In 2008, J.K. Rowling went out to Harvard graduates—kids whose biggest life drama at the time was probably getting an A in macroeconomics—and started talking about things that are usually embarrassing in social conversations: poverty, depression, and total collapse.
I reread this speech now, when our reality resembles anything but a glossy magazine, and I understand why this text still resonates. It lacks optimism. But there are some very sobering thoughts from a person who first got a good beating from life and then became a billionaire.
Speeches that no one remembers
Rowling begins by mocking herself and the event itself. She admits that she lost weight due to fear of speaking (a bonus that few people would refuse if they were already nervous), and honestly says that she doesn't remember a single word of the speech that was read at her own graduation. It relieves the tension. When you realize that your words will be forgotten in a few years, there is only one way out – to say what you think, and not what the protocol requires.
She didn’t tell the young elite how to conquer the world quickly. Instead, she offered a talk about the benefits of failure. To an audience accustomed to measuring success by grades, rankings, and future Wall Street jobs, this was likely to sound like a mild diversion.
The Romance of an Empty Wallet
Rowling's parents grew up in poverty. They did not have a higher education and quite logically believed that literature was not the thing that would pay the bills. They can be understood. When you know how much bread costs, ideas about high art fade into the background. Rowling made a compromise that did not suit anyone: she enrolled in modern languages, but secretly escaped to study ancient mythology.
She doesn't blame her parents. Moreover, she agrees with them on the main thing: poverty is not fun. Rowling shatters this popular movie myth of the “noble poor man.” Let's be honest: lack of money does not make a person spiritually richer. It brings fear, stress, and a thousand small daily humiliations. Only those who have never counted coins at the supermarket checkout can romanticize poverty.
The writer was not so much afraid of not having money as she was afraid of not achieving anything in the end. And that's exactly what happened to her.
Stone foundation
Seven years after university, Rowling was an epic failure. Divorced, unemployed, with a child in her arms. She was at rock bottom.
But here's an interesting paradox that's rarely written about in success books. When you lose everything, you no longer have to pretend to be someone. The bottom becomes a good foundation. You no longer have to maintain a facade, live up to someone's expectations, or play social games that you don't have the energy for anyway.
Rowling was left with an old typewriter, an idea, and a child. And it turned out that this was enough to start building something real. Failure gave her the freedom that successfully passed exams never gave.
Imagination as a weapon against monsters
The second part of her reflection is about imagination. And here Rowling takes a sharp turn. For us, imagination is something about elves, magic wands and parallel worlds. For her, it is the ability to feel someone else's pain.
Before becoming the world's most famous storyteller, Rowling worked in the London office of Amnesty International. She read letters smuggled out of totalitarian countries. She saw photographs of missing persons, read reports of torture, heard the screams of people who had just learned of the execution of their loved ones. She was confronted with a reality where power rests on blood and people are capable of unimaginable cruelty.
Humans are the only creatures capable of putting themselves in the shoes of others without having experienced their experiences firsthand. But that takes effort. It’s much easier to shut yourself away in your comfort zone, ignore the news, and refuse to see suffering that doesn’t concern you.
Rowling makes a harsh observation: those who refuse to empathize end up releasing real monsters into the world. Apathy is also complicity.
And this is perhaps the strongest point of the text. Especially now. When the world so easily tires of other people's tragedies, the ability to keep your eyes open is not just empathy. It is a basic test of humanity.
Instead of morality
Rowling ends by saying that what really matters is when all the trappings are gone. Degrees, positions, statuses—all of that can burn down in a day. What remains are the people who were there when you were nothing. The friends of your youth who didn't sue her when she named the Death Eaters in her books.
And finally, she quotes Seneca. The same Roman she learned about when she escaped boring lectures to study classics.
“Life is like a fairy tale: what matters is not how long it is, but how good it is.”
And it's hard to argue with that. Success comes and goes, money depreciates, and reality periodically throws up such plots that any magic seems like kindergarten. But if after all the falls you have enough common sense not to lie to yourself, the willpower to push yourself off the bottom, and a few old friends with whom you can have a drink and be silent, consider that everything is not so bad.
Share
Subscribe to UkrMedia on Telegram.
⚡ Readers' Pulse
What do you think: is the “bottom” really the best teacher, or is it better to build success without such painful lessons?
6 people have already voted. Join the discussion.
💎 The bottom gives freedom 🩹 Failure is trauma 🤔 I have my own opinion
☝️ First choose your position
✏️ Write a comment
📊 Mind map
💎 The bottom gives freedom 33% 🩹 Failure is a trauma 66% 🤔 I have my own opinion 0% 💡
The discussion is just beginning. Be the first to comment!
Comments
New ones first ↕
There are no comments yet. Be the first!