That was my answer to a friend who asked me the other day how I felt about (insert whatever project I have undertaken in the past here). The follow up answer (which incidentally was to the question “Why?”) prompted me to explain that I did not know who the heck this Laurel was and felt uncomfortable resting on her.
I suppose this goes back to my upbringing. “That was good… and the next one will be even better.” Encouragement to that effect was a constant in my formative years. The gentle loving tone with which it was delivered (by my parents) was just as important in spurring on the attainment of “better”. Simply because the lack of the right tone in delivery could easily result in devastation and discouragement.
I’m not entirely sure but will venture to guess that my physical handicap played a role in this peculiar sort of encouragement. In my parents focus to raise me to be independent, whatever I undertook had to be above the norm in order to compete with the real world. Looking back, it’s not the kind of simple logic that can be argued with even among “normal” people.
So much so, when I listened to someone regaling a story of a major accomplishment or a “peak” event a certain melancholy would be mixed in me with the delight of the colorful recount. This was especially so when the tale was qualified with the word “best”. My twisted logic told me there was always more than Everest… that the person quit trying after attaining a certain level. As a result, words like “peak” connotes “limitation” to me.
Mind you I have also bombed… in major ways… in major spectacular ways. But it was never from the lack of trying. So, “only as good as the next” keeps me chasing rainbows. Afterall, what else is there to do?