John Stuart Mill, the philosopher and boy genius who before he
hit puberty read and mastered nearly every major classical text in the
original Greek or Latin, is an illustration of just how terrifying this
process can be. Extremely driven (by his father and by himself), one
day, at around twenty years old, Mill stopped to think, for the first
time, about what he was chasing. As he writes:
It occurred to me to put the question directly to myself,
“Suppose that all your objects in life were realized; that all
the changes in institutions and opinions which you are
looking forward to, could be completely effected at this
very instant: would this be a great joy and happiness to
you?” And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly
answered, “No!” At this my heart sank within me: the
whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell
down.What ensued was a devastating mental breakdown that required
years of recovery. Yet Mill was probably lucky to undergo it so early.
Most people never learn that their accomplishments will ultimately
fail to provide the relief and happiness we tell ourselves they will. Or
they come to understand this only after so much time and money, so
many relationships and moments of inner peace, were sacrificed on
the altar of achievement. We get to the finish line only to think: This
is it? Now what?
It is a painful crossroads. Or worse, one that we ignore, stuffing
those feelings of existential crisis down, piling on top of them
meaningless consumption, more ambition, and the delusion that
doing more and more of the same will eventually bring about
different results.
In a way, this is a curse of one of our virtues. No one achieves
excellence or enlightenment without a desire to get better, without a
tendency to explore potential areas of improvement. Yet the desire—
or the need—for more is often at odds with happiness. Billie Jean
King, the tennis great, has spoken about this, about how the
mentality that gets an athlete to the top so often prevents them from