Desire to be Great

I don’t remember a lot of things about my childhood, but while meditating on why I can’t enjoy practicing my hobbies anymore, I recalled an event from my past. It was an ordinary day, and nothing special happened—yet I remembered a conversation with my father. We were talking about how great some people are, and he told me that we should not settle for being mediocre; we should strive to be great. Because if you excel at something—if you’re the best at it—other aspects of your life will improve as well. You’ll have money, people will respect you, and so on.

Reflecting on that, I realized how this notion of trying to be the best has affected me. It wasn’t his fault—I believe he had the best intentions—and even without that conversation, I might have turned out much the same. The problem is, I’ve come to see how that mindset can poison everything you do.

I have many hobbies, and I’ve noticed a pattern: whenever a hobby involves skill, like drawing or music, I obsess over being the best at it. This drains all the joy out of it. I’m never satisfied with my current skill level—if my drawings aren’t as good as others’, I feel compelled to practice more. Even with the guitar, which I recently started learning, I only focus on structured lessons. I’ve lost the ability to simply play for fun. As a child, drawing was enjoyable not because I was a master, but because I could find pleasure in it even without attaching meaning to my creations.

Recently, I’ve realized that I need to be more content—not just with what I have, but with who I am and the skills I possess. No matter how much I practice, if my focus remains on how good I could become, I’ll never be satisfied with where I am now. What I truly need is to let go of these toxic desires. No amount of money will make me happy if, once I have it, I still crave something else. This fixation on what I lack is the real root of my suffering—and the reason I can’t enjoy life as it is.

I could walk around my neighborhood and probably find someone in a miserable situation who still wears a smile. Meanwhile, as a senior engineer, I struggle to find joy or contentment in anything. That’s because status means nothing—my achievements mean nothing. Society assigns value to these things, but if I keep chasing the next milestone, I’ll remain miserable.

I need to care less, take things less seriously, and—most importantly—relearn how to play. I need to rediscover the joy in simple things. That’s the most important skill in life. It doesn’t matter what your status is, how much money you have, or how many possessions you own—you could lose all of that. But truly knowing how to enjoy and experience life? That’s the real mastery. The question now is: how do I develop it?