My friend Jim said that all his life he wanted to be great at something. But now that he's in his twilight years, it ain't gonna happen. Unless he signs up for Burt Goldman's Quantum Jumping course, then he might have a chance.
I've known Jim more than 20 years, but I don't know what he does. I never ask people what they do. (Unless I'm hiring them to do it.) I think it's something in science, or engineering.
What I do know about Jim is that when I speak with him, he's right there. Listening. Present. Aware. Ready to respond with a thoughtful idea or a personal story. Sometimes he offers something totally new that I've never heard before.
Jim is great!
Though it seems we can't even say 'great' now, because everything is 'great.'
"Jim? Oh, he's great."
Great is not good enough for Jim. When we want to say something is great, capital G great, we have to say 'truly great.'
You know who was great? The Inca. They built structures and walls out of stones that fit together perfectly without any mortar, and some are still standing more than 500 years later. And the Inca didn't complain about flooding resulting from the El Niño and La Niña phenomena; instead, they took advantage of what they knew would occur (because they were well aware of the flooding cycles) and built canals for irrigation. At the time of the Spanish Conquest they had the largest empire in South America.
The Inca were great.
Greatness is a quality only others can ascribe to us. Let's say you or some achievements of yours are called 'great' by others. What happens when people have forgotten about that achievement? What happens when you're old, eating applesauce and watching Jeopardy in the day room...are you still great?
Even the great must fall. Especially the great must fall.
Memento mori is an oft-used trope in many traditions and cultures. When the generals of ancient Rome returned from their victories, riding in golden chariots through the throng of cheering citizens, a lowly slave would be stationed directly behind, whispering Respice post te…Hominem te memento [Look behind, remember that you are a man] in the general's ear as they rode.
According to Friar Robert B. Manansala, at one time Trappist monks used the phrase memento mori as their standard greeting to each other–sort of like ‘aloha’ but more spiritual.
Plato's Phaedo tells us that Socrates said the true purpose of studying philosophy was "to practice for dying and death."
The Bible says In all you do, remember the end of your life, and then you will never sin. (Sirach 7:36, Revised Standard Version)
As Bret Primack alludes to in his recent article, musicians often have a sort of built-in memento mori in that they play each performance as if it will be their last.
Only the idea of death makes a warrior sufficiently detached so that he is capable of abandoning himself to anything. He knows his death is stalking him and won't give him time to cling to anything so he tries, without craving, all of everything. –Carlos Castaneda
Years ago my father had a heart attack in Grand Central Station. He later told me that as he was laying down on a bench in his business suit, commuters passing by without a glance because they thought he was drunk, he saw Death hovering over his left shoulder, exactly as described in the Castaneda work. The Eye of Horus apparently gazed over Dad’s other shoulder; he received medical attention and lived many more years.
My father, by the way, was great. Everyone said so.
Herb Terry with his best friends Tex and Felix, early 1940s NYC. Folklorist Margot Mayo referred to them as ‘The Three Graces.’
Aspiring to greatness, therefore, is completely useless because it depends on other people's opinions. In actuality, one's development into greatness can only depend on oneself. Someone should let Paris Hilton know.
Here's the thing about greatness: it has two aspects. One is the superficial aspect, what people see. "Oh, that's a great book, oh that's a great movie....so-and-so sports figure is great."
People see the achievement. They see the result. But they don't see how the result was attained because that's hidden. It has to be hidden. All of the work that went into achieving that result, that's not on TV. It's not visible to the public. It's not on display. It's actually a very private process–an alchemical process the person goes through while they're working on their quest.
Becoming better at a sport, researching a book, creating a work of art–all of that work is done behind the scenes. It's very obsessive, detailed work. The public does not see it, and the public is not supposed to see it.
The real greatness lies in what is hidden, not in what is on display. That's why it doesn't matter if you've never written a great book or you've never won an Olympic medal. True greatness is not about outward achievement. Rather, it's about the daily examining of one's life; the daily observations, the daily impressions, the daily contemplation, the daily actions, the daily kindnesses.
We're not trying to achieve things. There's nothing to achieve. We're simply giving daily attention to detail.
What happens when you're old, eating applesauce and watching Jeopardy in the day room...are you still great?
If we're doing the work, we show up, every day. (Or most days. We have to cut ourselves a little slack occasionally.) When we show up for life, ready to give it everything we've got, observing ourselves, not taking things personally, trying to make a contribution to Universe, then we are great.
Like my dogs: they show up for life ready to give it everything they've got. They observe everything. They don't take anything personally. They make a contribution to Universe.
My dogs are great. The Inca were great. Jim is great.
Greatness, like Beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. There are certain music artists–who shall remain nameless–who are deemed 'great' by the critics but I just don't get why. Perhaps my limitation. But when someone or something is truly great, Universe smiles, because even if no one else knows something is great, Universe knows.
Does greatness imply some sort of moral rectitude? Depends on the beholder, I suppose. But maybe we're missing something here. Doesn't greatness imply 'larger than life?’ Shouldn't something great be:
extraordinary
luminous
uplifiting
or does it just mean 'powerful,' like Napoleon or Julius Caesar? Are we to subscribe to 19th century philosopher Thomas Carlyle’s ‘Great Man Theory’ or might there be other factors involved in greatness?
Universal History, the history of what man has accomplished in this world, is at bottom the History of the Great Men who have worked here. They were the leaders of men, these great ones; the modellers, patterns, and in a wide sense creators, of whatsoever the general mass of men contrived to do or to attain; all things that we see standing accomplished in the world are properly the outer material result, the practical realisation and embodiment, of Thoughts that dwelt in the Great Men sent into the world: the soul of the whole world's history, it may justly be considered, were the history of these. – Thomas Carlyle. On Heroes, Hero-worship, & the Heroic in History
Sometimes you can be great by accident. Hence the old expression Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.
In any case, greatness is certainly a matter of opinion.
So if you still aspire to greatness, know both its exterior and interior aspects. It's like Enlightenment:
Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
It goes from an exterior thing to an interior, sacred quality, like Grace.
Herreshoff, Magdalena. Grace. 2018, private collection.
Like Grace, being truly great is a state of being. One that doesn’t have awareness of itself. It simply IS.
It simply IS.
It simply IS.
Lenny Bruce: "What is, is. And what will be is bullshit."
Ram Das: "Be here now."
Aspiring to greatness may be the ultimate folly. Just do the work. What comes, will come, then one day, maybe, we will turn around, look back and say, that's where I was and this is where I am.