How I'm Struggling to Balance Nietzsche's Power with Rumi's Love

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re losing your focus again,” I screamed at my Padel partner.

He looked at me calmly without responding. How could he? I was a raving lunatic spewing fury.

Yes, I’m extra competitive. Yes, I’m a terrible loser. But the depths of my anger and frustration reached a new level that day.

What always makes it worse after my outbursts is the guilt that I feel, which is instantly followed by brutal self-talk. These become so intense that they can be rightly described as Self-flagellation.

I calmed down in the evening and called my partner to apologise. He was understanding and blessed with more emotional intelligence than I could ever be.

However, after journalling my feelings the next day, I still felt that the apology was insufficient to prevent me from repeating my behaviour. The truth was, after reflection, I always knew where I was going wrong, yet I kept doing it.

I needed to dig deeper.

I traced my anger back to the start of the week. It had not been a good week at work. My worst fears were confirmed: the next six months would be the most challenging I’ve had for many years.

Also, my injured tennis elbow was frustrating, as I was in pain both on and off the court. Being who I am, I didn’t want to rest my arm and play less padel. I was on the way to ruining the one thing I’d been genuinely enjoying in the last eighteen months.

However, as I continued journalling, I saw that my issues ran even deeper.

I was angry with myself, the world, and many in it.

I hadn’t mourned my father’s passing. The final images of him so thin and fragile still haunt me today. Why did a man so full of life have to spend the last two years barely awake? I know we are human and imperfect. But my father was perfect to me, and I would give anything to erase my final image of him.

I was furious and resentful for allowing myself (and my company) to be in such a precarious position. Why hadn’t I prepared, saved, invested/divested for this rainy day?

Then, there was the ever-present existential question I keep asking myself. Who am I, really? Was I a writer trapped in a materialistic business world or a businessman who hobbied as a writer?

Am I Nietzche or Rumi?

Though their ideologies could be viewed as opposites, their words and thinking have greatly influenced me. But therein lies the problem. Within me, there are two complete opposites.

In some parts of my life, I admire and want to be Nietzchian, with the ‘will to power’ mindset, while in others, I want to be more mindful and notice more of the world and life itself. Like Rumi, I want to “look past my thoughts so I may drink the pure nectar of this moment.”

When I strive to win, especially in my business life or trying to achieve a set goal (even when I’m not happy doing so), I think of Friedrich Nietzsche.

His ‘Will to Power’ philosophy means striving to be our best selves, pursuing mastery no matter the cost to ourselves or others. The goal supersedes everything else. Forget what people say. Forget the history we carry and all the negative self-talk we feed ourselves. Just go for it, even when there is some suffering involved. Meaning must be created in an often meaningless universe.

When trying to find solutions for my business, I want to think unemotionally, with only the end in mind, without a thought for others’ feelings. Business is hard; it’s a zero-sum game, and often, we have to do the right things even when they hurt others. So, I have to put on my Nietzche hat.

Right now, I have to go to the gym. It’s easy and comfortable not to go, as it’s raining hard outside. I’m enjoying writing this piece while listening to Luca D’Alberto’s music, but I’ve got to work out, as I’ve missed so many sessions recently.

Let’s go, Mo Nietzche.

But then, when I’m at peace with myself and the people around me, my heart is smiling, and I can hear the sound of silence; I think of Jalaluddin Rumi. I sense the meaning everywhere in our universe.

When I’m helpless and doubt my existence, when my internal suffering is so great, I remember Rumi’s words: “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”

Whenever I fear death or try to understand it, like a few months ago at my father’s funeral, I thought of Rumi speaking about annihilating the ego to achieve union with the beloved.

However, what scares me is that I can sway from one idealogy to another, from one value to another, often on the same day, making me feel like a hypocrite.

How can I push to win mercilessly, whether in business or Padel and reconcile it with the love and compassion I find in my ‘Rumi’ self?

A few weeks ago, I lost my head with a company employee, but several days later, I was the first to support and comfort him when he felt lost and helpless.

Perhaps I’m yet to find the real MO—the one free of fear and anger. Or maybe becoming the real MO will be my life's vocation, as it must be for everyone.

I know that deep down, I want to be more like Rumi. I know that his words, his ideas and his life are what my true inner self seeks. I want to live by his words:

“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

But I also understand that the Nietzchian mindset is needed to help me in my upcoming battles. Who will pay my bills? How can I make my company successful? How can I become a better Padel player?