How do you define success in life?
How do you define success in life?
That’s a question I might have answered very differently at seventeen, twenty-five, forty or even fifty.
Was success the long slog towards gaining a place at Oxford? The exhilaration of making a short film and selling it to Channel 4? Becoming a writer, producer and director? Post-graduate studies and degrees. (Two MAs) Or, more recently, qualifying as a Senior Club Coach in swimming, helping young people achieve things they might never have imagined themselves capable of?
All of these felt like success at the time. They represented ambition, application, perseverance and, occasionally, a little luck. They were goals worth pursuing, mountains worth climbing. But reaching the summit invariably revealed another mountain beyond it.
And then there is last night.
Lewes Bonfire Night. The town had its annual jamboree of fire, fireworks, flaming torches, processions and magnificent collective eccentricity.
Our two adult children are downstairs. They came home to Lewes to enjoy the celebrations. My wife has just returned from a stint volunteering in a charity shop. Shortly, we’ll wave them off again, to Brighton and London.
I’ve been married for thirty-three years (tougher for thirty six). We’ve raised two children who are now making their own way in the world, but who still regard this place as home.
And here we are, together.
I’ve spent much of my life pursuing possibilities, following my curiosity, learning new things, trying my hand at different occupations, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing, frequently changing direction.
I don’t regret any of it. Indeed, I hope there are still a few mountains left to climb.
But success, I’ve come to realise, isn’t necessarily what you achieve. It’s what you build, what you share, what you give to others and what endures.
Thirty-three years of marriage. Two grown-up children. A family. A home to come back to.
I think I’ve answered the question.
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