Success?

I'm sure you've all heard successful by Drake.......if not then congratlations, you've successfully separated yourself from the mainstream.

But i digress.....

When i heard the chorus, it made an interesting thought pop up in my cranium.....

Why be successful?

Why let others tell you how much you're worth and and how much yo've accomplished?

Why live in the box, the cage, the illusion, the mirage of society?

Another glorious thought popped up in my head......

Why not DEFINE success?

Measure how much you've accomplished by YOUR standards...

I bet you didn't know that some people consider Bill Gates, yes, BILL GATES, a failure...simply because he left Harvard before they said he could go.

These same people express these opinions on computers that HIS corporation manufactures......purely circumstantial in their book. Irrelevant. To them, no fancy degree=failure

Education does take you places, but who says you want to go? sure it's nice to fall back on, but suppose you don't WANT to?

Society is based on the idea that without going to school, you're doomed to a life of labor and low wages. Or maybe no wages at all.

Some people might call this theory 'slackness' or laziness' or ignorance.....

but who defines THOSE terms? Definition.....such a relative yet concrete word...

So I'll go ahead, define my OWN version of success and go for it, if you don't mind......

I plan to go to college, but only because nobody wants a doctor who doesn't know how to help them get better

Pain

And a woman spoke, saying, 'Tell us of Pain.' And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. Khalil Gibran