HUFFINGTON
02.23.14
THRIVE
boundaries of what our culture
defined as success was hardly a
straight line. At times it was more
like a spiral, with a lot of downturns when I found myself caught
up in the very whirlwind that I
knew would not lead to the life I
most wanted.
That’s how strong is the pull
of the first two metrics, even for
throne not by fortune of birth
but by the visible markers of success, we dream of the means by
which we might be crowned. Or
perhaps it’s the constant expectation, drummed into us from childhood, that no matter how humble
our origins we, too, can achieve
the American dream. And the
American dream, which has been
The space, the gaps, the pauses,
the silence—those things that allow us to regenerate
and recharge—had all but disappeared
in my own life and in the lives of so many I knew.
someone as blessed as I was to have
a mother who lived a Third Metric
life before I knew what the Third
Metric was. That’s why this book is
a kind of a homecoming for me.
When I first lived in New York
in the eighties, I found myself at
lunches and dinners with people
who had achieved the first two
metrics of success—money and
power—but who were still looking for something more. Lacking
a line of royalty in America, we
have elevated to princely realms
the biggest champions of money
and power. Since one gains today’s
exported all over the world, is currently defined as the acquisition
of things: houses, cars, boats, jets,
and other grown-up toys.
But I believe the second decade
of this new century is already very
different. There are, of course, still
millions of people who equate success with money and power—who
are determined to never get off that
treadmill despite the cost in terms
of their well-being, relationships,
and happiness. There are still millions desperately looking for the
next promotion, the next milliondollar payday that they believe will
satisfy their longing to feel better
about themselves, or silence their
dissatisfaction. But both in the