Winning a Nobel Prize is great. Fame has its benefits. But the true masters escaped the adapted self and were driven by something deeper than trophies or money. They wrote because they had to write. They composed because they had to compose. They were compelled by a feeling they neither understood nor could explain but which they knew was deeply right.
When Phil Ivey won the World Series of Poker, he could have easily taken the huge prize money and celebrated with friends into the night. Instead, he went to his hotel room and reviewed every hand with peers to see where he could improve. When psychologist Daniel Kahneman won the Nobel Prize in economics, he could have basked in the unusual glory of winning a prize outside his own field. Instead, Kahneman invited colleagues to disprove his theories. When Magnus Carlsen played Levon Aronian in the final round of the 2013 Sinquefield Cup, an elite chess tournament, he could have guaranteed tournament victory by agreeing to the draw offer. Instead, at the risk of losing, Carlsen chose to keep playing and ultimately prevailed to win the game.
Ivey, Kahneman, and Carlsen all embraced the mystery rather than the manifestation. Meaning, they were fascinated with the elegance of their craft, not the prizes of their pursuits. The mark of a champion is a humble spirit funneling intensity into the art, into the creation, into getting it right for the sake of getting it right and nothing more. If there is a prize, so be it, but it is never the focus. Meanwhile, the pretender obsesses over the prize, and in doing so, never becomes a champion.
The true masters remain unsatisfied with their results, not because they are ungrateful, but because their devotion to the craft leaves no room for complacency. Until you fall in love with the process, no amount of fame, money, or applause will bring you lasting fulfillment. Recognition without mastery feels hollow.
Are you looking to become a chef so that you can become a famous celebrity? Or do you love cooking and seeing the joy you bring to people when they love your food? Do you want to build a business to gain power and make money, or do you love the challenge of working with a team to solve problems and create something greater than yourself? Do you want to become a scientist to win a Nobel Prize, or like Feynman, do you love the process of discovery?
Extraordinary success rarely comes from merely setting extraordinary goals. Instead, it emerges unexpectedly from acts that bring you extraordinary joy.
This article is an excerpt from Chapter 6 of Choose Your Work
Dan Dobos writes about decision making, personal growth, human potential, fulfillment and helping people choose the work that they are meant to do. He is the author of Choose Your Work.