What if greatness was never the point?
At 28, Ravi had three degrees, a six-figure salary, and a résumé sharp enough to slice through any boardroom door. On paper, he had arrived. But inside, something felt off. Sleep came in fragments. The applause he once craved now rang hollow. The days moved fast, but nothing moved him.
Each morning, he sat alone on a park bench with a black coffee and a buzzing mind. One day, an older man sat beside him, casually scattering breadcrumbs to pigeons. They sat without speaking for a while.
“I used to think I was meant to change the world,” the man said, brushing crumbs from his lap. “Turns out I was meant to enjoy it.”
Ravi managed a small laugh. Then, unexpectedly, he cried.
The Myth of Exceptionalism
We are raised in a culture that worships the exceptional. Be brilliant. Be original. Be the best. Anything less is forgettable.
This belief seeps in early—through school trophies, college admissions, startup pitches, and social media highlight reels. “Average” becomes a slur, a fate to be feared. We equate worth with standing out, forgetting that standing still—really being present—might be life’s most radical act.
But what if the pursuit of greatness is quietly breaking us?
The Toll of Always Reaching
In 2017, a landmark study by psychologists Thomas Curran and Andrew Hill found a steep rise in perfectionism among young adults—driven, in part, by societal pressures to achieve and impress. The result? Increased anxiety, depression, and burnout.
We chase success hoping it will bring us peace, but the chase becomes the problem. The faster we run, the more distant “enough” feels. The soul, it turns out, does not respond to metrics.
Spiritual traditions have long warned against this trap. Taoism calls it wu wei—non-striving, the art of effortless alignment with life. The Bhagavad Gita urges action without attachment to results. Mystics speak of surrender not as weakness, but as wisdom.
We already know this in our bones. We just forget.
The Quiet Power of the Ordinary
There is deep power in choosing the ordinary—consciously, lovingly, without shame.
British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott coined the term “good enough mother,” arguing that perfection is neither necessary nor helpful. What nurtures a child is presence, not flawlessness. The same is true for living: a “good enough” life can be a deeply meaningful one.
Feeding the birds. Making tea. Sitting with a friend who doesn’t need fixing. These moments don’t make headlines, but they make a life.
A Different Kind of Liberation
We are not here to impress the world. We are here to touch it—gently, genuinely. Sometimes that means stepping off the podium and into the moment.
As spiritual writer Thomas Merton said, “There is no need to justify your existence. You are already justified.” What if we stopped trying to earn our place on this earth? What if being here—really here—was the point all along?
Maybe average was never mediocrity. Maybe it was freedom in disguise.
Ravi’s Ritual
Ravi still works, still earns. But he let go of the ladder. He takes longer walks. He calls his sister every week, even when there’s no news to share.
And he still visits that bench.
The old man never came back. But Ravi brings bread now. Not to feed pigeons—but to remember.
Because sometimes, the most extraordinary thing you can do is live a deeply ordinary life, on purpose.