Risk

I was chatting to a new colleague yesterday about his son’s career options.

The son is at a top-end private school and is looking at entering the finance sector, which he will be able to do in a snitch because of his classmates’ father’s networks.

I observed that this would probably offer a lucrative and safe career but this path runs the risk of his son getting to, say 50 years of age, and wondering what he in fact did with his life.

This seemed to strike a chord with my colleague.

He asked me if I felt like I had wasted my working career to date.

I said ‘no’ but for the life of me I couldn’t put into words why this is the case.

It’s an odd one; in principle there is nothing better or worse than this option or that option in life, so why did I say this and why did my colleague react like he did?

I don’t think it is necessarily about altruism – some people that I know that wear this on their sleeves are out and out unhappy folks, so the answer isn’t necessarily there.

This is why I write; until I feel for words on a plastic actuating array, and see them in a polarizing filter display, I often don’t get my thoughts sorted. And I just got it; it’s all about risk.

There has to be enough genuine risk in your life to make you feel alive. No risk, and the rot of disenchantment sets in, slowly white-anting your soul.

Sometimes I have felt like I have taken on too much risk (in work and in other ways) and it can overwhelm a soul when this happens.

However risk is like alcohol. You can slowly build up your tolerance to alcohol by indulging. So too you can also build up the your body and soul’s tolerance to risk.