My name is ______ and I'm an addict

Every now and then, amidst the diverse internet content I encounter, a blog post comes along that really hits home.  Ironically the one I'm referencing here - though written and disseminated with the full wizardry of the net - speaks out most strongly against the dangers of same.  But on-tap porn and fanatical gaming cabals that turn youngsters into school yard killers don't get a look in here.   

In a series of posts entitled "Don't let the screen strangle your soul" (found here and here) Kevin de Young examines the effects of something we all like to play at and which at first glance looks fairly harmless - Social Media.  Writes de Young:

I was speaking at one of our top seminaries when after the class two men came up to me in private to ask a question. I could tell by the way they were speaking quietly and shifting their eyes that they had something awkward to say. I was sure they were going to talk about pornography. And sure enough, they wanted to talk about their struggles with the internet. But it wasn’t porn they were addicted to. It was social media. They told me they couldn’t stop looking at Facebook; they were spending hours on blogs and mindlessly surfing the web.

The first threat the author calls out is the obvious one - addiction.  In a book entitled "The Shallows", Nicholas Carr describes how he became more and more dependent on the internet for information and stimulation. In time, his brain began to not only drift but to display a sort of hunger which could only be satisfied by the Net.  The more it was fed in this fashion, the hungrier it became. 

The second threat is Acedia a form of mental lethargy which inhibits creativity, belief, faith and hope.  Author John Neuhaus defines it this way:

Acedia is evenings without number obliterated by television, evenings neither of entertainment nor of education but of narcoticized defense against time and duty"

In short, Acedia is a "tastes like chicken" existence.

The third threat is that of shrinking or evaporating boundaries - social media addicts are, quite simply, never alone - never in a position to enjoy the recreational benefits of solitude.  It's almost like the squirreling busyness that accompanies the addiction plays right into our cravings to be heard, understood and relevant.  Yet as we know, the content of that busyness is often nauseatingly transient.

Is Kevin de Young alone in his thinking?  He is not.  Last week HBR contributor Umair Haque explored a similar theme, only he drew a bead on the TED Talks that many of us have grown to love and keenly anticipate.  Haque, meanwhile, questions the message TED is leaving with us:

The idea of our age is that Great Ideas can be simplified, reduced, made into convenient, disposable nuggets of infotainment — be they 18-minute talks, 800-word blog posts, or 140 character bursts.

TED is like an Orgasm Machine for the human mind. It gives us the climax of epiphany, without the challenge and tension of thought.

Great Ideas on the other hand - often leave more questions than solutions - they don't always resound immediately because it isn't always clear what to DO with them.  In Haque's words, "they challenge us to redefine the reality of our worlds..." - or as poet John Ciardi puts it:

"A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea"

So of one thing I am certain.  While all along I thought I was mining the net it is in fact the other way around.  The internet is slowly mining me.  In fact it is strip-mining me.  And while I haven't a clue as to how to reduce my dependance on it I'm thinking that upgrading to the latest iPhone this week was probably a bad decision!

The happy child

Oscar Pistorius as a child - Source The Daily Maverick

If I've learned anything about the media and our insatiable fascination with celebrity (particularly the fallen type) - I suspect the Oscar Pistorius affair is set to dominate the headlines for some time to come.

I suspect it will bore some of us before long too - (O.J. Simpson anyone?)

There was however one piece in The Daily Maverick by freelancer Alita Steenkamp (no relation to the tragically deceased Reeva) which got me thinking.  It was prefaced by the endearing photo of a beaming toddler wearing a bib, home-knitted jumper, blue shorts and prosthetic legs.  It was none other than our nation's erstwhile hero, the Blade Runner himself.  

The photo broke my heart.  I wanted to reach into the screen, pluck the lad out and place him on a path other than the one he would ultimately choose - even if it meant a life lived in obscurity.

It reminded me of a piece I read by a British Rabbi named Lionel Blue who, on his 52nd Birthday sat and contemplated a photo of himself as a young boy and then wrote a letter to that child.  

I include it here not to comment on the sub judice issues of the Pistorius affair but perhaps to invite you into a similar form of introspection.  None of us are immune from catastrophe - but we can manage at least some of the probabilities through the choices we make.

Here are some excerpts from Blue's letter:

Dear Child

I don’t know how we are related, if we are, for not one cell of your body lives in mine.  I know you tried to imagine me once or twice as you gazed into the future, but you wouldn’t recognize me now.  I don’t know if I’ve ever been your friend or foe, for there was a lot of niceness in you I never allowed to grow, but I didn’t have much choice!

It is of course your birthday too, and I remember the presents you longed for – a cup cake at the Corner House, meeting a millionaire who would give dad a job. 

But I cannot reach through the glass that separates us and can give you nothing.

I can’t even pass on some knowledge that would make your life easier.  That sort of knowledge, as you’ll learn later, always comes too late, after events not before them.

But as I look at you, your image gazes into me and I see myself without the rucksack of anger and reproaches I’ve got used to carrying on my back.  I wonder what it would be like to let it go, I know from your face that it wasn’t always there.  Perhaps I can, because as I get older I am closer to being a child again, a second time round, and I become free from grown-up hopes and fears.  

Or as Soren Kierkegaard said

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards"

Zip it!!

That’s right.  You heard me.

My new year’s resolution is to do just that.  To Zip it.  Let me explain.

Late last year my wife and I went to Cape Town to watch Linkin Park live in concert.  I had been waiting for that moment for like, 10 years or more and when it finally arrived I was determined to make the most of it.  So needless to say I sang (OK, screamed) my head off.  As a result, I awoke the morning after with that tell-tale scratch in my throat that said I might sound a bit like Barry White for the foreseeable future.

As it turned out, I sounded like Barry for a full week before my voice petered away to nothing…slap bang in the middle of a workshop with a client.  Instead of rescheduling the workshop we forged ahead; me handing written instructions to a colleague who in turn would read these out to the group.  Somehow, we limped through the day in this fashion. 

Then came the trip home.  Savage rainstorms had hammered Gauteng throughout the afternoon disrupting flights out of ORT by several hours.  What made it worse was that the airlines weren’t being completely honest about the delays and my flight got pushed out at least three times.  In the end, I flew out four hours late just before midnight.

Yet in spite of the obvious turmoil, the experience held the seeds of an intriguing discovery  - one profound enough to become enshrined as a resolution for 2013.  In a nutshell, here it is: 

When you can’t complain, the experience you wish to complain about isn’t half as frustrating as it would be if you could complain.  Therefore Zip It

Or put another way, silence is Golden.

The discovery came at about 10.45 when I bumped into my friend Robbie who’d been travelling for 2 days and was itching to get home to spend the weekend with his wife and small baby girl.  Robbie let fly with a stream of vitriol, no doubt hoping I’d add to it with a touch of my own hot air.  The more he vented, the more agitated he got.  When he was finished, I just gestured apologetically at my throat, croaked feebly and indicated with a slicing motion that I was a mute.  He nodded, said sorry and we parted ways.

I reflected on the evening which in some ways had been quite frustrating.  Yet once I’d resigned myself to the delay and settled down with a Cappuccino and my book it was actually quite an agreeable experience.  What's more, because I couldn’t recount the story to my wife the following day – or for the following three days - the experience rapidly faded from memory.  What role had being voiceless played in this strange phenomenon?  I don’t know but I’m sure it was a key factor.

The experience led me to two Bible stories in which people had been temporarily struck dumb because they failed to believe the promises of God.  One was Abraham’s wife Sarah (Genesis 17) and the other was John the Baptist’s father Zechariah (Luke 1).  A Typical interpretation of these two events suggests that the individuals concerned were being punished for their unbelief, which, so far as it goes, was probably true.  But was punishment the only end?  I believe that in at least one instance (Zechariah’s), the enforced silence was meant to create the space for the individual to grasp the momentous thing that God was doing.  As John emerges from his mother’s womb, Zechariah literally explodes into prophecy about both the significance of his son’s ministry and that of Jesus – suggesting his spirit had undergone  a massive change during his forced silence.

I am no saint but I’ve tasted just enough of silence’s benefits to believe that it’s going to play a key role in my spiritual growth this year. 

Who knows? I’ll keep you posted.

Farewell 2012

It’s December 31st and by my reckoning the hottest day of 2012.  Trust Mother Nature to see the year out with a bang!

2012 has been a bittersweet year combining intense highs with a sprinkling of bewildering lows.

The year began with a panic attack about work – or rather my perceived lack thereof.  In mid January I was convinced 2012 was going to be disastrous financially and that Lisa and I ought to be tightening our belts immediately.  I explored my stress in a post called “Sparrow Faith and my own business” 

I am pleased to say that the year has been anything but calamitous in this regard.  And though I had more “inspiration-time” than anticipated it still looks as though I am going to equal or better 2011’s revenue – not that it all comes down to money.  Strangely enough, in spite of God’s miraculous provision in 2012, I once again find myself looking at the year ahead with some degree of trepidation.  As my mate Trevor Mitchell says of working for oneself:  “It’s rather like jumping out of a 100 story building – on the way down, someone on the 75th floor yells out ‘how’s it going?’ – to which you reply – “so far so good!’”

In case I’ve led you to believe that a successful year is all about achieving one’s financial goals let me move swiftly on.  In the earlier part of 2012 I wrote a series of posts on personal growth and making one’s life matter.  The Tyrannical “to-do” list, Note to self: Don’t waste your life and Molested by Obligations were all attempts to rally myself into making proper time for recreation, contemplation and relationship with Christ.  I am afraid to say that I have not made satisfactory ground in this department.  Even an unbeliever may experience personal growth if he sets his heart upon it.  What I was after was an authentic, Christ-centred journey and a discernible move towards purposeful, Kingdom living.  As Paul wrote to the Corinthians,  “if only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men”.  

How to put this right?  Of course I know the answer!  It's motivation and discipline that matters.  It's also knowing that the decision alone to advance in relationship isn't enough:  good intentions are always trumped by the path you chose in life.  It was Andy Stanley's timely reminder which prompted the post How I lost 10 years of my life    

There was however one area of my faith journey that proved surprisingly satisfying:  our new home fellowship that grew in leaps and bounds throughout the course of the year – not just numerically but relationally too.  Perhaps the one great learning I take out of 2012 is a new appreciation of the inestimable gift of fellowship.  Indeed, along with prayer, it is the one tool God has given us all in abundant measure (we dare not waste it) to grow in him.  To my wife Lisa, Trevor and Sharon Packer, Ian and Marthie Kruger, Liz Steyn, Lorna Daniels, Lil Longden, Bheki and Thobile Mhlane, Andrew and Mel Clarkson, Des Hobart, Andreas Wassenaar and Tim Binder – thanks for your support of our Tuesday night meetings as well as all the fantastic times in between.  You have enabled a kind of growth in me that might otherwise not have been possible.

Another feature of 2012 was travel; in January, to a very cold and dreary London where, amongst other things I got the chance to visit Google’s UK offices.  Though my visit was brief, I was taken by the company’s enterprising spirit and ferocious ingenuity.  Unswayed by the obvious gloom and lassitude of the recession, Google is forging ahead - pedal to the metal.  On the wall I saw a quote by Henry Ford:  “If I’d asked Americans what sort of vehicle they wanted they would have asked for a faster horse”.  Perhaps 2013 is about changing the type of questions we ask? 

In June I visited Zimbabwe on a long overdue trip to see my folks.  I came away astonished by the tenacity of Zimbabweans who, in spite of living in a failed state, seem to soldier on regardless.  The human capacity to endure hardship and discomfort has, it seems, no bounds.  I returned to SA freshly reminded that while I may do much to feather my nest, I have very little say over the macro forces which can undo it at any second – illness, war, economic melt-down, etc.  The fact that I can tread the delicate meniscus of life without crashing through is entirely because of God’s goodness.  As Bear Grylls said of Mt Everest: “I didn’t conquer Everest:  Everest allowed me to crawl up the one side and stay on the peak for a few minutes” I wrote a post about that epiphany too.  Click here if you're interested

The highlight however was my 21-day odyssey through the exquisite country of Nepal and the stupendously majestic Himalaya Mountains - the fulfillment of a long standing dream.  The trip was tainted to some degree by the passing of my mother-in-law a week before my departure.  Though it was anticipated, it was a shock nonetheless – particularly for Lisa who I thank for encouraging me to travel regardless.  On the way to Nepal, we spent a morning in Dubai during which Martin Schumacher and I visited the world’s tallest building.  Not 5 hours later, we were weaving our way through the fetid streets of one of the world’s poorest capitals, Kathmandu.  The contrasts were both staggering and thought provoking to say the least.  A big thank you Martin Schumacher, Colin and Sandra Harris and Lil Longden all of who made the trip memorable – for good and bad reasons (Sandra!)  Thanks also to Rajendra Neupane and his team from Ace the Himalaya for the yeoman duties they performed on our behalf at those dizzying altitudes.  Another thanks to Martin – the organizer of the trip; a real gentleman, true adventurer and one of the toughest geezers I know.  If you care to, you can read about our adventures here.

As I go into 2013, I am reminded that anything worthwhile and built to last is going to take time, effort, discipline and sacrifice.  Indeed, I find myself at a cross-roads:  while time stops for no man there may come a time when it is too late to make something of my life.  Why else, I wonder, would the writer of Ecclesiastes have written “Rejoice, young man in the days of your youth”?

“Life”, warns Bill Hybels, “is long enough to live out God’s purpose, but too short to waste a moment”. 

So let me end – as much as a reminder to myself as to anyone else – with something I read recently in Paul Johnson’s “History of the American People”. 

“America did not come about without heroic sacrifice and great sufferings stoically endured, many costly failures, huge disappointments, defeats and tragedies”

I am excited by the future.  But God grant me the stomach for the fight.

Molested by Obligations

“If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are.  It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint.  And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”

Tim Kreider in The New York Times

Thus begins one of most thought provoking polemics of modern life I’ve read in ages.  And though primarily aimed at Americans, it could just as well be leveled at us here in SA.

At the risk of insulting you:  if you’ve caught yourself so much as murmuring the above in recent weeks you should be ashamed of yourself.  And if you don’t like my tone that’s fine, I invite you to stop reading and go no further.  But before you go, why not hop across to Tim’s column a read that instead?  Click here.

Still with me?  Thanks.  I heard a very sad story this week.

For a few weeks, a friend of mine had been meaning to have drinks with an old business partner.  Their appointment was on then it was off – mostly due, by his admission, to my friend’s suffocating work schedule.  Finally the two agreed to meet each other for drinks a few Mondays back.  The day in question arrived and with it the news that Gary had died the day before in a Cape Town hotel.  Naturally my friend was gutted and is still trying to deal with the guilt of blowing his friend off so repeatedly.

Why are we so busy?  Why, as Tim Kreider puts it, are we so “molested by obligations”?  If we knew just how much of our God-given capacity our busy-ness is withholding from the world and those around us, surely we would think twice before enslaving ourselves to it?

In writing the bestseller “How the mighty Fall”, Jim Collins spent years investigating the causes behind the collapse of some of America’s most successful businesses.  One factor was what he called “the undisciplined pursuit of more” – or a tendency to grasp for profits in a manner that is discontinuous with the founding philosophy of the concern.  Merck Pharmaceuticals was one such company.  An unrelenting obsession with a rheumatism drug called Vioxx became so overpowering that it eventually diluted the real power of Merck’s purpose-driven philosophy and wrought havoc with its share price.  

Which brings me to one of the most challenging blogs I’ve read in ages…Greg McKeown’s “The Disciplined Pursuit of Less”.  In it he asks:

"Why don't successful people and organizations automatically become very successful?  One important explanation is due to what I call "the clarity paradox," which can be summed up in four predictable phases:

Phase 1: When we really have clarity of purpose, it leads to success. 

Phase 2: When we have success, it leads to more options and opportunities.

Phase 3: When we have increased options and opportunities, it leads to diffused efforts.

Phase 4: Diffused efforts undermine the very clarity that led to our success in the first place.

Curiously, and overstating the point in order to make it, success is a catalyst for failure."

McKeown goes on to describe one exception to this rule - world-renowned oceanographer Enric Sala.  Over the period of several decades, Sala strategically resigned from a number of very good jobs until he'd manoeuvered into the one which most aligned with his strengths and desires – his dream job.

“The price of his dream job was saying no to the many good, parallel paths he encountered”

Having digested the writings of the three authors referenced above, two things are clear:  

Firstly, we are seldom content with “enough” – what’s true of big companies is true of individuals too.  When last did you walk away from an income opportunity because there was actually more value in not working?  If you're like me, it's been a while.

Secondly, we are too easily pleased with “good” jobs, possibly because we have never stopped to dream (as Enric Sala did) that the “excellent” is truly within our reach.  Yet “good” is the enemy of “excellent” - as Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “while everything might be permissible, not everything is beneficial…while everything is permissible, not everything is constructive”.

Did the writer of Proverbs 13 have any of this in mind when he spoke about our God given desires becoming a “tree of life”?  A tree which, under the right conditions and with the right attention provides emotional strength, financial strength, wisdom and a mind that’s at ease?

If so, what choices do you need to make to get that tree in order?  

Arrogance or something else?

With the closing ceremony of the 2012 Olympics only hours away, I want to reflect on an aspect of the games that’s been getting a lot of airtime lately – the reactions of the medal winners, Usain Bolt in particular.

In the wake of the Jamaican 4x100m victory, I posted some remarkable statistics attesting to the strength and depth of the island’s pool of sprinters.  I was annoyed, (but not surprised) by the ensuing vitriol for the Jamaican team’s celebrations and those of Usain Bolt in particular.  “He’s an arrogant SOB,” quipped one person while someone else sided with Carl Lewis’ speculations that the Jamaicans had been doping all along.

In the wake of a Jamaican 1 2 3 in the 100m dash, Bolt was heavily criticized for taking a camera off a journalist and recording the moment for posterity.  

Picture courtesy of The Guardian

Why are we so quick to label confidence as arrogance?  Though there is a fine line between the two, I believe there’s a clear demarcation.  So let’s look at two Olympic happenings that, at least for me, helped chalk up the boundary.

The women’s 100m hurdles.  American and former world champion Lolo Jones places fourth behind compatriots Dawn Harper and Kelly Wells who manage a silver and a bronze.  Later in an NBC interview the two medal winners express their disgust at how Jones’s defeat is getting more airtime than their second and third place achievements.

US Athlete Lolo Jones.  

Picture courtesy of nationalconfidential.com

It turns out that Jones – a devout Christian and beautiful to boot – has been on the media “A” list for some time now.  Earlier this year, after tweeting that preparing for the Olympics was nowhere near as hard as preserving her virginity, the media spotlight turned on her with an intensity that few other members of Team USA experienced in the run up to the games.  

In the news industry, it’s the newsmen who decide what’s newsworthy, a fact that seems to have either eluded or been spitefully ignored by Jones’ fellow teammates.  Rivalry between sportsmen and women is to be expected – but jealousy over a fellow team member getting more media attention than you – especially when you won a medal – well that’s arrogance of the highest order.

Then of course there’s Usain Bolt and lesser-known Olympian Robert Harting.  Thanks to a few thoughtful journalists, we have an alternative explanation to the allegations of arrogance we’ve been hearing all along.  Of Bolt et al, Tim Adams of The Guardian says the following:

In among all the choreographed celebrations … there has always been just a trace of an emotion that it is hard to imagine the great sprinter owning up to: relief. Relief that his gift remains intact.  Relief that the gods continued to smile on him on this the biggest stage … Few athletes appear to show as much joy in victory as Bolt, but like all the greatest sportsmen you guess he is fuelled equally by a raging fear of defeat…

Though never televised, the reaction of German discus thrower could attract as much criticism as the Jamaican speedster.  Upon winning the Gold medal, Robert Harting ripped off his shirt, draped himself in his country’s flag and began bounding over hurdles which had been set up for the women’s 100m event.  Instead, Tony Manfred of Business Insider described Harting’s reaction as one of “adrenaline fueled passion and child-like joy”. 

Discus Gold Medal Winner, Germany's Robert Harting

Picture courtesy of Business Insider

So, perhaps what some have labeled “arrogance” is in fact a sublime form of relief alloyed with the unfettered and eruptive joy of vindication.  Which leaves one final question:  why does it make some people uncomfortable? 

Are we really that squeamish about success, particularly that of the inordinately gifted individual, the one with whom we could never hope to compete anyway?  Have we forgotten that the Olympics apart from being the rarefied litmus test of going faster, higher and further are a celebration of the human spirit too?

One Facebook friend wrote that the Brits actually loved the Jamaicans for their exaggerated celebrations and said, “their arrogance was not taken seriously”.  

Interestingly, she also said this:  “We Brits find it easier to fail than to show off”.

It was a courageous admission though probably not limited to the Brits.

Living Expansively

It’s been a week since I heard the news of Lukas’ death in Alaska’s Atigun Gorge.  Since Olaf’s final post on the expedition’s Facebook page, the details surrounding the tragic event are now widely known.

As for me, I’ve been reflecting this week on why this story affected me the way it did.   Let me make a confession:  I barely knew Lukas.  My wife and I probably only met him 2 or 3 times and then only “shared” him in a larger crowd.  Though we were Facebook friends, the only contact I had with him in 3 years was to request his secret Lamb shank recipe a few Christmases back.  So why the preoccupation with his death this past week?

It could be that the story bore strong parallels with the movie “Into the Wild” – and a book of the same name written by John Krakauer.  In that poignant case however, the drama surrounded a young college student’s somewhat reckless sojourn in the wilds of Alaska.  But since Lukas was always meticulously prepared for his adventures and already highly experienced in extreme and hostile environments, this could not explain my sadness fully.

Another reason might be that I actually contacted Lukas via Facebook just three days before his death to wish him well for his birthday and to invite him on a trekking holiday in Nepal this September.  If anyone would accept such an invitation it would be he.  But in spite of the uncanny timing, this explanation falls short too. 

A third explanation seems to resonate more deeply.  Not since opening a Facebook account 6 years ago have I seen the medium serving a community more powerfully than it did last week.  It wasn’t just the innumerable and heartfelt condolences on his Facebook wall.  It was the fact that for a few very moving days, people from all over the world; regardless of race, language, gender or creed came together in a messy yet sincere effort to not only console one another but to genuinely assist each other in celebrating the life of a human being who had touched them in so many ways.  If ever there was a sincere and  spontaneous celebration of shared humanity this was it.

Moreover – and I admit I may be reading too much into things – it was as though each post bore the telltale signs of self-examination.  While none should aspire to become a carbon copy of this unique individual, his death served as a blunt yet timely interrogation:  what is stopping me from living as generously, urgently, courageously and expansively as he lived? 

Mindful of the persisting sense of loss I find myself wrestling with a question: Can a man achieve more through his death than he did through his life?  

I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.

John 15

Troubled as we remain over the fact that he is gone and haunted by the wasteful and potentially avoidable nature of his demise, this tragedy has produced “many seeds”.  Indeed, is not each Facebook update and tear shed a separate sowing?

Who knows what he would say to this from the vantage point of eternity?  For one thing, it is quite likely that he is laughing over what happened, his fall no more to him than it would be to us had we tripped over the cat.   As the Great World War I poet Wilfred Owen wrote in stirring “Spring Offensive”

Of them who running on that last high place

Leapt to swift unseen bullets, or went up

On the hot blast and fury of hell’s upsurge,

Or plunged and fell away past this world’s verge,

Some say God caught them even before they fell.

For another, he would almost certainly encourage us to reach higher.  As Paul wrote to the Corinthians (2 Corinthians 6: 12 - The Message Translation)

I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life.  We didn’t fence you in.  The smallness you feel comes from within you.  Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way.  I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives.  Live openly and expansively!

Or as C.S. Lewis wrote in “The Last Battle” – “Further up and further in!”

Post Script

A lot of the time we tend to define success in terms of how we'd like our epitaph to read.  The Bible is fairly clear that this is like putting the cart before the horse.  Psalm 37 clarifies that we only get the desires of our heart when we "delight in the Lord", when we "seek his face" - when we prioritise the Kingdom ahead of our earthly ambitions.  Viktor Frankl said:

"Don't aim at success - the more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it.  For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one's dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one's surrender to a person other than oneself.  Happiness must happen, and the same holds for success:  you have to let it happen by not caring about it.  I want you to listen to what your conscience commands you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of your knowledge.  Then you will live to see that in the long run - in the long run, I say! - success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think of it"