Success

Written on June 11, 2019

Success is fleeting
It is but a dream
A mystery shrouded in gossamer
One minute you're bussing tables
Laden with dirty dishes and pathetic pennies for tips
The next thing you're kicking back
In your multicolored sneakers
And dapper woolen suit
On a silver platinum leather sofa
Talking with a toothy grinned talk show host about those early server days
Laughing away like you'd never laugh again. 

Success is a temporary solution
To the pain and suffering we go through
Day in and day out
We convince ourselves that everything is bigger and brighter
Cooler and shinier
Healthier and prettier
When we have a mansion, a 2,000 square foot jacuzzi, three kids
All attending private schools in the Berkshires
And a six-figure salary, complete with a kiss-my-ass CEO title to match

While we revel in our success
The planet burns slower and slower
The ozone hole getting wider and wider
Darker and scarier by the minuto
Earthquakes in Ohio shaking people's houses
Tornadoes uprooting millions of tall trees in Dallas
Wildfires ravaging Los Angeles

Meanwhile kids are dying of suicide bombings
Crying tears of anguish
As the government refuses to put down its weapons of 
Mass destruction and send those same kids to school
Depriving them of a life of their own.

I don't know what my own take on success is
And I don't really want to follow society's definitions of success
I don't know if I want to be a celebrity
With paparazzi throwing themselves at me like dogs
I don't know if my core is strong enough
To take the trolls, the critics and the self-doubt
My heart aches when I think about the polar bears
Trying to survive on less than a millimeter of ice
While I travel the globe in my private 747, sipping a glass of pinot grigio
Feeling guilt but not doing anything constructive to process that guilt

When I make it to Carnegie
Will I still tense up with fear?
When I get on that gilded stage with my cello
Will I taste bile coming up from
The Charybdis of my throat? 
At that moment, will I surrender my ego
To the sweet sounds of Dvorak's Cello Concerto in B minor
Or get so bogged down by the inner critic
That shouts at me to stop playing and just give up already?

Life is a learning process
Not everyone finds their passion when they're 3
Success is not a straight line
But a complicated labyrinth, a Rubik's cube that is hard to solve
A stray cow-lick that is hard to pin down no matter
How much gel or hairspray or cement you put on it.
Success has its ups and downs
It is a heart monitor, zig-zagging day after day
Minute after minute
Hour after hour

Success is what you make of it
It is like a technicolor dreamcoat
Not a black and white cookie
Success has its ups and downs
But in the end, it means not giving up
It means showing up whether you feel like it or not.
The words on this page are utter crap.
Yet I have shit to say and I'mma damn well say it.

It means, this definition of success, 
Celebrating each victory, no matter how small
Going to bed feeling grateful
Even just having lived another day
Feeling appreciation for life itself
Success is what you make of it. 
It's a technicolor dreamcoat, not a black and white cookie
When you make that big break, it's okay
To shed tears of joy, jump around the room in squeals
Run over the allotted speech time until the pit orchestra cuts you off
(Next award announcer please.)

And when you fall hard
Cry it out
Just get back up and go at it again
Even if you're crawling like an earthworm
Who has baked in the 100 degree heat and 
Fried like a Sunny-side-up egg
Tries to make the most of even
The smallest ounce left of its life
Even if your body is trying to brandish its sword
Against the dark demons in the depths of your mind
Even if your body spears them
Even when that bitter wormwood voice shouts at you
To throw in the towel and quit on life
Keep going
Keep crawling until you get to the door
Keep crawling until you open the door just a crack
To bring in the sunlight
And ward away the black

Even when you are screaming a blood curdling cry
At your body
Crawling, screaming, pleading at your limp noodle body
To go just one more day without taking those pills
Without putting that blade to those wrists
Without knotting that rope
To fight the demons that feast upon your limp noodle body
Day after day
Night after night
Hour after hour
Year after year
Minute after minute
Second after second
If you crawled even just an inch
Congrats you have made it
But there's no endpoint
Keep crawling
And trust me, success will feel like dining at a five-star restaurant
Success means continuing to drive
Even when your engine keeps sputtering and retching empty fumes
Success means different things for different people

Success is success
And it's what you make of it. 

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Author: The Arts Are Life

I am a writer and musician. Lover of music, movies, books, art, and nature.

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