Gold in Someone Else’s Sun
How much does talent matter in a world where talent leads to success? Can you succeed in life while being mediocre? Or does mediocrity mean making your life a democracy?
I wouldn’t claim to be talented. Nothing I do feels more than average. It’s a truth I don’t love, but one I’ve come to accept, at least partially. Of course, most of us want to stand out, to be one of the best at something. I often wish I were exceptionally good at something. It would surely make me a more interesting person and serve as a great icebreaker.
But maybe it’s okay to just stand in. To be part of the crowd without feeling unworthy or desperate to be better. We should always strive to grow, but only in relation to ourselves, not because we’re competing with others. And comparison is natural. Being human doesn’t come with a manual, so we look around to see if we’re doing things right.
The flaw, though, is assuming others know what they’re doing either. Gold will always shine brighter when the sun is reflecting on it. If you dim your own light and shine it on someone else, of course they’ll look brighter than they really are. Maybe we’ve dimmed our lights so low that talent seems like anything better than how we define ourselves.
If talent is defined only through comparison, then we’re all mediocre, because that scale has no beginning or end. But what if we shift our view? If we define talent within ourselves, ranking our own unique strengths, then we’re all exceptional at something. In our own ways. On our own terms. Without needing to place anyone above or below.
If you crave competition, compete only with yourself. It’s the only rival that really matters. Use that energy to enhance your strengths, refine your craft, and explore parts of yourself that would otherwise stay hidden. Competition and talent aren’t the enemy. Comparison is.
It’s also a common misconception that being good at something has to come naturally, without effort. I’ve fallen for that mindset more times than I’d like to admit. I once listened to Taylor Swift’s mirrorball twenty times in one day just to hear the line:
“I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.”
That lyric sums up my life. I used to sing it like it was some curse that had been placed on me, the curse of having to try at everything: school, friendships, writing. My life felt ruled by my inability to be a natural.
But my perspective has changed. Being a natural may be easier, but where’s the fun in that? Lessons come from failure. Stories come from experience. A life well lived is one full of mistakes, and mistakes only happen when you’re brave enough to try not to make them.
So maybe I wasn’t born a miniature Shakespeare, but I have the privilege of witnessing my own evolution in real time. I’ve also learned that rewards earned with effort feel richer. Think about it. Brushing your teeth doesn’t bring a sense of accomplishment because it requires no struggle. Effort is what makes the reward meaningful.
I think the real curse isn’t having to try. It’s living life hollow, untouched by the beauty of striving.
