You and I have a connection between us. We all do. We can look into the eyes of another, whether a loved one or a stranger from a foreign land, and get some sense of the world from their point of view.
We have this power, but we do not always use it. Sometimes we may look at another and feel jealousy, lust, hatred, or any number of feelings which perhaps come from the polluted world of meanings which we as a society have overlaid on our shared experience.
We see fine clothing and a luxury car, and we associate them with “the good life.” We see a beautiful person, and we may feel our own supposed inadequacies. We see someone who is different from ourselves, or who reminds us of another who has wronged us, and we may feel fear or anger.
Most people believe (or think they should believe) that on the most basic level, things like possessions and notoriety don’t matter, that true beauty is within, and that success is not defined by what is trumpeted most loudly in the media and in social circles. Yet every day, most of us struggle to see the world beneath these societal constructs.
Think about yourself. Do you have an ideal version of yourself that you try to live up to? How often do you feel you succeed? Are you always trying to eat a little healthier, dress a little better, or cut back on that little something you think you shouldn’t be doing?
Reflect on why you are doing these things, and how you feel when you are doing them. Some people see themselves in a negative light, perhaps feeling that they are in some way deficient; that they’ll never become who they want to be or who they think they should be. They may become paralyzed by shame and anxiety.
Others see the whole situation as hopeless, or perhaps not a problem at all, and simply revel in moral ambiguity. Many are just aimlessly searching for meaning or satisfaction, always chasing after their next new thing.
Yet why do most of us believe (or maybe just hope) that on some level, these superficialities don’t matter? Are we more than these societal constructs? Does it lie in our dreams, in our loves, in lost childhood memories? Is it something we dance around in art, poetry, and literature?
If we believe that these things don’t really matter, then what does matter? A typical person might say that what is most important to them is spending time with family and friends, helping others, or doing things they love — things that connect us more deeply to the world. These are perhaps closer to the human spirit.
Greatness is a term that we use often, yet is difficult to define. It is a word that is used to describe both the highest achievements of humankind, and something as simple as a sandwich that makes you feel good to be alive.
When we call something great like the Great Wall of China or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, what is it that we are identifying? When we use the word in its purest form, we refer to more than just the number of bricks or brush strokes; true greatness is not merely bigness, elaborateness, fame, or influence.
When we are struck by an impression of a great person, is it a matter of talent, skill, or physical prowess, or is it something deeper?
Perhaps what we are seeing is our own human spirit — that intangible thing which connects us all — magnified; poured out through an individual or act which reverberates and reflects all the wonderful things inside of us.
When we see that Great Wall, we are inspired by our ability to conquer the landscape, to band together and construct things on an epic scale which rival the mountains and valleys in steadfastness and beauty. When we stand in the Sistine Chapel, we are overcome by the multifaceted beauty of the human spirit, and the ability of the artist to conjure it forth into plain sight.
When we see that great man or great woman, we get an electric feeling of inspiration, awe, and wonder as we see all that the human spirit is capable of, focused through a single individual or act. Witnessing greatness is a reminder of what lies inside of us, of who we wish to be, and of what possibilities remain for us.
In the epic poem Beowulf, the hero, having lived a life of adventure and bravery, is confronted with one last challenge — one last insurmountable monster to defeat.
Living out our own inner greatness is difficult; it may be hard to find our greatness in the first place. We are constantly distracted from it, and it may be covered up or forgotten entirely in the face of all the things we think we are supposed to do, or all of the fears that make us shrink.
In the story, Beowulf’s companion Wiglaf tells him,
“Go on, dear Beowulf, do everything
You said you would when you were still young
And vowed you would never let your name and fame
Be dimmed while you lived.”1
Our hero presses onward toward the monster and slays it, dying in the process. And in that act, which brought his death, Beowulf brought the full force of his being into the world.
There are many monsters that we all face. Should we shrink back in trepidation, following the wisdom of the masses or succumbing to fear and self-doubt? Or should we reach down into what makes us who we are, into what inspires us and alights our spirit, and bring the full force of our being on all that the world throws our way?
That is for each of us to decide.
1Translation from Seamus Heaney (2000), Beowulf: A New Verse Translation, W.W. Norton & Company.
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