How do you define success in life?

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A few days ago, I found myself wandering through the quiet aisles of an antique shop. I was browsing through the usual treasures, restored wooden furniture, brass trinkets, weathered trays, and painted ceramics, when I noticed something unusual. In the corner where pottery is usually stacked, almost every shelf was filled with clay owls. Small ones, wide-eyed ones, glazed earthenware, and hand-carved statues. A whole sea of owls staring back at me.

Over the past two years, I have seen owls everywhere, in art shops, in nature, and in random everyday encounters. Every single time, my heart gently pulls me back to my grandfather, who passed away two years ago after a long battle with cancer. Even in his final days, when his body was frail and exhausted, his stubborn, gentle spirit remained intact. I watched him sit with his favorite fountain pen, persistently scribbling his thoughts onto paper until his very last breath.

Seeing those owl potteries in the antique shop brought me right back to him, because in our hometown, my grandfather was affectionately known for his owl clay bells.

Leaving Security to Follow a Calling

Earlier in his life, my grandfather had a stable, respectable job at the local city hall. It provided a steady income, security, and the kind of predictable future society teaches us to chase. But at a certain point, he made a choice that most people would consider reckless: he left his civil service job behind to pursue poetry, publish books, and craft owl clay bells.

Growing up, I witnessed the daily reality of that choice. He lived in a modest home, about 800 square feet, and my grandfather transformed every inch of it into a living studio. He converted the small balcony into his poetry-writing den. The tiny kitchen table where we ate our daily meals was constantly piled high with old master copies, heavy typing paper, and his massive, clunky computer. Another corner of the house served as his workshop, complete with a clay kiln and raw earth.

Whenever I visit him, I would watch him type away at his manuscripts. In the afternoons, he would walk out into nature to gather fresh leaves, using their vein patterns to press intricate textures into his clay bells. Most of the time, though, he sat surrounded by reference photos of wild owls from all over the world, carefully shaping their likeness into small, hollow bells that rang with a soft, earthy tone.

The Noise of Criticism vs. The Quiet Joy of Resonance

Now I think about it, choosing that path must have been difficult. I remember times when relatives and acquaintances openly criticized his decision. They questioned why he gave up a reliable salary for a life of modest art, frequently pointing out that sculpting clay and writing poetry didn’t bring in much money.

It is completely natural for us to hesitate when faced with sacrifice. Seeking safety, social approval, and financial security is a fundamental human instinct, so worrying about standing out or stepping off the beaten track makes total sense. But my grandfather pushed past that instinct. External status and prestige simply didn’t interest him; he was entirely consumed by doing what he loved with pure, honest intention.

And while he never sought fame or riches, I saw how deeply his work resonated with those who truly saw him. Local poets and writers cherished his words. Neighbors treasured his handmade clay bells, the local vegetable deliverer, the town handyman who helped repair household gadgets, people who didn’t care about status, but recognized the beauty of his soul and the magic of his craft.

He didn’t need thousands of followers or commercial success; he had a community that felt the warmth of his world.

Redefining Success Through My Own Lens

In the world we live in, we are constantly taught to measure success through external markers, the numbers in our bank accounts, job titles, or how many people know our names. For a long time, I realized how easily I could get trapped in a “when-then” mindset: believing that when I hit a certain target or receive enough approval, then I will finally feel worthy, peaceful, or complete.

Through watching my grandfather, I came to believe that true fulfillment can never be found at the finish line of external rewards. When we live solely for applause or status, our inner joy slowly drains away. Real success, to me, is entirely about shifting our focus from the outcome to the process itself.

I believe that living authentically means tapping into pure, intrinsic passion, doing something simply because it brings meaning, peace, and alignment to your soul, regardless of whether the world gives you a standing ovation for it. It is my quiet practice of bringing a whole heart to whatever I am creating in this exact second, completely free from the need for outside validation.

My grandfather instinctively lived this truth. Hanging on the wall of his tiny writing studio was a framed piece of poem gifted to him by a dear friend:

“There is no path to success. The footprints you leave while walking and enjoying yourself—that is what becomes the path.”

He lived those words every single day, carrying a notepad and favorite fountain pen everywhere to scribble down observations of nature, his thoughts, ideas, and the subtle beauty of human emotion. He didn’t measure his days by his financial output or public reputation. I realized that for him, and now for me, life isn’t something to be postponed for a future goal; this present moment right here is all we truly have. He measured his life by how genuinely present he remained with his passion.

His Final Lesson

Before he passed away, using the same trusty fountain pen he had held for decades, my grandfather wrote down his final words to me:

“Be grateful with your life.”

Growing up, he was the closest person to my heart, my gentlest guide, and the mirror that showed me what a life lived from the soul truly looks like. Even now, two years after he laid down his favorite pen for the last time, his presence remains an unshakeable, steady warmth resting gently in my chest.

Whenever an owl crosses my path through a silent shadow gliding through the trees, a faint motif painted on a jar, or a row of wide-eyed earthenware resting on a shop shelf, my breath catches. In those quiet seconds, time seems to soften for me. These encounters have become my personal sanctuary, gentle reminders calling me back home to myself. They invite me to take a slow, deep breath, release the heavy noise of the world, and realign with what I know truly matters: presence, devotion, and love.

A Thought to Carry Forward

We are often taught that success is something we must chase, conquer, or build, a towering mountain top we must force ourselves to climb, or a glittering reputation we leave behind for others to measure. But watching my grandfather live and pass with a peaceful heart showed me an entirely different truth.

Success is not a trophy waiting for us at the end of a race, nor is it found in how much we acquire or how many people applaud our name.

I believe that success lives in the soft, courage-filled space where our daily actions meet our soul. It is the quiet joy of pouring our heart and energy into what we love, the warmth shared with the people around us, and the grace embodied while walking our own unrepeatable path.