Icarus's journey of flying too close to the sun only to fall off and drown in the sea could also be interpreted as navigating the precarious line between aspiration and the risk of a catastrophic fall.
The standard interpretation is that of a cautionary tale about the perils of excessive pride and ambition.
Ambition is a peculiar emotion to have, as it borders around going against the natural order and beyond the prescribed limits.
Assuming you successfully crossed that border, one of the first sensations that welcome you is a dizzying rush of exhilaration tangled with dread.
There's this weird mix of "I can't believe I'm actually doing this" and "What if I'm making a huge mistake?"
Everyone around you thinks you're crazy, and honestly, part of you agrees with them.
My mind goes to that one friend who keeps asking "Are you sure about this?" with genuine concern in their voice.
I run the simulation in my head on what answering "yes" would entail versus flat out saying "no", which sounds more true but misses the underlying sensation that this is the most alive I've ever felt.
Saying "no" feels like betraying part of me that dared to dream in the first place. Neither answer quiets the doubt, but "yes" keeps the fire burning, even if it's just a flicker on some days.
Either way, doubt is ever present and arrives in small doses via mundane moments that make me question everything.
But there's also this voice inside saying "What if it actually works? What if this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing? What if I'm the one who can see what others can't?"
That voice is quieter than the doubt, but very stubborn. It's part of me that imagines standing on the other side of this gamble, looking back and saying, "I knew it was worth it!"
I'm responsible for my own success or failure, with no safety net to catch me and in a territory where no one can tell me if I'm doing it right. The one who has to decide what "right" even means is me.
I think the higher the risk of a catastrophic fall, i.e getting too close to the sun, which in this context means pursuing something so ambitious that failure would devastate not just your plans but your sense of self, the less aspiration can do to actually sustain you in terms of week by week motivation.
I figured that's where Icarus went wrong. Whatever told him to fly higher couldn't tell him when to stop.
Now, what's unknown is if I'm listening for that voice that knows when enough is enough or if I'm already too high to hear it.
The wings are still on my back. For now.
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