Original Thread
People always say that an achievement reached after years of relentless labour, hard work, immense effort, and years not wasted but invested is the sweetest one.
The one that gives you the feeling of: “I made it.”
But doesn't it also, at least partly, give you the feeling of being a beggar?
When success comes early, it almost feels as if you were chosen. First by talent. Then by destiny. Then, if you believe in it, by God.
But when you keep chasing the same dream year after year after year after year, doesn't it sometimes feel as if God simply gets tired of hearing the same prayer, and as if He finally throws you what you have been asking for... no, begging for?
The success leaves the two victories emotionally different: one feels like being unanimously chosen, the other like... like... being eventually allowed.
We..., at least most of us, overvalue and over-prioritize success achieved through inborn, innate gift. It looks beautiful. It just simply does. On the other side of the border, however, there is a boy or girl, just someone, no matter the gender, who gets whatever they get in life through the power of sheer will, unshakeable determination, and long-endured persistence. Their journey, though it asks for admiration, manifests itself in a different hue of that reaction.
There is a possibility for a perfect balance between the two. Nonetheless, once someone becomes mainly known for the majesty of their talent and the magnitude of their manifesting ability, no amount of visible display of their hard-earned labour catches a ‘penny of notice.’ The same treatment is what our second group receives as well: the more widely and broadly they become known for their power of putting in all the necessary hard work and effortful endeavours, the possibility of them being even the slightest bit talented gets instantly dismissed, almost as if it were an uncalled-for joke and an irony of it all.
Some of you might refute my statement, or rather my exaggeration of things, by choosing to call the case ‘begging’ and ‘being a beggar,’ but, please, don’t hasten. I can explain myself, or rather, I’m here to shine a light on the explanations that have not yet been elaborated.
I think of success similarly to how cakes usually get sculpted. Whether any other pastry chef agrees with me here or refutes my take, the architecture of this delicious dessert is mostly created from three main ingredients, namely the sponge, the filling, and the ornaments. The sponge is what provides the structure and height; the filling is what prevents the layers from exuding a texture that is too dry for the delicacy-taster’s taste receptors; the ornaments are what set the theme and create the first impression before the process of degustation ever begins.
In the given scenario, the pattern of associations I’ve so far constructed resembles a structure close to this: the sponge is one’s hard work, the filling is one’s talent, the ornaments are one’s luck.
To achieve a certain level of grandiose success, one ought to ensure they have all three cards, in no particular order.
That’s right. You heard it right. I dared to claim that there is no necessity for an order.
Although the process of amalgamation and stratification of cakes must adhere to a strict structural and logical sequence, where the sponge comes first, the filling second, and the ornaments last, for the case of assembling the layers of success, I deign to claim that no order is needed.
’Cause if a mandatory order were indeed commanded by life, the way of paving one’s successful path could be recognised and easily predicted. And perhaps, most importantly, it could be fair. Hence, drawing from the earlier-made match association, to secure a spot on the list of owners of successful life trajectories, all one would need to do would be to first work hard, second make sure their innate and most prominent talent is aligned with the path of that hard-earned labour, and at last wait for that diluted mix to cross its path with the luck that is still yet to knock at their long-unlocked door.
Yet, as we all know, as we all have witnessed too many instances of, that’s not the case. Some are just so extremely talented that when they put in their hard work, the way they and their craft advance in life moves at a geometric progression, in which numbers get multiplied by degrees, unlike how it goes for a person striving in a field to which they possess no natural inclination, thus beholding the development of their path and journey in the simplest arithmetic progression, where the way they proceed forward goes two plus two plus two rather than two multiplied by two multiplied by two.
Also, there are people who are born just lucky. I do not intend to rush into being stereotypical and judgemental and claim that those lucky people are the ones who are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Though, no doubt, partially, there is some undeniable truth to that too.
“To be at the right place, at the right time,” that’s the definition of being lucky for me.
One person might figure out they have this innate, insane talent, regardless of whether they found it themselves or someone, in an encouraging tone, hinted at it. Then, they may choose to work hard to make their talent their priority, and by doing so, day after day of hard labour, month after month of fruitless endeavour, year after year of unwavering persistence, finally they might ‘get lucky.’
In another scenario, it might be the case that a person would have no one close by their side who could have encouraged them to pursue their talents, to hone their God-given craft. Thus, they would grow thinking of God as someone penurious who felt stingy about sharing something with them too. Nevertheless, that wouldn’t cease them from shying away from industriousness. Eventually, they would unlock the possibility of having a real inclination toward the thing to which they dedicated perhaps almost half of their life, which might happen either before they ‘become lucky’ or as an aftermath.
And there are those whose path to success gets first paved by the component called ‘luck.’ There are the ones who are born either with opportunities that most can’t get access to or with the fortune that many are incapable of reaching, and sometimes, if not mainly and famously, they possess both. And then they get exposure to many clubs and chances from a young age, which leads them to the discovery of their truest talent. At last, alas, via upright and untiring effort, they make their breakthrough success a permanent and long-lasting legacy.
You are indeed lucky if the dice of your life point toward the third scenario. The ones whose cards end up falling into the provided first two cases are at a comparatively disadvantageous stage. Mainly... because of the timing factor.
One thing about having the factor of ‘luck’ operate as first aid in life is that it saves time, for some years, for others even decades, and there are a few for whom it rescues a lifetime of relentless yet fruitless odyssey.
The pursuit of things, mainly a dream that is extremely ambitious or a goal that is anything but pragmatic, might lead its chaser astray to an extent where the chase ceases to be a wonder and becomes more of a burden one won’t be able to relinquish, all in the name and fear of sunk cost.
And for the one who was not ‘born lucky,’ the scale and scope of sunk cost is vast and something that might put the chaser in a position in some degrees worse than where they initially started.
In due course, the more and more the things a person loses accumulate, the farther and farther the life aspects a person sacrifices nurture no reciprocative nourishment in return, the more sapped, the more bitter, the more hopeless, even in its worst scenario, the person might get. Once that occurs, the ‘luck’ that may finally decide to show its face at one’s porch, then knock at their door and ring their bells, might end up being something no longer desired, no longer craved, or worse; it might become something loathed, something heart-wrenching, something headache-inducing. Something meaningless, even.
Let’s say a person offers you a cookie. You jubilantly extend your hand to get hold of it, when the one who offered it to begin with withdraws the offered treat. That will momentarily shake you, puzzle you perhaps. However, within a moment, you will see that outstretched hand before you once again. You will be slightly dubious, no doubt. Yet... because you were deceived just once, you might find the first deception to be a joke, interpret it as a game of fun, thus deciding to reach for the snack once again, only for it to be taken away from you one more time. To accept the invitation the third time will be harder. You might even feel stupid for considering accepting it the third time.
One thing we are forgetting here is that no human is a machine built to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep battling the challenges.
Yet, somehow, the journey to success is not often coloured in such metaphors, as if here the reverse were true: one must keep answering the gesture of calling, however whispery the sound might be, if indeed earnest about the success they are aiming at.
Precisely because we are not machines, sometimes we beg, and sometimes we pray.
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