Competitive happiness
We all have words that build our sense of identity. Our personality’s word-cloud of sorts, which are often the exact themes that shape your perception of happiness.
They don’t even need to be of the same kind or follow a pattern. Competitive, creativity and martial arts, for example, stand out pretty loud on mine. That’s who I think I am, and when I feel I am close to those ideas, I feel good about myself. When I’m failing that spirit, I resent everything around em keeping me away from those.
The problem happens when those words come into conflict with each other.
My competitive side is a good instance of that. The driving to being among the best has been very useful in my creative career. An ambition that drove me further than I ever imagined and always made me question why others weren’t the same way. I remember how annoyed I was when I saw other people more talented than me who were not willing to put out that sweat. How come they were ok with wasting all that creative power?
Years later, I find myself walking out of the gym. I had sparred with many people, and got submitted more often than I submitted others. So, in all accounts, it could have counted as a loss. Yet, the smiled I carried was one of victory. How come a competitive person like me be okay with not being the best around?
First, I knew I couldn’t have beaten most of them. There are people way more advanced, way stronger, way faster… but to be honest, there was more. I learned not to care about winning on those mats.
A while ago, I decided martial arts weren’t a competitive activity for me. It was only a self-improvement path. And the truth is: some of my teammates want it more than me. They want to be the best, just like I do in my business life. In those people’s eyes, I sometimes see that same question: “why doesn’t he want to be the best too?”
The fact is: I just don’t. And I love it. I cherish how fighting became this oasis of Zen in my life. A full hour or two of living without expectations.
This non-competitive side of me taught new lessons too. Especially how fulfilling it is to be in the service of those who are. Once I chose not to fight for the podium, the accomplishments of my colleagues become mine. Their progress pulls me up. Their brightness reflects on me. And we all grow together—as long as I am comfortable with not taking the lead.
There are two distinctive lessons on this observation.
1. You don’t need to carry your entire word cloud to all aspects of your life. I can be creative and competitive in business, and be very happy that way; while also being happy as a creative and non-competitive person in martial arts;
2. It’s totally ok to be on the no-expectation side of the spectrum on something, without feeling like I’m betraying my spirit. Better: it’s very pleasant to express and get to know this other side of myself. But then, I must stay out of the way of those who are on that driven path. And be okay with supporting them, following their draft instead.
That applies to any activity that requires a team. And if that includes even a solo sport like combat, it applies to everything else too. It reminds me how ok it is to have different motivations, as long as we are honest with them—both with ourselves and with the other members of the team. Because the worst composition there can be is a Zen person trying to slow down an ambitious one just because they don’t want to have to catch up with the energy, yet they don’t want someone else to be “better.”
Happiness is a land of competing nuances. Shades that switch for different aspects of life. Our relationship with competitiveness and being able to live with no-expectations is likely one of the most fascinating paradoxes within that pursuit. And if I don’t claim to know the absolute truth of that (or of anything, to be honest—age has that benefit), this victorious walk out of the gym, after having my ass kicked, may have given me a good glimpse of where that truth may be.
