Finding greatness?

In a toilet cubicle of my favourite art-house cinema, I sat with my pants around my ankles and my head in my hands, bawling my eyes out.

I had just seen Finding Vivian Maier, a film about the recently discovered work and life of the New York street photographer of the same name. Now, if you have seen that movie, you may agree it’s a great story well told, but you’d be hard pressed to rate it as a tear jerker.

What had I found so moving?

A collector buys a random suitcase of undeveloped film negatives, and has them processed to discover that they are the work of genius. We go with him on a detective hunt to find out who this person was – a rather lonely and curious figure whose passion was street photography, and whose excellent work was never discovered or exhibited in her lifetime. He stages a show and the world is astounded – how did we never know about this greatness?

The idea of greatness undiscovered was the reason for my flood of tears. I had long held onto a belief and hope that I was made for something great, and it was the purpose of my life to find that thing and live it out. It was not about money or fame as such, but it was about helping change the world into a better place. To not connect with that personal greatness, whatever it may be, or to connect with it and no one else to be aware, was a terrible thing.

In reality however, the terrible thing was that in pursuing my passion for greatness I actually brought much damage and hurt on myself, and those I loved.

Because I mistook being exceptional for greatness. Being exceptional means that you think you are somehow special; you can take up more space, your choices are wiser, and underneath it all, you are more important than other people. The wrongness of this thinking is not at all obvious to you when you’re in the middle of it – that only comes with time, and with being held to account for your actions by those who love you and you love in return.

Since then I have tried at all costs to avoid exceptionalism, and instead live by the idea that while I am no better or more important than anybody else, I am unique. I have a particular voice, and it’s ok for me to use it. That is my greatness. None of us is exceptional, but all of us possess a greatness in our own particularity.

I hope that the stories I tell here are read by younger people as cautionary tales, as they seek to make their mark on the world in the first half of their lives; and read by older people as tales of courage, as they seek to right their wrongs, and live well in the second half.