In my twenties, I knew someone who told me that we should not settle for an ordinary life. So many people live ordinary lives, he said, and we should strive for something extraordinary. At that time, I never asked him what an extraordinary life meant. Looking back now, I feel there is perhaps nothing more spectacular than an ordinary life.
I am not sure if it is age that makes us see things differently. Maybe we come to terms with our limitations. Or perhaps we recognize those limitations while we still have time to change course. I don’t know. But I have started questioning this constant pursuit of being extraordinary.
Today, I think leading an ordinary life is an art because we live in an extremely performative society. Both professionally and personally, being performative has become almost a necessity. But performance and being performative are not the same thing. One is about results, and the other is about creating the impression of results. One creates value, while the other creates visibility. And visibility is often easier to recognize than value.
This makes me wonder whether our organizations can distinguish genuine performance from performative behavior. Some organizations can, and some cannot. Some leaders see the difference, and others don’t. Sometimes the people doing the most meaningful work are also the least interested in making noise about it.
I have started thinking that being ordinary is a way of life, while being extraordinary is often a pursuit. Not everyone wants to spend their lives pursuing something society considers extraordinary. There is nothing wrong with ambition, but there should also be nothing wrong with choosing a life that does not need constant validation.
And then there is happiness, which is an entirely different conversation. I don’t think anyone can remain constantly happy. Perhaps the question is not whether we are happy, but whether we recognize those moments when we are happy.
I have come to feel that happiness has very little to do with whether our lives are ordinary or extraordinary. Perhaps in our constant pursuit of an extraordinary life, we forget to appreciate the ordinary moments that make us happy. And when being extraordinary becomes something we need to demonstrate to others, even happiness can become something we feel compelled to project rather than experience.
But the million-dollar question remains. What exactly is an extraordinary life? Who defines it? Is it something we discover within ourselves, or a judgment imposed by a society that values only certain kinds of achievements?
Maybe we are all ordinary in more ways than we would like to admit. And maybe extraordinary is a construct of a world that celebrates visibility, wealth, status and recognition while overlooking so much else that makes a life meaningful.
Perhaps the real art is not in becoming extraordinary, but in learning to appreciate the ordinary life we already have.
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