Is it? Last night I had the experience of dining with "accomplished" people. People roughly my age who are uber-professionals. One, a doctor, journalist, and TV producer. The other (her husband), a published author and contributing editor for a very well-respected, well-known publication. They have the sort of house that you see in movies about interesting, intellectual, complicated, accomplished, people. Whimsical and eclectic art; a grand piano; a dog and a cat with equally charming personalities; many, many books on grand, built in bookcases; unusual and well-worn furnishings--more chic in their shabbiness. This is a house where grown-ups live. Grown-ups with full and interesting lives that take them to foreign cities and dinners with famous people and the sets of famous TV shows to which they consult.
The other adult guests were charming and fascinating as well. The daughter of the other guests, and of our hosts, a pair of 12 year-old girls, cooked the meal that we shared. We were regaled over dinner with stories of famous and not-so-famous, interesting, accomplished, people.
What makes a person accomplished? Why did (do) I feel so "less than" after my evening with these grown-ups? I think of Emerson's words: "To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." Alas, this has become the measure of my days, the goal I strive for. It may be too late for some kinds of success. But it is never too late to live in the moment. In fact, the older I get, the more imperative it seems. In the moments that make up a 24-hour day, can I be kind and loving? Can I reach out to someone in need? Can I make someone laugh, and not at someone else's expense? Can I set a good example for my daughter about what it means to be human in relation to another human? Many, many days I fail at one or most or all of these things. Just as I have failed at grander enterprises: jobs, dreams, relationships, careers. But every day, if I want it, I have the opportunity to try again to succeed at being the best person I can be. A worker among workers, a true and caring friend, a grateful and loving daughter, a gentler mother and spouse. That can be enough, if I am humble enough to let go of my ego and if I remember not to compare myself with others.
Heck, I'm no Walt Whitman!
