Ambition: Lessons from a Fisherman

Why do we do what we do? Why do some of us work ourselves to the bone, giving up the things in life that we find most meaningful? And is it worth it?

Here’s a story that helps put things in perspective:

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. There was a fisherman in the boat. He had caught a dozen yellow-fin tuna. An American tourist walked to the boat and complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish. The tourist asked how long it took him to catch them.

“Not very long,” answered the fisherman.

“But then, why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the tourist.

The fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The tourist asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, play the guitar, cook dinner with my wife, sip some wine, watch the sun go down and sing a few songs…I have a full life.”

The tourist interrupted, “I have an MBA from Wharton and I can help you!

“You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat. With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet.

“Instead of selling your fish to a middleman, you can negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, then to Los Angeles or even New York! From there you can direct your huge enterprise.”

“How long would that take?” asked the Mexican.

“Fifteen, perhaps twenty years,” replied the American.

“And after that?”

“Afterwards? That’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the American, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!”

“Millions? Really? And after that?”

“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, fish a little, play with your grandchildren, visit your friends, play the guitar, take siestas, sip wine with your wife, and sing songs in the evenings.”

I actually grew up on an island. Sometimes I dream of going back and living a simple life. I was so happy there …

Entering the unknown

In 1908, a young woman in London wrote a poem about going into the unknown:

“And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’  And he replied:  ’Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.’”

Most people are horrified about entering the unknown.  We want stability, predictability, and the ability to control our lives.  Often, it is this fear of going into the unknown that keeps us from following our dreams, doing what’s right, or doing what we desire most.

This blog is largely about having the courage to enter the unknown, and having faith that God is with us every step of the way.  In the end, things may not turn out as rosy as the poem implies.  We may suffer the consequences of doing what’s right (like so many who have suffered precisely because they had the courage to live their convictions).  But the bottom line is that the alternative — a spiritual death — is worse.

Welcome to the Wholeness Project.