The Pursuit of Greatness

There's a breed of person who believes they can be the best at anything. You've seen them exuding confidence in their potential with a religious conviction. Their ambition, framed as inspirational, could be less a testament to their greatness and more a reflection of our collective discomfort with insignificance.

Dismissing these people is like a reflex for me. I default to labeling their self-belief as egotistical, naive, and desperate for validation. That dismissal may be an act of self-defense. If I can reduce their ambition to a personality flaw, I don't have to confront my lack of it. It's easier to sit on the sidelines and critique than to wrestle with the possibility, the fact even, that I am not living up to my potential.

Or is it more profound than that? Could it be a reflection of something less individual and psychological and more about the collective human condition? Our ultimate insignificance amongst the vastness of existence. No matter how grand, our accomplishments are blips in the vast expanse of time and space. For every person who knows your name, trillions never will. For every achievement carved into stone, printed on paper, or saved to a server, countless others are forgotten or ignored.

This perceived truth isn't a reason not to strive for greatness. It may be the reason these people do. This pursuit of greatness can feel like an act of rebellion against insignificance, a way to shout into the void and demand that it take notice. Except, the void doesn't care. No amount of success or fame will change the fundamental truth that we will be forgotten and our lives reduced to dust and data.

So what are we to make of those who chase greatness with such ferocity? Are they courageous for refusing to accept their smallness? Or are they deluding themselves, clinging to the illusion that their efforts will somehow transcend their inevitable erasure? Are they drunk on a strange cocktail of validation, bravery, and denial? Deep down, unsatiated, stumbling forward while the rest of us watch with a mix of envy and disdain.

I've always found something suspiciously performative about these people—how they broadcast their ambition. It's particularly noticeable today, with follows and likes replacing applause. It's hard not to perceive their confidence at times as brittle, a facade masking the same existential dread we all feel but rarely admit. Their belief in themselves might be inspiring to some but can reek of desperation—a refusal to sit quietly with the uncomfortable truth that none of this matters.

Then again, perhaps these people aren't so different from the rest of us. They choose a different way to cope with insignificance: running toward it at full speed instead of sitting still and letting it wash over them. Whether that makes them admirable or pitiable isn't the point, and though I've shared my opinion, it's also not at all for me to say. Ultimately, no matter how high they climb, how loudly they proclaim their greatness, or how many people agree with their assessment, the stars will remain indifferent.

Or Is It Love

My muse for this post suggests that love lies at the heart of this behavior. It can be love for oneself, family, community, or a higher power. Love fuels joy, commitment, and passion. Pursuing greatness might be the ultimate act of self-love; it's the willingness to claim all you deserve. When you love yourself deeply, you refuse to let the world define who you are. Instead, you assert your worth and express how deserving of love you are. Sometimes, through a mix of individual trauma responses and sheer luck, the world quiets its judgment and zealously agrees.

If love is the snowflake that triggers the avalanche, contentedness is the carefully placed dam, retarding and diverting the snowfall. Perhaps what I struggle with the most is understanding how to love myself as profoundly as those who strive for greatness do.

Perhaps, to be continued.