On perseverance, purpose, and the occasional buzzing fly

There comes a point in life when you realize that not everyone is going to celebrate your accomplishments.

Some will admire what you’ve built. Others will question it. A few may resent it. And occasionally, someone will devote an extraordinary amount of energy to trying to diminish something they had no hand in creating.

I’ve learned something rather liberating about all of this.

I don’t have to participate.

I’ve spent much of my life building things. Not just businesses or websites, publications or breeding programs, but ideas. Communities. Educational resources. Opportunities for others to learn, participate, and perhaps discover something meaningful for themselves.

Some projects have succeeded beyond anything I imagined. Others have required rebuilding from the ground up. There have been disappointments, mistakes, unexpected detours, and moments when walking away might have seemed easier.

But I’ve never been particularly good at giving up.

I am a creator by nature. Give me an empty page, an impossible problem, a neglected opportunity, or a vision that hasn’t yet found its footing, and my instinct is to begin.

To research. To design. To organize. To improve. To build.

And when something falls apart?

Well, sometimes you build it again.

Not because the work is easy, but because the work matters.

The Curious Business of Other People’s Opinions

One of the more interesting discoveries that comes with age is how little control we have over the stories other people tell about us.

We can be generous and be called calculating. We can be determined and be called difficult. We can establish boundaries and be accused of being unkind. We can accomplish something worthwhile and discover that someone, somewhere, is offended by the accomplishment itself.

Sometimes criticism is deserved. I’ve made mistakes, changed my mind, apologized when I was wrong, and learned lessons I would rather not have needed.

I believe accountability matters. Including my own.

But there is a difference between constructive criticism and the persistent noise of people who seem more interested in diminishing others than contributing something themselves.

And that brings me to the flies.

A Few Words About Flies

Imagine sitting outside on a beautiful afternoon. The sun is shining. The garden is growing. There’s work to be done, plans to make, and a whole world of interesting possibilities ahead.

And somewhere nearby, a fly is buzzing.

You can spend the afternoon swatting at it. You can abandon your chair, your book, your conversation, and your peace in an effort to silence it.

Or you can recognize it for what it is.

A fly.

An annoyance, certainly. Occasionally persistent. But hardly deserving of control over your afternoon.

I’ve come to think of certain kinds of negativity in much the same way.

Not every disturbance deserves a response. Not every accusation deserves an audience. And not every person who wants your attention deserves to receive it.

The buzzing may continue. That’s not something I can control.

What I can control is whether I stop living my life to listen.

What Endures

I look at the years behind me and see far more than the difficult chapters.

I see dogs I’ve loved, generations I’ve studied, friendships I’ve treasured, and knowledge I’ve worked hard to preserve and share.

I see publications that began as ideas and became resources for people around the world. Educational projects, creative ventures, and work that will hopefully remain useful long after I’ve stepped away from the keyboard.

I see the satisfaction of solving problems that once seemed overwhelming.

I see the pleasure of making something beautiful simply because I imagined it could exist.

And I see a future that still holds more ideas than I could possibly complete in one lifetime.

That’s a rather wonderful problem to have.

None of those things becomes less meaningful because someone disapproves of me.

The work exists. The effort was real. The lessons were earned.

And there is still so much more I want to do.

Perseverance Is Not the Same as Fighting

For a long time, I thought perseverance meant standing my ground in every disagreement, correcting every misconception, and making certain the truth was understood.

Sometimes that is necessary. There are moments when speaking up, protecting others, or correcting the record is the responsible thing to do.

But I’ve also learned that perseverance can be quieter than that.

Sometimes it means continuing to create when someone would prefer you stop.

Continuing to contribute when your efforts are questioned.

Continuing to pursue a goal without waiting for universal approval.

And, perhaps most importantly, continuing to enjoy your life without allowing someone else’s hostility to become its defining feature.

I don’t measure my strength by how long I can remain in a fight. I measure it by how much of my purpose I can preserve beyond it.

That distinction has become increasingly important to me.

I have no desire to spend the years ahead rehearsing old grievances or explaining myself to people who have already decided what they want to believe.

I’d rather plant something. Write something. Design something. Teach something. Improve something.

I’d rather spend time with my dogs.

I’d rather build the next thing.

Still Becoming

I am proud of what I’ve accomplished.

That isn’t arrogance. It is an acknowledgment of years of work, sacrifices, persistence, and a willingness to attempt things without knowing whether they would succeed.

I am also aware of how much I still have to learn.

Both things can be true.

I can celebrate my achievements without pretending I’ve never failed. I can recognize my mistakes without allowing them to define me. I can acknowledge that some relationships have ended painfully without allowing those endings to erase everything good that came before—or everything good still waiting ahead.

Perhaps one of the greatest freedoms we earn with age is the ability to stop auditioning for other people’s approval.

To know who we are.

To remain open to growth.

To take responsibility for our own conduct.

And to carry on.

There will always be opinions. There may always be critics. There will almost certainly always be a fly or two.

Let them buzz.

I’ve got things to build.

Purpose. Perseverance. Perspective.

Always toward the light.