A New Definition of Success

I wasn’t about to give those students a lecture on altruism, activism, or any other -ism; I wasn’t there to convince them they should commit their lives to others. I had a more radical notion to share with them, a new definition of success.

I wanted them to understand that success isn’t a destination. It’s not something you pursue like a racetrack greyhound chasing a mechanical rabbit. Success is something you assemble from components you discover in your soul and your imagination. Authentic success, the kind of success that will enrich your life and enlarge your spirit, the only kind of success that matters, comes from knowing and trusting the deepest aspirations of your heart. If you try to live that way, in harmony with the real needs of your spirit, then you can’t help but craft a life that will automatically make the world a better place for everyone who lives in it, and, incidentally, you will dramatically increase your chances for success on all levels. That’s the insight I most wanted those Harvard kids to hear, but I knew mere words wouldn’t carry enough weight—they didn’t know me well enough.

So I asked Jim Heskett to turn down the lights and I started to show my slides.

“Here is the place I built,” I said as an image of the Manchester Bidwell Center flashed onto the screen. I could tell it wasn’t what they expected. The image was an exterior shot, taken at night, of a sleek and striking contemporary structure. Low-slung, inviting, and subtle, the center has walls of adobe-colored block. Golden light glowed in the tall picture windows and rooftop canopies; a floodlit fountain sat at the center of a courtyard.

“This building was created by the same architect who designed the Pittsburgh International Airport,” I explained. “He was a student of Frank Lloyd Wright—a hero of mine—and I think he captured some of the magic of the master’s touch. As a kid I’d spend hours looking at these kinds of buildings in books and architecture magazines. I wanted our kids to feel they deserved to study in such a building, and now I go to work in one every day.”

The next slide took them inside the center. The soaring lobby, done in more of the earth-toned block, was flooded with light from banks of tall windows. Accents of natural wood brightened the space, and intimately arched alcoves led the way to quiet halls. I pointed out the small touches—the rich carpets, the designer tile, the handmade stained-glass inserts in the office doors, the bouquets of fresh flowers.

“This place is my idea of a perfect human shelter,” I said. “It generates order and serenity and stability and optimism, things many of our students do not enjoy in abundance in their private lives. Poor people live in a world where beauty seems impossible. We make it possible. Then the world and eventually the future look very different to them.”