From childhood, I was convinced that I was special. School came easy for me, and despite never doing much work at home and no more than doodling in class, I still found myself invited to the principal’s office year after year to be acknowledged for my excellence. With an A+ in Math, Physics, Biology, Chemistry and more, it seemed silly to care about a B or a C in the corner of my report card. And anyways, I knew that if I had tried at all, I would have gotten an A+ in that subject too.
Ambition is defined by the Free Dictionary as “An eager or strong desire to achieve something, such as fame and power.” I had a desire to succeed, to have an A+ across my report card, but I was not willing to put in the work. I knew it was the effort that was missing, not the ability or the brains. My ambition for a perfect record gave way before other activities, mainly reading, and out of the failure to achieve success grew a belief in my own innate laziness and inability to work hard.
|Two of the new leghorns|
“Where ambition ends, happiness begins,” said monk, poet and spiritualist Thomas Merton. I think I prefer his quote to the Emperor’s. I would like to find happiness in my ordinary life nearby, to give myself permission not to be ambitious or strive for fame. To be me, no matter how small, as long as that is what my heart tells me to be.