Why it's perfectly OK to be ordinary—and unambitious

 

“We want rock stars.”

“10x engineers.”

“Super achievers.”

It’s an overwhelming reality of the world we live in. Every company wants exceptional, super-productive people on its teams. And every individual strives to be in the top 10, 20, or whatever number they fancy in a given realm.

The human race has been in a relentless race with its own kind for as long as anyone can remember. For everything—from jobs and sports to crazy feats and rare honors.

But, of late, the desire to be extraordinary has taken on a ferocity that makes the rest of us—the ordinary folk who form the bulk of Planet Earth’s inhabitants—shudder.

I have nothing against superlative achievement or the pursuit of excellence, mind you. On the contrary, aspiring to reach our highest potential is a worthy, admirable goal.

I’m here to warn against and provide a contrarian view to the blind cult of ambition at any cost. Against an all-consuming pursuit that usually breeds secret fears of being left behind in an avalanche of technology-led progress. Which also begets unhealthy envy. And depression. And, quite often, a dangerous attitude of “making a mark, come what may.”

So much so that many “driven” people wouldn’t think twice before building their palaces by bulldozing the tiny huts of those who aren’t as “passionate” (read “aggressive”).

Again, it’s all right to be full of energy and follow one’s dreams in right earnestness. But reckless driving to mow down others? Not done.

To be sure, it takes a combination of talent, hard work, and the right circumstances (also known as luck) to reach the pinnacle of success in any field.

Plus, there’s only so much room at the top (unless you are thinking of climbing Mount Everest, where it’s a crowded slugfest now!)

But, more importantly, and the main point of this post: not everyone needs to be super ambitious or extraordinary. In fact, in their heart, a majority of people are not ambitious—though many of them harbor borrowed ambitions and expectations of those around them (Remember the “What do you want to be when you grow up” spiel or the never-ending plea to “push the envelope”?).

IMHO, most folks just want to live in an admixture of peace, love, and fun—with or without achieving a supposedly lofty goal. 

Not all who join as employees do so to become the CEO—which is okay. (They may still become the CEO which, again, is okay.)

Not all folks who play a sport or go for daily runs do so to win an Olympics medal—which is okay.

Not everyone who applauds a theatrical performance is looking to be a stage actor—which is okay. 

And not all who put on makeup want to win beauty pageants—OK, again.

Ordinariness is an essential, irrefutable fact of life. It is, of course, not to be worn as a badge of honor—but nor is it to be looked down upon. Ordinariness or lack of ambition is usually the way things are, and the person that others label as “ordinary” or “unambitious” may not give it two hoots.

What’s more, labels can be misleading. An ordinary assistant, for instance, may be a great human being while an extraordinary CEO can be lousy and mean. A “successful” career politician can fill you with disgust while a “street tramp” playing the violin can bring a smile to your face.

What matters more than ambition—whether you consider yourself extraordinary or ordinary—is the sincerity with which you do the job at hand or the empathy with which you treat your fellow humans and other sentient beings.

I’m not just preaching this to you—I speak from experience. I gave up being ambitious in my career when I was in my forties. Somewhere along the line, I stopped chasing increments or jumps but, instead, began to walk with a pace that was more in step with my psyche. I also focused more on what mattered to me personally (to the extent I could). This included meditation, reducing my cravings, and taking joy in the little things of life. Seeing my friends and even complete strangers flourish and laugh made me happy. Before long, I felt more fulfilled, more connected with the world at large, even as I quietly acknowledged my own tininess.

At a time when the specter of AI is looming large over jobs, it is important to wield human ordinariness not only as a shield but as something of great value—one that no extraordinary AI model can ever generate. 

It is important to strive for excellence—but more by means of who we are than by the judgment of others. It's even more urgent to achieve collective happiness and peace in a world increasingly divided by labels, gaps, and rifts. 

It is indeed important and necessary—and perfectly all right—to be ordinary.