I used to be a driven and competitive guy.
Back in grade school, I was well taught, by my mother mostly, to be all that I could be. Study hard, get good grades, share your talents, be a leader, read books, all of which I strived hard for and became.
Somewhere along the way, I came to read about Renaissance men. Men who pretty much were good at everything and it became my early mission then -- to be good at everything. Haha, looking back now, I laugh because I know of the impossibility of such a task, but I smile because I gave it one heck of a try.
Look at Van Gogh, Galileo, Paul Robeson -- all of them excelled in sports, the academe, music, arts, theater, science -- name it, they had their hand on all those fields. John F. Kennedy made a reference to Thomas Jefferson's excellence when he was honoring Nobel Prize Laureats at the White House saying "This is the greatest collection of talent and genius ever to set foot in the White House, except the time when Thomas Jefferson dined alone."
So here I am, I had good grades all the way through college, I play and write music on piano and a little on guitar and forgot those 2 violin lessons I had in grade school, I wrote in my school publications, I love reading, I am working my way to becoming the best doctor I can be, I love singing and gathered the guts to sing in front of people back in college, still have some moves left on the dance floor, won some photojournalism awards back in high school, play pretty much every sport there is from basketball to street hockey and even tried a bit of in-line skating back in the day. The interests are as varied as they come from movies to scripts, to books, to literature. Heck I even know that the most common cause of death of beavers is being squashed by a falling tree.
Thus the phrase "Jack of all trades, master of none" comes to mind.
It was some time during college that I realized, I didn't have one thing that I'm especially good at. (Lots of people would argue the same thing) Ok, rephrasing that, I didn't have anything to identify myself with.
Many were way better than me at basketball (My career peaked when I was in elementary), so many others were better speakers, better writers, better thinkers, and ultimately better people. I felt too much pressure to do well.
There, I realized the impossibility of being good at everything and that being marginally known for a lot of things isn't all it was cracked up to be.
I cut down on all those activities that I used to be involved in -- I refused to enter college student politics, wrote just once in a while to the university's publication, listened to my own music more, and treaded down a path that wasn't all to clear to me -- that of being a physical-therapist-who-didn't-want-to-go-abroad-so-eventually-has-to-become-a-doctor route.
Don't think for a minute that I was any less competitive or any less happy. I entered in music competitions (which Ver usually mentions in any conversation about music with me around), and retained my love for sports (I usually am the first to celebrate the first whistle of intramurals). I was just happier, not having to try so hard anymore, but knowing deep inside me that I could do it.
Today, I know myself in the sense that I want to be a doctor, I love music, I love sports (How about 'dem Deeeetroit Pistons? Hopefully we'll get to the conference finals and beat Dr. MFU's Boston Celtics and claim the Larry O'Brien Trophy once again).
The years have mellowed me, I guess. I still have the drive to be good but today, I do it for me. I still compete but I choose not with others but with myself. Not so much wanting always to come out on top, but knowing you did good; and not so much wanting to BE the BEST but BE AMONG them. (It helps when you have someone who is infinitely far wiser and better than you, and I have that).
Renaissance men have come and gone in this world and if I am remembered as one then so be it, just as long as I did it on my own terms.
The painting above is George Mullen's artistic interpretation and appropriately titled Renaissance Man
On stage at last, Ver.
