Greatness
What does it take to be great? Is it destiny, or an innate passion found through everyday life? I know there is no definite answer, but despite this, my curiosity for my future still runs rampant.
I look at all the greats of my time, everyone from Michael Jordan to Lucian Freud, and Einstein. All of those men wore their genius and understanding around their necks. Their fires burned so greatly that everyone around them felt the warmth, be it from their television or the textbooks. Jordan had a piercing look during his ball games, and Lucian’s self-portraits showed an adamant focus. I tell myself every night about how much I want to accomplish as those great men did.
The mystery of the call to greatness keeps me up every night, consequently prying me away from my dreams. It is this irony, which reminds me to keep like the tortoise, and leave the hare to nap in his arrogance, while I cross the same finish line that we will both eventually reach. Some days, I am the hare, and the romantic fantasies of the podium finish obscure my attention from the experience of the competition. I remind myself every day that greatness has nothing to do with glory. I know it’s a long race so I might as well wave back to all the leaves that greet me with the wind. I want so badly to do my best and I know that I have the passion to fuel me to the moon and back. First I must learn to build the rocket.
Abraham Lincoln once said, “Nearly any man could deal with adversity, but if you want to test his true character, give him power.” To be great in any trade is to have power, but to be even greater is to be powerful for others. I don’t know if I’ll ever be an Abraham Lincoln or Van Gogh, but I know that I can work just as hard as them. After I finish my studies, I want to know I did my absolute best, because when it comes down to it, the journey is more important than the destination.
