This I followed and shouldn't have. At least, not in the way that I did. I pocketed this advice shortly before college and took the words wayyy too literally. Even today, I struggle to fully let this one go. It's beguiling, the idea of a golden apple hanging a finger twitch out of reach, that a modicum of effort to lift my hand would make it devilishly mine.
Sadly, I'm easily starstruck by stories about stumbling into success. There are endless factors that can't be controlled, yet I'm tempted to try. At a previous job, my boss published an essay about shaping one's own luck, that fortune favors the well prepared, toward whom opportunities flow. I share this belief. While no decision or amount of work ethic can guarantee results, surely these things accrue weight in my favor across the cosmic dice. I grapple with the unfortunate reality that success breeds further success, every moment consisting of micro-opportunities to carve out more pivotal ones.
That said, I wish I'd realized back in college that shaping one's luck is a careful art. I often made commitments for the sake of saying yes, gambling for that golden apple to fall out of the sky. Looking back, I think I was counterbalancing too hard against the fear of failure. I was in my boldness era (sparked by my 10th grade English teacher). I wanted to burst through every door, trampoline off every safety net that came with being young.
I knew failure had consequences, but I considered only the internal. The sting of rejection, or of falling short a particular standard. Since I didn't want to be the type of person whose ego couldn't handle a bit of battering, I reassured myself that at worst I would emerge a hair more resilient. At least I could say I tried.
So I picked up new endeavors like shiny rocks off a beach, until one day I received an email wishing to never work with me again. Oops.
Turns out failure affects other people and it's my responsibility to weigh that risk. I chased opportunities for egoistic reasons, and though a healthy kick of egoism never hurts, the pendulum swung far enough that I needed an even healthier kick of reality.
That email was a consequence of me biting off more than I could chew. I didn't manage expectations properly, didn't know what I didn't know, and I didn't know how to figure that out. I assumed dropping the ball on a commitment would be fine because things would simply return to their status quo, but expectations do affect people's decisions, which I'd inadvertently thrown into disarray.
Although this instance, my mistake, won't make it into the history books, it's a handy memory to dredge up when I'm on the cusp of saying yes to something too soon. A healthy kick of lingering guilt helps me give it proper thought. When an opportunity presents itself, I still instinctively ready myself to pounce, but I try to weigh both my ability and willingness to succeed before taking it.
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