Commitment is the crucible in which accomplishment is born. The
single most dramatic difference between those who achieve great
things and those who do not, is intense commitment, steadfast
passion with a purpose
– no matter the pursuit.
Commitment is the crucible in which accomplishment is born. The single most dramatic difference between those who achieve great things and those who do not, is intense commitment, steadfast passion with a purpose – no matter the pursuit.
Mary Crowley, the late home interior decorating maven said, “One person with a commitment is worth a hundred who only have an interest.”
Star athletes win because they taste victory; they’re sold out wholly to winning. It’s no less a mental game for super achievers in the business world. They reach deep within themselves to tap peak performance; their burning desires never take a vacation.
Committed people are excited about seeing results from their efforts. They don’t avoid hard decisions; they don’t mind sacrifices.
Dogged determination can compensate for a variety of shortcomings. The maniacal focus of commitment is more important than inherent ability, more central than knowledge or feelings, because the person who is unswerving likely finds a way to prevail.
Former Chrysler Chairman Lee Iacocca recalls Vince Lombardi, the Green Bay Packers legendary coach once saying in conversation, “Every time you go out to ply your trade, you’ve got to play from the ground up – from the soles of your feet right up to your head. Every inch of you has to play. Most important, you’ve got to play with your heart. If you play with a lot of head and a lot of heart, you’re never going to come off the field second.”
I learned a powerful lesson about commitment several years ago after receiving a terminal liver cancer diagnosis. As a result of an auto accident, I underwent a few routine outpatient checkups. A radiologist didn’t like one test result, prompting him to send me to one specialist, then another.
After those visits, I was summoned to the hospital post haste to investigate a foreign “mass,” and endured a variety of tests, including a liver biopsy.
While I was sitting alone in a hospital room, the surgeon came to deliver the news: “Get your affairs in order, you have 90 days at best. Oh, and sign here to authorize chemotherapy to begin tomorrow.”
He left the room, and my thoughts began racing jet-speed. “What now?”
I was divorced, had one son an ocean away in the Navy, another one in high school. My mom was recovering from a stroke.
I decided not to alarm family members; I decided this was going to have a different outcome.
It took about 30 seconds to get myself to the active commitment mode. In an instant, I vowed that fear was not going to take over, and further, that I would not die at age 43. And I didn’t.
I slept, ate and breathed one word – healed! Some time later, I ran into one of my physicians in the hallway of the hospital. He said, “You are a very lucky lady!”
I don’t know about luck, but I do know about commitment. Without commitment, sometimes nothing else matters.