The old man always kept a small, tarnished silver coin tucked into the corner of his worn leather wallet.
It wasn't particularly valuable, not in terms of what it could buy anyway.
But every time his fingers brushed against its smooth, cool surface, he remembered the words his father had spoken decades ago.
"This coin," his father had said, holding it up so the afternoon sun glinted off its dull face, "is for the day you forget why you're working. A necessary reminder that the push doesn't always come from inside. Sometimes, the world needs to give you a reason to keep going."
For years, the old man had scoffed. He did pride himself on his inner drive and unwavering discipline, viewing himself as a self-made titan of industry forged by sheer willpower.
He'd never needed a coin, or a cheer, or a threat to propel him forward. His motivation, he was certain, was a perpetual spring, bubbling up from an inexhaustible well within.
But as the decades did wore on, and the spring occasionally felt more like a trickle, he found himself reaching for that coin more often than he cared to admit.
It was a silent acknowledgment that no matter how self-sufficient we believe ourselves to be, we are all, at times, moved by forces beyond our own making.
°-°__°-°
What happens when the voice driving your protagonist forward isn't coming from within their heart, but from the expectations weighing on their shoulders?
I think there's a stark difference between a character who wants to become a doctor because they're passionate about healing, versus one who pursues medicine because three generations of family physicians are watching.
The difference itself is the "emotional weight" of their journey.
One carries the inner fire of personal desire, and the other, the ghost of family disappointment.
Family legacy and bloodline expectations are arguably some of the most insidious forms of external motivation.
They operate like a gravitational force (that's pulling you towards a certain direction) but rarely acknowledged until you try to move against it.
Lately, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to conform to this silent demand for continuity that feels more suffocating than comforting.
You're not just living for yourself anymore (not that I've ever truly acknowledged living for myself); you're living to uphold a name, a tradition, a perceived destiny.
And the approval you seek isn't for your achievements but for your conformity in following the script laid out for you.
On an adjacent angle, we have cultural and social pressures that whisper through community gatherings and social media feeds alike.
They're the unspoken rules about what success looks like, who you should marry, how you should parent, what dreams are "realistic" for someone like you, etc.
These forces aren't always overt commands, fortunately.
Unfortunately, they tend to operate through suggestion which makes them all the more powerful because they feel like our own thoughts.
Deviate from the path, unknowingly or intentionally, and you risk the subtle questioning glances or outright ostracization that seems like a profound loss in the heat of the moment.
In my view, economic necessity could be the most honest form of external motivation.
Because survival doesn't pretend to care about your dreams, and its demands are universally understood.
It presents a straightforward choice: Earn or suffer real-time consequences.
Money talks, and sometimes it drowns out everything else.
These external motivators, whether they be the pull of legacy, the whisper of social norms, or the blunt force of economic need, are the unseen hands that shape our trajectories more than we care to admit.
They possess an aspect of moral neutrality, even when we don't find the experience itself desirable. Since external motivation implies not being fully in control of our own direction.
External motivators aren't inherently good or bad; they are simply forces. The only danger that's obvious to me is being unaware of their influence.
When we confuse external pressures with internal drive, the risk is building lives that look successful from the outside, but feel hollow within.
Dare I say that a healthy dose of internal drive is needed to live a balanced life?
From a seemingly objective perspective, a life lived solely for the approval of others, or in fear of consequences, may achieve much, but I'm not sure whether it'll leave you wondering, like the old man, if the reason you kept going was ever truly your own.
At some point, the question of authentic ownership just becomes unavoidable.
Whose dreams are we actually chasing, and what happens when we finally catch them?
Thanks for reading!! Share your thoughts below on the comments.
