On Ambition

A few weeks ago, on a Saturday morning, we made impromptu plans to meet some of K's friends at the neighborhood park. The friends were visiting briefly from the U.S. and living with one of their siblings nearby. 

"Oh, and their kids are coming too. I met them when they were babies. They are very cute." K said as we headed out the door. Okay, then.

At the park, we first did the mandatory social performance thing that one must do when meeting new people. It was midmorning, and the park was teeming with life. Squirrels and children scurried about. The sun was actually fully out. Dogs lay on their backs, being their ridiculous, goofy selves. Poppies, dahlias, and nasturtiums bloomed chaotically. This was a nice day.

"Alexander the Great Confronts Darius III at the Battle of Issos" (Pompeii Mosaic, circa 100 BC)It symbolizes Alexander's ambition for conquest. credit:this very cool art history blog.

Our friends' kids, a boy and a girl, were maybe six and eight. The boy pet every single one of the scraggly dogs in the park. His dad, who I later learned was some type of finance dude, correctly joked about how the boy's "risk assessment was poor."

The kid's uncle, also our friend, briefly joined the group. "It's Yes Day!" the little girl told us excitedly as her uncle approached. The uncle explained that Yes Day was a production he'd made up. A whole day was dedicated to saying yes to anything the kids demanded. 

I was immediately taken. Yes Man, featuring Jim Carrey, is premised on the same idea—a withering, sad dude comes back to life after he starts saying yes to opportunity. It might be my favorite movie of all time. I get an optimistic, expansive feeling every time I watch it, and it reminds me that life has infinite possibilities.

"Wow. I'd like a Yes Day, too! So what's on your list?" I asked the kids. The girl had a somewhat quizzical look on her face. "Maybe some popsicles?" she said almost tentatively and very very softly.

That's when my unthinking ass made a potentially toxic suggestion. "That's it?! It's Yes Day! You've got to think big! You've got to have some ambition!"

I felt the energy change around us ever so slightly. The girl's eyes rolled inward, and her mother immediately interrupted this whole exchange and quickly changed the subject. 

I didn't have kids, and in that moment, it showed.

The kids left to start Yes Day with their uncle, and the parents and us headed into our planned walk through the park. We talked about our respective jobs, lives, and existential crises. It was all very 2024. 

Thirty minutes in, fun uncle calls. 

Finance dude: "S is asking for a toy truck. Your brother is asking if he can get it for her. Is there enough space in our bags?" 

There wasn't enough space. 

My heart sank. I said the A word and turned this lovely child into an inconvenience-causing monster.

Ambition is a somewhat uncomfortable subject to discuss. In my evolving understanding of it, ambition has felt like the defining trait of an amoral lizard person. The words cunning, power-hungry, and calculating come to mind. Yet, I can't deny that I've considered myself ambitious for most of my adult life. Maybe some shadow work is pending here. 

Ritesh Banglani wrote this thought-provoking thread on Twitter earlier yesterday, which really spoke to some of the sources of my own ambition. As I understand, my ambition has stemmed from a misunderstood sense of self that sought recognition and value, and these may well be disguises for a more profound need for acceptance. There's also a crusty, childish urge to settle old scores. You know, "The best revenge is living well," etc. It is all very inside-in. And it may not be ambition at all.

Packy McCormick

wrote this powerful essay, "Ambition's Gravity," earlier this week, and it's been on my mind a lot. The essay has a vitality to it, and you should read it for yourself. I read it a few times over, pacing up and down from the kitchen to the living room. In essence, Packy reframes ambition. He speaks of it not so much as the accumulation of power, wealth, and prestige as much as the magnitude of an idea and the pursuit of an expanded life. It is an audacity to create something of enduring and scalable value.

This sort of ambition sets apart the most remarkable people of our times from those of us foolishes (myself included especially) engaging in egoic one-upmanship in our laptops and cubicles. Weekly reminder: the ambitious aren't sending sexy emails. They're focused on service and on improving the world. 

If I met that kid again, I'd tell her to not be a greedy truck-buying gorgon. This isn't Texas. I said what I said.