I got a lot of comments from different sources regarding my post Throw Out Your Goals.  There were a few misconceptions that I want to cover.  First let me list some of them:

• Goals are important to accomplish what we want
• Brad Pitt has good genes and is lucky
• Success is defined differently for different people
• Just because you love something doesn’t mean you’ll be good at it
• Not every one can do what they love and get paid for it

There were plenty more.

Let’s start with defining success.  My first post never defined success.  It defined certain people’s level of success but never went as far as gave it a definition.  In this post, I will remain ambiguous on the definition of success.  Because who ever commented and said success is different for different people is correct.  I know a man who thinks he’s successful because he’s raised healthy, intelligent children.  I know fighters who’ve beaten great opponents who believe their own performances were below par.  Hell…Donald Trump hates being a multi-millionaire, and only considers himself a success when he has multi-billions.

Success is much like a goal.  Once you reach it, your work, the process to attain it, doesn’t stop.  If a fighter won her first fight, she doesn’t stop training.  She continues to train for the next fight.  If she’s won the world belt in her weight class, then she still has to continue to sharpen her skills for her first title defense.  What happens when she defends it successfully?  Celebrates?  For sure!  Beware.  There are others who are hungry for her belt.  Back to the process.  What if she loses?  Back to the process.

I love this one.  Brad Pitt has good genes and is lucky.  I’m not denying his good genes and looks.  What I do deny is his luck.  To say he was lucky is to deny the hard work he’d committed, wearing a chicken suit, working odd jobs, before he got his first major role.  Look at Steve Carrell.  He was an unknown comic for twenty years until luck struck him.  Luck?  No.  Hard work and perseverance?  Most definitely.  

And good looks was never a prerequisite for success in Hollywood.  With over a million good looking people in Los Angeles, it doesn’t explain Jack Black.  Now, some find him hot.  But he’s doesn’t fit the traditional leading man look.

This next one is good.  You can’t make a living doing what you love is a lot of people’s excuse to settle for mundane jobs.  I’m not saying quit your day job, lose your house, die of starvation.  Keep your day job, but work on what you love during your free time.  John Grisham is a great example.  He was a lawyer for ten years before he wrote his first novel.  He got to the office two hours before he started his real job, wrote, then started on his case list.  The awesome thing is he published his first book.

If you don’t think you can make a living doing what you love, then you won’t.  Simple as that.

Think you’d suck being a parent?   You will.

Believe you can run a marathon?  Follow up with action, and you will.

Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right.  Henry Ford said that.  He wanted to create a V-8 engine.  He surrounded himself with brilliant engineers. You know what they said?  Can’t be done.  Ford pushed them forward, told them it was possible.  Through several failures, it was done.  Look it up.  True story.

The last one I want to tackle is:  just because you love it doesn’t mean you can be good at it.  Crap.  In Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers:  The Story of Success, he talks about mastery of skill.  He’d found one commonality among all world class musicians, artists, athletes, etc.  What is it?  Ten thousand hours of practice.  You want to be a world class anything?  Here it is, ten thousand hours of work.  That’s why you gotta love the process, not the goal.  Love the process, the goal will come many times over.

One day two ants carried their loads on their backs. These were regular ants that you’d find on your kitchen table, coming from an unseen opening in the wall. On their backs, they carried a dead bug, their golden meal ticket. The dead bugs were at least three times their size, massive. Going with the flow of thousands of others, they lugged the prize. One seemed to have a red tinge on the black-shelled body. The other ant was as black as deep night. Both seemed to race each other toward the main entrance of the ant hill.

The black one tripped the red one. The red ant dropped it’s meal. With no thought of revenge, it picked up the dead bug and continued on its way. The flow of ants out of the hill slowed the black one, allowing red to catch up.

The stream of incoming ants intersected into its path. Both had to climb above, then around, then pushed their way toward the main entrance of the ant hill. First black was ahead. Then red budged its way first. A wind blew, forcing both to drop their treasured meal. They scrambled to reclaim their packages.

Again, both trudged on, racing their way into the cavernous entrance. Once they entered, the tunnels narrowed, and the massive dead bugs scraped against the ceiling. It was loud and the sound of trains leaving and entering the tunnels blared. The ants lowered the weight right on their backs, making the trip through the tunnels harder. Thousands of others traveled up. Foot steps vibrated the floors. Black pushed through, passing red. Red was pummeled back, but it climbed above the others and flew by black. The trip made harder when the tunnels angled up. Each stair was taken one step at a time.

The opening came into view. A bright light shined down. The blue sky marked the finish line. Red made a push to pass the black ant. Black shove the red against the railing. Red grasped its prize and pulled itself up, digging its feet down and plunging forward. The end of the tunnel fast approached. Black and red edged each other, and it was hard to tell who was first. Thousands of ants poured out of the tunnel, and the cold air of their city greeted them. Narrow bands of the blue sky framed by massive sky scrapers. I shifted my backpack on red sweater, walked onto the street, entered my building, and logged on my computer. The day droned on as normal.