Learning to define yourself by what you like rather than by what you do not
The comedian Tim Minchin once gave a commencement address at the University of Western Australia, wherein one of his bits of wisdom was that young people should avoid defining themselves simply by what they dislike. He implored them to champion the things they were passionate about, as too many young people think it’s not cool to try, or be seen as trying, lest they look weak or eager.
I heard the actor Will Arnett on a podcast the other day, saying that when he was starting, he found himself in constant fear of getting “caught trying.” That if things didn’t come easily, one shouldn’t bother, because we might end up looking foolish should we ever falter. That it was better to have quiet disdain for your craft than unbridled excitement, more cynicism than hope, lest you be found to care, an obvious weakness.
This is, unfortunately, quite common, but also monumentally stupid, and the sooner you correct this behavior, the happier, more successful, and better off you’ll be
When we celebrate the things we like, the stuff we’re passionate about, we open ourselves to criticism and ridicule, becoming vulnerable, at least in our minds. What we miss is that it’s the same vulnerability that invites empathy and encourages aspirational thinking. If you’re passionate about something, knowledgeable, articulate, and thoughtful, it’s more than likely to be interesting to other people, because we are attracted to passion more than attitude. It’s why we show such adoration for celebrities we believe to be humble and kind, and turn on those who claim hubris as a point of pride and position.
I could spend all day, every day, raging about all the fucked up things in the world, which unfortunately, I regularly do. While I am not necessarily wrong to do so, as there is a horrific shit going on in the world, how will that ever result in a better one? I’ve written in the past about the importance of making art in trying times, but I think it’s even more important to create art that inspires, and not just that reflects our shortcomings.
To Kill A Mockingbird shone a light on the institutional bigotry of America and the injustice rampant in our justice system, but also championed a different kind of hero that was intent on presenting a better way we hadn’t heard before. Each of us becomes Scout, learning valuable lessons from Dill and Jem, Calpurnia and Tom, Mr. Ewell and Atticus.
They are not all positive lessons, but each is instructive in its own way, and we are left with a clear understanding of right and wrong, even though it might be different than how we began. We are the ones transformed, because Scout is transformed, and that is the gift of the book. Atticus’s strength of character is based, at least in part, on his intransigence to accept a moral injustice, at least within the confines of the law. Most of the characters remain unchanged, but we trust that Scout will never be the same, just as we hope that we will forever be changed.
It’s possible to champion the things we like, the parts of life we find valuable, while still calling out the aspects we believe need dramatic change. There’s a difference between trashing deep-dish pizza, simply because it doesn’t happen to be your particular cup of tea, and expressing revulsion over the rise of fascist authoritarianism. I would never go so far as you say that if you can’t say something nice, it’s best to say nothing at all, but it’s not a bad place to begin. Think about it, at least.
Champion the things you enjoy and ignore the stuff that might cause you to rely on a bit of unnecessary cultural chauvinism. If no one is forcing you to do it and it has no effect on your life, maybe don’t worry about it. Unless you can make it funny, then by all means, blast the shit out of it. It can’t just be funny to you. It has to be funny to those you’re making fun of, or it’s simply mockery, ridicule, or worse.
There’s no legitimate excuse for cruelty.
In that same graduation speech, Minchin rejected the idea of having a dream, as so many Americans on talent shows talk about, but instead advocated for the passionate pursuit of short-term goals. “Be micro-ambitious,” he implored. “Put your head down and work with pride on whatever is in front of you.”
He went on to decry the pursuit of long-term goals because more often than not, your real opportunities will be found on the periphery of where you are, and if you’re looking too far down the road, you’ll miss them.
I’m a big fan of this kind of advice, especially at this point in time, when we are constantly being told that our problems are too big, outside of our ability to fully grasp, and apathy has become our religion. I have often been guilty of feeling helpless, and it’s a terrible feeling.
I’d argue that it’s worth thinking smaller, not larger, if you want to solve big problems. I describe my job as that of a storyteller, and I often advise my corporate clients to concentrate on telling a big story by telling a lot of little stories, the smaller ones being more easily digestible with a better chance of retention. You don’t begin a book by trying to tell the complete history of man. You tell a story about a guy who did a thing, and then you tell another one.
They say that the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, and I think it’s the way you change the world. One person at a time, doing small things. Even snowflakes, with enough of them joining forces, become more powerful than armies.
It’s hard for me to separate personal success from the structural deficiencies of our economy and the great inequality that is threatening to destroy us. Forget anything as petty or minor as tribal partisanship. I’m talking about inequities that only ever end in war, famine, or revolution.
Without question, Democrats have acted in better faith than the Republicans, but both parties are to blame for our current predicament. They allowed, encouraged, and even facilitated the siphoning off of all the wealth built by the middle class in the previous century, leaving us in an untenable position where catastrophe seems the only logical conclusion.
I am ready to put politics aside as an ineffectual tool for change and begin thinking about inducing a great awakening of the masses, as we begin to think of ourselves as more than disposable human tools whose only purpose is to provide wealth for others. I don’t think of this as a political idea, but a humanistic one.
Rather than deciding what it is we don’t want, maybe we could begin with what we do want. This is my list of biggies: A living wage, affordable housing, healthy food to eat, clean water, a public healthcare system, a criminal justice system that seeks actual public safety, an education system that supports youth development, and a government that exists to serve the people. It’s not hard for me to imagine any of that because when I was growing up, that’s what I thought we had. I’m embarrassed at how naive I was, but I don’t believe it’s an unrealistic ideal.
I was listening to Scott Galloway talk over the holidays, and he said something that stuck with me. Essentially, that there is no good end-game for the level of wealth being accumulated by the top 1%. Eventually, the 90% who are suffering are going to realize that the best way to immediately double their wealth is to simply kill or exile the oligarchs and take their shit. As my father used to say, “Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”
Artistically and personally, I’m prepared to focus on writing, fitness, cooking, and human connection. It’s occurred to me that I might volunteer my time to mentor young men, who might just be the most vulnerable population in the country, despite the common belief that men shouldn’t exist. Kindness, compassion, generosity, and patience, rather than greed, jealousy, anger, and fear. A micro-ambitious pursuit of the short-term goal of consuming an entire elephant with a little more joy and lust for life.
Bon appetite.
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