I suppose that, using popular terms, I could be defined as someone who has "no ambition". I always loved learning, and thus got through school with mostly good grades; I proceeded to a university degree, because it was expected of me, and because I couldn't imagine anything else I would rather do. I completed it with good grades as well, but I was never attracted by anything, including my direct field of expertise, in terms of a career, success, the means of making money, gaining prestige, status, etc. I recall thinking, when I was very little, that I would love to be a teacher. This fantasy soon vanished in the face of what a madhouse the average Israeli class is.
In contrast, though for many years this remained subconscious, I was always attracted by the tranquil, the domestic, the cozy, the comforting, the traditional. Many favorite passages from favorite books related to home comforts (such as in Narnia). Like many others, I fell in love with hobbits, and dreamed of living in a hobbit-hole someday. I loved to listen to stories about people who picked up their own fruit from their own garden, and baked their own bread - even though in real life, both fruit and bread always came from the supermarket.
I guess, then, that right now I'm living out the supremely un-ambitious, bread-baking, egg-gathering, home-bustle, quiet life. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything, or rather, I realize that by necessity we always miss out on something, because when we choose one road in life, by necessity we don't take all the other roads, don't do all the other things we could have done. If one chooses to be a doctor, it means one "misses out" on being a painter, a teacher, an engineer, or whatever. If one chooses full-time homemaking and child-rearing, one "misses out" on having an ambitious career. If one chooses the career path, other things are by necessity lost, and they are too numerous to list here.
Today, as the sun was setting, a friend stopped by with her little ones to look at our latest brood of chicks. While all the children played outside, we caught up with each other a bit (I haven't seen her in a while). It turned out she and her husband are both currently very busy working on their M.Sc. thesis. I then heard some very, shall we say, fascinating details about how the brains of a mouse are extracted from the skull and dissected (I shall skip those, alright?). I heard how many mice she processed with her own hands so far, shuddered and said, with a pained smile, "well, better you than me!"; I guess I should emphasize the fact that I had been a vegetarian for many years, and that when we buy whole chickens, I still ask my husband to cut them into parts for me before I proceed to cooking them.
I would not be surprised if my M.Sc- and PhD-pursuing friends, looking at my life, might say, "Well, better you than me!" - and that is fair enough. As for me, it might sound strange, I know, but I'm kind of happy I was not born more ambitious.