If we listen to the world, the world tells us that the definition of success is a lot of money—and, all of the material goods that money can buy. The more money and the more “things” that one has, the more successful they are. But, if we shut out the shrill voices of the world, and listen to the gentle whispers of our heart as they echo off the walls of our soul, we know that success must be much more than that.
It isn’t that money and the things that it can buy are unimportant—on the contrary, they are very important, since we are in this temporal world, and are expected to not only take care of ourselves, but to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves. But, in the silence of the night, when we explore the still reaches of our soul, we sense, we know that there must be much more to life than simply the temporal…the material. For one day, all of these beautiful things that we have shall pass away.
Listen to Emerson, as he describes his definition of success in his famous poem: “Success” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
What is Success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
Emerson perfectly brackets what is, in my opinion, the best definition of success that has ever been written. He beautifully describes not only what success is to laugh often…to win respect and affection to endure betrayal, to appreciate beauty, find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, better another’s life–but, even more important, what it isn’t. His utter silence on money and the material as defining success speaks volumes.
I was reminded of Emerson’s beautiful definition of success, when, many years ago, I was exploring the possibility of jobs in the financial services industry, and spoke with a business acquaintance with whom I worked on a couple of civic committees in Chicago. This gentleman had retired some years earlier as the vice chairman of one of the major financial institutions in town. He was very well known in Chicago business and civic circles.
During our conversation, he began to lament the course that he had taken in his business life. He said that he had obtained all of the things that mark success in Chicago’s business community, a big home in one of Chicago’s wealthiest North Shore suburbs, a luxury car in the driveway, private schools for the kids, country club memberships, European vacations, and the like. But he felt terrible about how he had obtained them.
He told me that he now regretted how he had “sold out”. He told me that, whenever there were people to be fired at the company, whether justly or unjustly, he was the “hatchet man”. He told me that, whenever there was something “slimy” to do at the company, he volunteered for the job. He said that he never stood up for anything, or anybody, other than himself, because that is how he rose up the ladder at this institution; and, he couldn’t give up the” lifestyle” that each career move up the company’s hierarchy gave him. He was addicted to the “toys”.
But now, like Christopher Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus, he regretted what he did in his career–and, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t undo what he had done. I was stunned at this turn in the conversation and said nothing.
A few years ago, I was paging through the obits in the local newspaper (what we Chicago south siders euphemistically call the “Irish sports pagers”) –and, there he was, dead at a fairly early age (late sixties or early seventies, I think).
I wondered if he ever reconciled himself with his own conscious–and with God, before he died.
No one has ever figured out how to hook up a U-Haul to a hearse.
“(Another great task) is to confront the poverty of satisfaction—a lack of purpose and dignity—that
inflicts us all. Too much and too long, we seem to have surrendered community excellence and community values in the mere accumulation of material things”.
–Robert F. Kennedy, as quoted in Make Gentle The Life of This World: The Vision of Robert F. Kennedy, by Maxwell Taylor Kennedy.
Written by Paul A. Dillon
Adjunct Instructor, Sanford School of Public Policy Duke University
