Personal Greatness

You needn’t tell many people here at Cal, myself included, to strive for greatness. I often catch myself daydreaming in class of the things that “could be.” In my literature courses, I yearn to be a great writer, the likes of Steinbeck, Austen, or Dostoevsky. In my economics courses, I’m captivated by thinkers like Keynes and Marx, whose writings inspired revolutions and defined economies. When I’m particularly captured by a text or an analysis thereof, I’ll think to myself: how do I get to this level? Can the genius of these thinkers be learned? Replicated? How can I rise to be a writer of this prominence?

For others here at Berkeley, dreams of greatness come through other means. Golden Bear Orientation is a weeklong program mandatory for new students at UC Berkeley. Hectic and overwhelming, it’s a proper introduction to the University of California. As an orientation leader, I lead freshmen who seem to grow more ambitious and self-confident each year. Strong, passionate personalities with numerous interests collide that first week of school. I’m energized just thinking about it.

This year, I have one student who wants to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. On the other side of the spectrum, I have a student who wants to be a professional esports athlete. College has assembled us at a peculiar time. We’ve all the passion in the world, and yet, while some of my peers possess a clear vision of their future, for most of us, our futures lie uncertain.

For myself, thoughts of the future can often be coupled with anxiety. Though I have big dreams for where I’ll end up, nothing is certain. Yes, I want to achieve greatness, but through what means—well, I certainly don’t have that answered yet.

I bring these ideas of greatness and the future into conversations with friends, teachers, and mentors frequently. Even this past Thursday, I grabbed coffee with one friend whose remarks struck me in particular. We’re both in our final years of study here at Cal. He does his studies in the history department. In our conversation, he also expressed the desire for greatness. In his words, sure, some part of him desires to be ‘immortalized’ in history books, be it through some contribution of writing, or even through the political sphere. And yet, more recently, he’s come to realize he may just want a quieter life for himself as opposed to a life of fame—a life in which he has a stable job and a family. I must confess, I too see the appeal in these comforts.

The charm of normalcy seems to grow stronger the older I become. Now, there is certainly some small part of me that holds contempt at the idea of living a ‘normal’ life, but these are fading remnants of a misplaced religious zeal from high school. In this current part of my life, I am beginning to understand that living a modest life does not equate to living a lesser life. You needn’t trade one for the other at all.

I’m optimistic that a ‘normal’ life won’t doom me to a lack of greatness. Maybe one day I will indeed become a great thinker or writer, but, in everyday life, I tend to overlook greatness when it’s right in front of me: great friends, teachers, mentors, pastors, fathers, mothers, brothers. As I dwell on personal greatness, I am reminded of these numerous great people in my life who are great, not in spite of their modest positions, but exactly because of their much needed presence in them. Perhaps this kind of ‘everyday greatness,’ a kind of greatness separate from ambition, can be solace from the burden of achievement. When we are present in our relationships with one another, our dreams of greatness can cease to be a source of uncertainty and begin to become a source of comfort.