≈ 7 min read · August 11, 2026
There is an old photograph of me from my late twenties.
At the time, I thought I was doing rather well. Those around me seemed to agree. There were achievements to point at, some progress to measure, and enough applause to persuade a young man that perhaps he had begun to understand life.
Today, I look at that photograph differently.
I do not despise the man in it. He had worked for what he had. But I smile at how easily an early success can masquerade as a final destination.
Had I mistaken that small rise for the summit, I might have built my house there.
And that would have been the danger.
Life Does Not Rise in a Straight Line
An electrical engineer learns early that systems are not always governed by steady-state conditions.
There are transients.
A disturbance occurs. A quantity rises suddenly. A peak appears. It falls. Another oscillation follows. Sometimes the first peak is the largest. Sometimes it is merely the beginning of a much larger sequence.
Life behaves much the same way.
We like to imagine progress as a smooth ascending line. Education, employment, promotion, influence, prosperity, wisdom.
But experience rarely obeys such neat geometry.
Life has peaks, valleys, overshoots, delays, oscillations, interruptions and new operating conditions.
The mistake is not experiencing a peak.
The mistake is assuming that every peak is the final one.
Beware the False Peak
There are moments when life becomes comfortable enough to deceive us.
A student becomes the best in his class.
A young professional earns a respected position.
A business begins making money.
A researcher publishes an important paper.
A leader receives recognition.
An expert becomes known for knowing what others do not.
All these things are good.
But every good achievement contains a quiet temptation.
Stay here.
This is what I call a false peak.
A false peak is a real achievement interpreted as a final destination.
It is dangerous precisely because it does not look dangerous.
Failure usually announces itself loudly. Success is more subtle. It congratulates you, gives you a comfortable chair, and quietly asks whether all this further striving is really necessary.
Many people do not disappear because they lacked talent.
They disappear because they became satisfied with an earlier version of themselves.
Yesterday’s Success Has an Expiry Date
Suppose a man graduates at the top of his class.
It is an admirable accomplishment.
But imagine him entering a company twenty years later and demanding promotion because he once received the highest examination marks at university.
We would think the argument ridiculous.
The organisation would reasonably ask:
What can you do now?
What problems can you solve now?
What judgement have you developed?
What value can you create under present conditions?
Yesterday’s success may introduce you.
It cannot indefinitely qualify you.
This is one of the harsher laws of relevance.
Yesterday’s success is not today’s qualification.
The knowledge that distinguished you ten years ago may now be common knowledge.
The technology you mastered may become obsolete.
The position that once gave you influence may disappear.
The market may change.
The profession may change.
The problem itself may change.
And when the operating conditions change, the system must respond.
So must the person.
Relevance Is a Dynamic Condition
In engineering, a system designed for one operating condition may fail when subjected to another.
The same is true of human capacity.
A person may be perfectly adequate for one season and dangerously underprepared for the next.
This is why I have become increasingly interested in the relationship between opportunity and capacity.
Imagine that the opportunity before you becomes ten times larger.
More responsibility.
More visibility.
More money.
More complexity.
More people depending on your decisions.
More difficult problems.
We normally celebrate such expansion.
But there is another question worth asking.
Has your capacity expanded with it?
Because a 10X opportunity presented to a 1X person is not necessarily a blessing.
It may be an exposure test.
A larger platform magnifies both competence and incompetence.
A greater responsibility reveals weaknesses that a smaller responsibility could comfortably conceal.
Growth without preparation has ruined many people who once prayed earnestly for growth.
The problem was not that the opportunity became too large.
The problem was that the person remained too small.
Every Peak Creates a New Requirement
Look again at the transient waveform.
The first peak may feel enormous when you are standing upon it.
From that position, the valley beyond may even look like decline.
But the valley may be preparation.
The oscillation may be adjustment.
The apparent loss of momentum may be the system gathering itself for another rise.
Then comes another peak.
Higher.
More demanding.
More revealing.
Life repeats this process.
Student success may demand discipline.
Professional success may demand competence.
Leadership may demand judgement.
Influence may demand restraint.
Wealth may demand stewardship.
Research may demand intellectual humility.
Greater responsibility almost always demands a larger internal structure.
Therefore, every achievement should produce two responses.
Gratitude.
And preparation.
Celebrate the peak, certainly.
But sharpen your tools before the next transient arrives.
Reinvention Is Not Rejection
Some people resist reinvention because they interpret it as an admission that their former selves were inadequate.
That is unnecessary.
The apprentice need not despise himself because he later becomes a master.
The student was not foolish because he did not yet possess the knowledge of the professor.
Growth does not require contempt for who you were.
It requires refusal to remain there.
Every version of you should contribute something to the next.
Experience should accumulate.
Character should deepen.
Judgement should become more precise.
Skills should broaden.
Old assumptions should occasionally be inspected like ageing electrical equipment.
Some remain serviceable.
Some require maintenance.
Some should be retired before they cause trouble.
The wise person does not reinvent himself merely because novelty is fashionable.
He reinvents himself because reality has presented new demands.
The Greater Danger Is Not Failure
We spend much time discussing fear of failure.
Perhaps we should also discuss the danger of premature satisfaction.
Failure can provoke examination.
Comfort often postpones it.
Failure asks, “What must I change?”
Success whispers, “Why change anything?”
And thus a successful person may slowly become irrelevant while still surrounded by evidence of former relevance.
That is one of life’s strangest tragedies.
The trophies remain.
The titles remain.
The photographs remain.
Only the usefulness disappears.
Do Not Build Your House on the First Peak
So when life gives you an early victory, enjoy it.
When people applaud, receive the applause with gratitude.
When a door opens, walk through it.
When you achieve something difficult, permit yourself a moment of satisfaction.
But do not confuse arrival at a peak with arrival at the peak.
There may be greater demands ahead.
Larger opportunities.
Harder problems.
Greater usefulness.
Greater relevance.
The little peak that presently impresses you may one day look like a minor oscillation on a much larger waveform.
And that is not an insult to your present achievement.
It is an invitation.
Life is still moving.
Your capacity should be moving with it.
For the person who wishes to remain relevant, perhaps the better question is no longer:
“Am I successful?”
It is:
“Am I becoming capable of carrying what may come next?”
A wise engineer respects the transient.
A wise person should do the same.
Be grateful for the peak. Learn from the valley. Prepare for the next rise.
And above all, never let a small peak persuade you that the waveform has ended.
