The curse of victory
We need an excuse to celebrate. Anything. Completed another year on the planet? Let’s celebrate your birthday. Completed 21 days without a…
We need an excuse to celebrate. Anything. Completed another year on the planet? Let’s celebrate your birthday. Completed 21 days without a smoke? Let’s celebrate with a cigar. Completed K2 summit without killing yourself? Let’s celebrate with a drink. Completed 4 back-to-back wins in chess? Let’s celebrate with 10 straight losses.
Celebration is everywhere. And why shouldn’t we? We are neck-deep in misery every second day. A few breakout moments of respite to commemorate our accomplishments — regardless of how tiny or insignificant in the grand scheme of things — could very well be the oxygen of our existence. Such personal milestones keep us going; not sure where though.
The trouble shows up when we place too much emphasis on victory rather than on the process itself. Or the journey, like the romantics prefer to call it. Playing beautifully or even fairly doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got to win. For instance, in a 95-minutes football match, what stays in the end is the scoreline and the resulting bragging rights. None care which team managed to bend space and time, producing some exceptional pieces of sports and sportsmanship on display. When the whistle blows, a pat on the back for tenacity is just that. A pat on the back. It doesn’t mean anything.
Now, the question is, doesn’t it?
Doesn’t it mean the world to do things the gorgeous way instead of the practical manner? Shouldn’t we be striving to create an environment where people could enjoy the process so much that they never get to a stage where they hate what they were doing once? Isn’t the future beckoning us to change the structure of our rigid past? Aren’t we too busy titillating ourselves with an impossible rat race where nobody truly wins? If you are good, then there is somebody better out there. If you are great, then there is somebody better out there for you too. That’s how probability works. Your strive for perfection is an illusion at best and a quicksand at worst. Even if you are the greatest, shouldn’t you aim for contentment too?
Somebody once said that nobody remembers the silver medalist. It’s true. But it’s true because of our narrow-mindedness. If we look outside of petty selves, the possibilities are endless. And on a long enough scale, nobody remembers the gold medalist either.