trying is the new modus operandi
effort is the new currency
Celebrities set trends. They often speak into existence what’s of the moment, and we believe them; they’re the modern gods we turn to in times when the world is turning its closed, sleepy eyes into darker political cycles.
In late Feb this year, arms tucked neatly behind his back, clad in a Brat-esque green shirt tamed by a shiny, black blazer reminiscent of The Matrix, Chalamet declared that he was shamelessly ‘in pursuit of greatness’.
Uproar. Disdain. Cringe. Hear ye, hear ye, arrogance! It all came bubbling forth from the general public, creating a great divide. But no matter what side you fell on, there’s no denying that a turn of perception suddenly cornered on the wall of the culture and, like tulips, we turned our petaled faces to view the light: it’s cool to try.
In fact, trying and not caring about what others think is the new status symbol of contemporary living. To try is to attempt, is to put oneself out there and to do our very best. And to not hide it is to be unapologetic, to be daring and unhampered by foreign judgement. And what a turn of events this is, when just months ago nonchalance was the attitude of choice in today’s ballrooms of social settings.
Judging my shoes? Well, I’ll wear ugly ones (enter Crocs) — then you can hate them, and at the same time I’ll have meant for you to have felt so. You dislike my desire to pursue goals? Allow me to ironically claim that I’m ‘manifesting’ this new job. This video may flop so allow me to beat you to casting pity my way: I’ve added a cursed hand drawn sketch to the thumbnail.
Little by little, nonchalance has been the shield those noble have held, teaching others to do the same. But now, the tides are turning and the celebrities are speaking and side parts are returning and: to pursue greatness is to stay relevant (if you care about that).
For those of us feeble enough to care, or, rather, interested enough to be curious to dip both our feet into its turquoise waters, the idea of pursuing greatness, however, is quick to make one’s throat close up and sweat bead across one’s brow. How vulnerable. How risky, how deplorable, were we to publicly fail.
I broke my back trying when I wrote The Manifestation Diaries. My fingers bled1 from pressing the pen feverishly to paper for pages on end, my mind reeling from weaving unfinished sentences to phrases of completion whilst simultaneously processing new, informal lessons on ‘good’ writing. Condensing ideas explored over five years is no easy feat. Conciseness is a virtue paid for by unseen psychosis. When it’s on the house, genius has cast an apparition and bestowed its seamless message upon you. Take credit, or don’t. But here’s a hint: most of the greats didn’t. They just claimed themselves to be the vessel through which their art, their craft, seeped through.
Radiant they were, enough that their names stand out and bring to mind images of their work, their inventions, their prints on history’s timeline. But not all heroes have names engraved in the annals, for the definition of being a great is not necessarily to be known, but perhaps to simply have really shone.
Some modalities operate in such a way that those great in their field are projected like spotlights reaching visibility in the clouds, viewable to those who live even afar. Past the Hollywood Hills, we watch method actors on the screen, listen to the croons of singer-songwriters and admire the works of artists in souvenir form at nearby exhibitions. Others, however, function in suburban church halls, like musical recitals showcasing the little great ones playing their instruments with the deftness of cherubs. And we applaud them, still (maybe even more by virtue of locality and proximity).
Repetition, consistency, an ache in the bones to grab projects by their pointiest challenges and whirl them into momentum is what moves one from being good to great. And like the golden ones we both glorify and begrudge bedazzling your medium fries after a night out at 2am, you’ll create arches of success that flourish into M’s. M for magical, modest, and magnificent.
There will be hours only you and the sun will see; sometimes just the moon. Tears will be shed that the soil of your secondary and tertiary education won’t take up; rather they’ll be wiped by a lonely, calloused hand. The roughness is enough to stir us back to reality: get back up, bounce the ball, shoot for the heavens and dome colours across the sky on the way back to earth.
From a baroque view, each tear shed in the pursuit of greatness is an imperfect pearl, the essence of your greatest success yet to be. Greatness calls to us in places that we had no clue previously to pursue, begin or start in until now. Chase it anyway. Seize it by the tail and follow it up neatly. Wednesdays are for honing, toying, striving and Thursdays are for review. Come Monday, you’re ten steps ahead and the tiles of the path are starting to yellow.
So open up your wallet and tuck in more notes: of how to move forward, of how to make things happen. The new currency is effort. It’s candy crystal clear. Gone now are the days of coy and secret deliberation. Still, elegance, integrity and common sense sit in the room, let’s not forget. But your strives to move forward are now your flags of modern understanding. Break out a sweat and you’re one of the top one hundred. Let others see the stains on your chest, the paper cuts and bruises as you overcome rejection with experimentation. The world loves absurdity, and you’re full of it. Be unafraid to let it spill through your pores and curdle in the mixing pot that precedes laser-cut action.
Perhaps I speak only for myself when I say I’m enthusiastic towards the sentiment of ‘pursuing greatness’, not for the accolades, but to experience, accept the invitation and contribute to the collective determination already forming in the crust of the culture (there’s something uplifting about looking to your left and seeing someone understand this notion, too, and uniting in this translucent force). And of course, for the reward of the growth and journey onward.
Touché, Chalamet. Touché.
Purchase your very own copy of The Manifestation Diaries here.
This is hyperbole xx