Everyone seems to remember that Ecarus flew too close to the sun.
But not that his father also told him not to fly too low and let the sea dampen his wings.
We only ever tell half the story
The falling off
Because hubris makes better cautionary tale than mediocrity does.
Daedalus understood something that we don’t like to admit.
Both directions kill you.
The only safe altitude is the one that requires constant adjustment.
Someone called me obsessive recently. They corrected themselves almost immediately and said extreme, like it helped.
I have been thinking about it since because I couldn’t work out if it was a warning, or a compliment, or both.
Which is probably enough answer.
I’ve seen what it costs. When you grip something too tightly the thing you’re holding on to starts taking pieces of you with it.
And somewhere between telling other people’s stories, writing my own, and trying to be useful to both, I’ve stopped believing the answer is balance.
The real choice is simpler and far worse.
Be viciously mediocre with the time you have
Or absolutely and unashamedly get after it.
Fly low and drown quietly
Fly high and risk the fall
The difference between all in and all consumed is smaller than it looks from the ground.
One starves you, the other erodes you
The trick and the only trick is learning to feel the wax soften before the feathers go.
To know the difference between burning and being on fire.
To make sure it’s the work you’re devouring, and not yourself.
~ Oscar Foraday
“Because who am if don’t give my whole heart every time...
I know that sounds excessive in a moment where everyone is so protective of their time and space. But I don’t think any of our time is “free”.
And regret has weight, and surviving is already hard enough without carrying the weight.
