Recently, I caught up with a friend who is approaching that magical age of 50. Somewhere around this age, give or take 5-10 years, so many of us go through that phase we’ve unfortunately labeled a “midlife crisis.” I much prefer to think of this phase as a midlife awakening.
The conversation went as these conversations often go. He’s had a very successful career. He’s quite good at what he does. He has so much to be proud of, and as one of his mentors, I am immensely proud of him. And then, he said those magic words.
“I just feel like there must be something more…”
We agreed to connect regularly to unpack this. But I can’t help but wonder if the something more is actually something less.
The Golden Buddha
I am reminded of one of my favorite stories. I thought perhaps it was only a legend, but I’m delighted to discover it’s a true story. The story of the Golden Buddha.
The statue was built in Thailand several hundred years ago. Weighing over 5 tons, it is the world’s largest solid gold sculpture, and, given the value of gold, the most valuable religious object in the world.
In the 1700s, anticipating invasion, the statue was completely covered in plaster to disguise it. In 1767, Burmese invaders destroyed the city, but the statue was ignored. It remained this way for nearly two hundred years. Everyone mistook it for a simple plaster statue.
In 1955, the statue was moved to a new location. During the move, it was dropped, and a piece of plaster chipped off, revealing gold underneath. I can only imagine the surprise as the plaster was carefully removed, revealing the solid-gold sculpture beneath.
For two hundred years, no one knew they had the most valuable sculpture on earth in their temple, because it was caked in layers of plaster.
Our Golden Buddha
I believe many of our lives mirror the story of this golden Buddha statue. It certainly mirrors the experience I see in the Western world.
We are born into this world as innocent children. We are curious. Creative. Brimming with imagination. Anything is possible. Ask a child what they want to be when they grow up, and brace yourself for the most outlandish answers, delivered with complete sincerity. An astronaut. A superhero. A fire-breathing dragon.
Ask an adult what they want to be when they grow up, and you’ll get practical answers, grounded in what is possible. Transforming into a fire-breathing dragon rarely makes the list.
This is a by-product of the world we live in. As the child gets older, they get told what isn’t possible. That they shouldn’t play with their imaginary friends, because those imaginary friends are not real. That superheroes don’t exist, and an astronaut is not a realistic profession.
Over the years, whether deliberately or unconsciously, we cake layers of plaster on our children, shaping them into what society believes will best position them for success.
Along the way, many of us adopt a core limiting belief – “I am not good enough.” This belief can serve us well, as it fuels our ambition to always strive for something more. To constantly be learning and growing. If used carefully, it can drive an incredibly successful career. But it usually comes at a price.
In his book From Strength to Strength, Arthur C. Brooks calls that price Striver’s Syndrome. It’s the relentless pursuit of achievement that once drove our success — now turned against us, leaving us anxious, restless, and never quite satisfied, no matter what we accomplish.
Many of us spend the first half of our lives striving. Always wanting to do more, to be more, to achieve more. I know I lived this life. And I achieved a great deal. But I also found myself exhausted.
Somewhere around age 50, something shifts. The Striver’s Syndrome begins to burn out. And we begin to ask ourselves, “Isn’t there something more to all this?”
Something Less
In my experience, those years of striving cake layer after layer of plaster onto our souls. The steep price we pay for our Western ambition is the concealment of the gold that lies beneath.
As we become aware of our Striver’s Syndrome, the irony is that we often look for something more. This is our Striver at work. We want to get off the bus of striving on the professional path we’ve been on, but striving is so deeply ingrained in our bones that we can’t help but look for another way to strive. We’ve become hard-wired to seek more.
I offer an alternative. The antidote for Striver’s Syndrome is not to strive in some other direction. I suggest we instead seek to unwind the striving.
Beneath all those layers of plaster we’ve caked on over the years lies a brilliant, beautiful human who was born into this world with all the brilliance of a golden Buddha. If we continue to seek something more, we’ll cake on more layers of plaster, further concealing the inherently whole human that lies beneath.
Instead, let us chip away at this plaster. Engage your curiosity to discover every story you tell yourself that simply isn’t true. Stories like:
- I am not good enough.
- I have to be better than <whomever you compare yourself to>.
- I must be productive at all times.
- I must have all the answers.
- I am responsible for everyone’s happiness.
How do we remove the plaster? It’s not a quick fix. You’ve likely spent decades caking it on. It will come off faster than that, but certainly not overnight. A coach, therapist, or thought partner can accelerate the process, but I can offer a few self-guided strategies.
First, drag your core limiting belief into the bright, shining sun of awareness. Simply recognizing the belief and its impact on you can be a powerful first step. For most of us, these beliefs have lived rent-free in our minds for years, and we’ve treated them as fact rather than recognizing they are only stories we tell ourselves. Once we become aware of this, we move from being a subject of that belief to seeing the belief as an object. From that moment forward, every time the belief surfaces, pause, acknowledge it, honour it, and permit yourself to release it. Over time, the plaster will fall away.
The second strategy is one I am increasingly bringing into my coaching conversations. Meditative inquiry. Take 10-15 minutes to sit and meditate on the limiting belief. Close your eyes. Do some deep breathing to center yourself. Ask your thinking mind to step aside and turn your attention to your heart and the center of your chest. Place the limiting belief into your awareness, then allow your mind to let go of it. Then ask yourself, “What is my deepest knowing?” Sit with the question and see what arises. Continue to ask yourself this question every minute or two. You will likely be surprised by what comes up. I recommend journaling at the end of your inquiry to capture whatever arises. This, in turn, will fuel your awareness.
Putting It Into Practice
Chipping away at your plaster isn’t a one-time event. It’s a practice:
- Name your plaster. Write down the core limiting belief that has most shaped your striving. Not as confession, but as curiosity — what story have you been treating as fact?
- Drag it into the light. Once named, notice every time it surfaces. Pause. Acknowledge it. Honour the role it played in getting you here — then consciously choose whether to carry it forward.
- Try meditative inquiry. Set aside 10-15 minutes, settle into stillness, and place the belief gently in your awareness. Ask yourself: “What is my deepest knowing?” Journal what arises.
- Audit your “more.” When you feel the pull toward the next achievement, pause and ask: “Am I adding something meaningful, or layering on more plaster?”
- Get a thought partner. A coach, therapist, or trusted peer can see the gold you’ve forgotten is there — and reflect it back to you when you can’t see it yourself.
Tales of Wanderment
I have two months left in Santa Fe, and I’m slowly beginning to purge, as I did 18 months ago when I left Virginia. It’s interesting to go through this process again and see what has changed. I guess it’s a new anchor point for me. Last time I donated bags and bags of clothes, but still held onto more than I needed. Then there are the sentimental items. Pieces of my history that I held onto because they shape my identity. Only now do I realize they merely shaped my past identity. This time around, I’m letting go of a lot more.
I can’t speak for everyone. Your mileage may vary. But for me, there is something more in owning less.
I am an executive coach and consciousness coach with software executive roots in higher education and EdTech. I coach because I love helping others accelerate their growth as leaders and humans. I frequently write about #management, #leadership, #coaching, #neuroscience, and #arete.
If you would like to learn more, schedule time with me.