It was sometime in the hazy twilight of childhood, knees scraped raw from falling off bicycles, fingers smeared with graphite from broken pencils, that we first tasted ego. A fluttering sense of pride, that strange little whisper, "This is mine, and it's good because it's mine." We carried this whisper forward, unknowingly feeding it with every gold star, every pat on the back, every fleeting affirmation that anchored us to a world that seemed otherwise indifferent.
And now, here we stand, navigating a labyrinth of screens, codes, and silicon dreams. Ego is still there, whispering louder, sometimes roaring. It says, "Be recognized, be validated, become something that outlasts the ephemeral." But the whispers come with thorns, for ego, left unchecked, turns brittle, reactive, fragile as glass under pressure. It collapses under criticism, panics in uncertainty, and freezes in the face of failure.
Yet, ego isn't the villain in this human drama. Like everything, it has its middle path. Ego, when bound tightly to something real- craftsmanship, integrity, honest sweat, the quiet dignity of work done well, becomes not a cage, but a compass. It pushes us toward excellence, not just for applause, but for the quiet joy of shaping something tangible, something good, something true.
The paradox is subtle, easy to miss: the most resilient egos are those least dependent on external validation. When your identity is entwined not with the praise but with the process, you find yourself strangely free, capable of engaging with work deeply, passionately, yet unneeding of shallow approbation. Detached but not apathetic. Ambitious yet adaptable. Present.
Because at the end of all striving, after the cycles of pride and disappointment, after the temporary fireworks of achievement fade into the ordinary sky, what remains is simply you. Imperfect, yes, and inevitably tied to ego, whether you like it or not. But when that ego serves craftsmanship, responsibility, and genuine effort, it transforms from burden to anchor.
Let your ego, therefore, be deeply rooted in something real. A craft. A task. A purpose. Because the ego tied to meaningful effort is not easily shattered; it bends gracefully under pressure, grows quietly through adversity, and reveals, perhaps unexpectedly, its true nature: strength through the act of creation and the quiet satisfaction of doing something well.