I’ve heard men say that their children are their greatest achievement. I’m sure that’s not what Siddhartha’s father was saying when not-yet Buddha slipped out of the family compound, abandoned his wife and infant son to their privilege, and hit the road to oblivion.
Peace, joy, love, abundance—these are realizations, not achievements. On the inner journey, effort is impedimental.
Forgiveness is sometimes cast as an achievement requiring the assistance of a priest or bartender. But forgiveness obviates effort. Indeed, if effort is required, it means you haven’t forgiven. You’re hauling a suitcase full of broken bricks. You set it down. Your body thanks you.
Success is not a permanency, a fixed condition. It’s more of an immanence, a moment-to-moment kind of deal. A man cannot become successful. He is either successful now or he is not successful.
What is done through me has a far vaster significance than what is done by me. In the second case, ego is involved. It pumps its tiny fist. It says, “I did it!”