Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Failure is scary, so what? (Part 2 of 5)


At that point, I began to realize that the kind of people that fascinated me never felt into the standard success category. The artists I liked were usually struggling or just getting by. The philosophers that I appreciated were far from being famous and wealthy. The movies I loved had no violence, no stars, and no special effects. What was that supposed to mean?

The years passed and, reluctantly, I embraced part of the official philosophy of success, although my conversion always remained uncertain and superficial. It did not take long before the old doubts came back to visit me, every week in the beginning, then every day, and finally, every night.

Whenever I made a pause and took the trouble to look around, the original questions returned to hunt me stronger than ever. Human life seemed to be made more of dishevelled threads, than of steel frames. The people I liked best had managed to strike a balance between their ultimate purpose and their immediate attachments.

To be continued in Part 3

[Text: http://johnvespasian.blogspot.com]

[Image by Ruabag under Creative Commons Attribution License. See the license terms under http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us]

Failure is scary, so what? (Part 2 of 5)


At that point, I began to realize that the kind of people that fascinated me never felt into the standard success category. The artists I liked were usually struggling or just getting by. The philosophers that I appreciated were far from being famous and wealthy. The movies I loved had no violence, no stars, and no special effects. What was that supposed to mean?

The years passed and, reluctantly, I embraced part of the official philosophy of success, although my conversion always remained uncertain and superficial. It did not take long before the old doubts came back to visit me, every week in the beginning, then every day, and finally, every night.

Whenever I made a pause and took the trouble to look around, the original questions returned to hunt me stronger than ever. Human life seemed to be made more of dishevelled threads, than of steel frames. The people I liked best had managed to strike a balance between their ultimate purpose and their immediate attachments.

To be continued in Part 3

[Text: http://johnvespasian.blogspot.com]

[Image by Ruabag under Creative Commons Attribution License. See the license terms under http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us]