my way through problems. None of its for money, or for a prize, or for world recognition–because even that significance doesn’t last long. I’m insignificant, and whether or not I remain so–as long as I fulfill my own purpose and achieve my own goals–it makes no difference to me.