The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive. The
The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive. The great opportunity is where you are.
"The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive. The great opportunity is where you are." Thus taught John Burroughs, the naturalist and lover of quiet truths. His words unmask a timeless illusion: that what lies far away, hidden in foreign lands or wrapped in unattainable difficulty, seems greater than it is, while the treasures at our very feet are overlooked. The heart is often restless, longing for distant horizons, yet true greatness is born in the soil beneath our own hands.
The ancients saw this folly in kings and common men alike. How often did rulers cast away their own peace in pursuit of distant conquests, only to lose both wealth and crown? Meanwhile, the wise farmer who tilled his small field with patience reaped a harvest that nourished generations. The distant dazzles the eye, but the opportunity near at hand builds the future.
Consider the tale of Thomas Edison. Many dreamt of marvels in faraway sciences, chasing mysteries beyond their reach. Yet Edison turned his gaze to the small and practical—the lamp, the phonograph, the common tools of life. In attending to what was at hand, he created inventions that transformed the world. His genius was not in seeking the distant, but in seizing the opportunity before him.
So too in the life of Florence Nightingale. She did not chase after distant thrones or glory in high offices. Instead, she stepped into the hospitals of war, into filth and despair where few cared to look. There, where she was, she found her opportunity, and by embracing it, she changed the face of medicine forever. The greatness of her work proves Burroughs’ wisdom: the true field of transformation is often close at hand.
Therefore, let this truth be handed down: beware the glitter of the distant and the mirage of the difficult, for they may blind you to the harvest within your reach. Look well where you stand, for your destiny may be waiting in the ground beneath your feet. The opportunity that will shape your life is not always across the seas, but in the moment and the place where you already dwell. Seize it, and you shall find that what seemed small is greater than any distant prize.
Hharry
Community-wise, the message lands like a dare. Instead of dreaming about a distant 'scene,' what if I mapped influence within one kilometer: schools, clinics, small businesses, overlooked public spaces? Could you outline a mini-civic sprint—survey needs, recruit five neighbors, pilot a cleanup or tutoring hour, measure outcomes, and share open notes? I’d like indicators that the local bet is paying off: new volunteers, recurring participation, micro-grants, and policy nudges. How do we keep momentum without collapsing into organizer burnout?
KDNguyen Thi Kim Duyen
My brain craves adventure; my calendar needs impact. How do I defuse novelty bias without sandbagging ambition? Maybe a two-track routine: a weekly 'depth sprint' devoted to nearby leverage, and a smaller 'frontier hour' for speculative play. Add a gratitude inventory for current assets and a rule that experiments must connect to present commitments within four weeks. What reflection questions expose escapism—am I avoiding discomfort, chasing status, or neglecting relationships that compound if I simply show up?
TTPT Thu Thao
Career-wise, I’ve romanticized new cities and brand names while ignoring internal openings that match my strengths. Could you draft a decision tree for 'stay and build versus jump'? Inputs might include mentorship density, problem novelty, learning curve, sponsorship access, and the cost of switching. I’d also like a 90-day local experiment: shadow a cross-functional team, propose one process fix, and present outcomes to leadership. If traction appears, postpone the external search. If not, leave with clearer evidence and stories.
TVDo The Viet
As a creator, I’m tempted by far-off gigs and rarefied stages. Yet my practice thrives when I publish small pieces regularly to the audience I already have. Can you help design a 'studio circuit': daily drills, a weekly release, one collaboration a month, and a quarterly open studio for feedback? I want thresholds that keep quality intact—checklists, interim critiques, and a kill switch for noisy ideas. How do I balance exploration with commitment so the work in front of me doesn’t feel like settling?
TTBui Thi Thuy Trang
From a founder lens, I’ve burned months chasing partnerships abroad while ignoring email lists, lapsed customers, and unused inventory. Maybe the smartest move is an audit of what’s within reach: assets, relationships, proprietary data, community goodwill. Could you outline a simple worksheet for that, including a way to estimate upside versus effort? I also want a guardrail against 'grass-is-greener' bias—perhaps a rule that 70% of budget funds adjacent bets before any moonshot. What metrics would tell me the nearby bet is actually undervalued, not just convenient?