Sate

“The single thing which makes any man happiest is the realization that he has worked up to the limits of his ability, his capacity.  It’s all the better, of course, if this work has made a contribution to knowledge, or moving the human race a little farther forward.”  These are Neil Armstrong’s words, as quoted in Life magazine weeks prior to the Apollo 11 mission in July of 1969, upon being asked to describe what this unprecedented flight meant to him. He was 39 years old.

Perhaps Armstrong’s assessment of the monumental feat he was about to embark on explains what drives so many of us to reach for and achieve our dreams.  This is clearly a man who leveraged his strengths early, getting his pilot’s license before he could even drive a car, sandwiching a career as an exceptionally skilled and decorated aviator in the Korean War between his studies in aeronautical engineering.  It’s no wonder he was recognized as one of the few having “The Right Stuff” and recruited to be a part of NASA in its nascence. The rest, of course, is history.

But we’re not all phenoms like Neil Armstrong.  Many of us spend a significant amount of time finding ourselves.  Once we realize the direction we want to head in it can feel like we are woefully behind.  For me the need to “catch up” is sometimes as powerful and undeniable as the deafening ticking of a woman’s biological clock. 

Years ago when I was particularly frustrated in my job, feeling like I was blocked by a manager who not only held the job I coveted, but lacked the skills or leadership ability I believed I already possessed for the role, I went to a mentor to ask why I should stay at my company when this obviously incompetent person was clearly in my way.  At the time, I wasn’t seeing very far in front of me, blinders forcing my attention on a seemingly insurmountable wedge between me and the career growth I was desperately seeking. 

Through the course of this counseling session, I ended up answering my own question.  The reason I needed to stay was because I knew deep down that I wasn’t done yet.  I had so much more I wanted to achieve at this company, so much more to give. I hadn’t trusted that my abilities were visible to others and lacked the patience to let the situation play itself out.

Once my mentor heard me encapsulate my issue so succinctly, he challenged me to overtake my so-called foe. This was a foreign idea to me, as I never considered myself someone who could openly compete so aggressively for a role in the workplace. While it all sounded a little conniving, there never was any diabolical plot.  But I liked that this mentor was teeming with confidence in me and my power to unseat a weaker opponent. His faith in me kept me in the game.  I continued to work hard, letting my strengths shine through, and supported my manager as best I could.  In the end, poor results and an unhappy customer spoke volumes:  The job eventually became mine. 

That period of time was one of the most difficult in my career. The situation got worse before it got better; culminating in the worst performance review I’d even endured.  Had I not believed in my heart that I had more to achieve in that organization, I’m certain I would have given up.  My perseverance came from inside, my belief that I belonged in a seat at the leadership table, that I have what constitutes “The Right Stuff” to walk on my own personal moon.

I think we are all in charge of setting our limits and defining when we’ve reached full capacity.  Happiness comes in when we are satisfied that our achievements align with our abilities.

When I read Neil Armstrong’s obituary in the Sunday paper, I wondered if he died fulfilled, content that he was in fact done. How could he not feel like his contributions helped move the human race forward?  But what if we believe our possibilities are limitless?  Does that mean that we’re never done?  I hope so.  Because being done might feel a little bit like waiting to die.

For me, my drive to ascend as far as my talents will take me centers on my desire to contribute in some way to inclusiveness for women in a male-dominated workplace.  If my gifts can take me to a place where my voice can be heard, I’ll consider it my one small step for woman, one giant leap for womankind.