A while ago, I had a conversation with a colleague from the yoga world. We were discussing a well-known yoga teacher with a large social media following, a successful YouTube channel, and several lucrative studios. “That’s what I call a successful yogi”, my friend said.

Having just returned from several years of living in India, this statement felt strange to me. My definition of a successful yogi was completely different. To me, it meant someone who had cultivated inner mastery, had let go of attachments to externals such as money, fame or status, and who lived in connection with the Divine. This was one of those moments when I realised how widely people’s definitions of success can vary.

Looking back, I can see this playing out in my own life, too. Goals change. Values change. In my twenties, my life looked like an archetypal success story: a thriving international career, recognition, my own home, financial stability, a nice car, and a loving partner. By my late twenties, I underwent a drastic life change, because these things no longer fulfilled me. I was yearning for something deeper.

So my definition of success shifted. It became about pursuing a meaningful academic path and, later, about allowing my creativity and spirituality to unfold. Then it was travel, exploring the world in complete freedom. Later still, enlightenment became the ultimate goal, and I directed all my energy towards “achieving” it.

Until, through sustained spiritual practice, none of it made sense anymore. As the false self, conditioning, and defences began to fall away, so did striving and ambition.

And life suddenly became very simple. Having had so many different experiences and fulfilled so many of my dreams, it was no longer about becoming or proving anything to anyone, not even to myself. I became more interested in being, in living life moment by moment, with presence and connection. Not chasing any special goals, but simply allowing life to unfold organically.

Perhaps it helps when desires and ambitions are fulfilled early in life. I was fortunate in that I was already professionally, financially, and relationally successful in my twenties, without even consciously trying. By the time I was twenty-seven, I was saturated and had come to know the cost of that kind of success: time, freedom, and relationships. I felt trapped.

And these things – time, freedom, and relationships – are what I value most now. Time to live a life of deep listening, growth, creativity, presence and connection, even if it means having fewer financial resources. The freedom to do what feels aligned with my calling, and to be there when a friend or family member needs me.

Something I have become increasingly interested in is who we are, or could be, when we exist without performance. Who we are when none of the currencies so highly valued in society hold weight any longer: Productivity. Beauty. Strength. Usefulness. Being needed. Being interesting. If I am not exceptional, what’s still there?

It often appears to me that much of what we call external success consists of shields that protect an old fear: If I stop performing, I am unlovable. But what does “unlovable” even mean? Unlovable by whom? If the love of others is based on performance and outer success, is it love at all? I feel that a beautiful vision is to be loved not for our usefulness, brilliance, depth, or resilience, but simply because we exist.

This naturally raises a few question worth reflecting on.

What does a successful life look like to me? How do I really want to live? What are my values and my real needs underneath expectations, duty, pressures, and commitments that may no longer fulfil me? How can I introduce more of what really nourishes me into my life?

And for that, we need to be still for long enough to listen to the answers. Not the performative ones. Not the practical ones. Not the logical ones. But to the quiet voice that tells us what we really need to be happy and fulfilled, and that we so often push away with busyness, performance and productivity.

We might find that what we really need is not spectacular or impressive, but very simple. Or, on the contrary, it might be complex and difficult, and that is valid, too. The important thing is that we are doing it for the right reasons, and that it’s aligned with who we really are.

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You might also enjoy my recent article “Is your Current Life a Trauma Response?“