Why do people working on projects want to carve their name into their work? Construction workers etched their initials into the concrete of dams they built. NASA engineers inscribed their names on spacecraft components before sending them to the Moon. At JPL, engineers embedded Morse code into the rover’s wheels, spelling "JPL" as it moves across the Martian surface.
Why did they do this? The only answer I can think of is that they wanted to carve their names into history. I’ve been lucky enough to work alongside relentless, driven people. I’ve always wondered what makes someone get up at 4:17 AM after going to bed at 1:00 AM, braving the rain to work on a liquid rocket engine for a university club—especially when the university itself is trying to shut them down.
Not to be dramatic, but it’s ambition. Every single person I’ve met, including myself, has been fueled by ambition in one form or another. I haven’t fully unraveled the depths of other people’s ambition, so I’ll write about mine. I do this because I believe ambition is rooted in a similar place for all of us. I am nothing special.
Ambition, I believe, is an intrinsic part of the human animal—a defining characteristic that sets us apart. There have been times when my basic instincts—hunger, exhaustion—were drowned out by ambition. Not to say those instincts can be ignored forever, but the drive to create, to push forward, often overpowers them. Ambition has propelled humanity to dominate the Earth in ways no other species has. It’s the force that drove people to leave the safety of the pack, seek new frontiers, and improve living conditions. Ambition is the fuel in humankind’s war against entropy. Yet ambition is fleeting. I would almost describe it as a lack of pride, except that it’s laced with hope. If I didn’t believe my goals were achievable, I wouldn’t feel ambitious.
Ambition manifests in different ways throughout life. In Grade 11, it meant diving headfirst into a pile of people for a disc to win a season game. In Grade 9, it meant buying $4,000 worth of Ethernet cables, believing I could turn a profit.
This is why I hate the Icarus story. "He flew too close to the sun, and that’s why he died." No. He didn’t fly close enough to the sun. He didn’t fly with good enough wings. To soar with such vigor and courage that you risk getting burned is one of the greatest moments in life. Icarus is a hero—we should treat his story as one. Ambition is awesome.
My goal in life is to be more and more ambitious—to produce more and more for humankind. Ambition is the fire on the torch as humans navigate this dark universe. It needs to burn with greater intensity. I have never had a bad conversation with a truly ambitious person. I hope to have many more.