Arete

The moral virtue of arete is one that we're all familiar with - to an extent.  We're told to do our very best when we're children, and in essence, that's what arete is - living up to our fullest potential and doing the very best that we possibly can.  

At some point after entering my teen years, the whole "do you best" philosophy suddenly dissipated, and was replaced with "be the best."  I always struggled with this.  Back in those days, I thought was the best at everything I put in effort, because some things came naturally to me; I was lucky enough to be book smart and have common sense (which isn't always the case with the majority of people out there).  Whenever I tried really hard to do something, I succeeded; and if I wasn't the best, I knew I was one of the best.  

The real world - and time - has taught me a much different truth.  I am, in fact, not the best at everything.  Things simply wouldn't be handed to me because I tried.  Those things I assumed were skill?  Well, they were mostly luck and the very potential for talent, but without continually pushing myself to expand on those talents, they would take me nowhere.  And that's exactly where I ended up. 

So when arete came up for me in my exploration of Hellenismos, I wasn't too sure what to think about it.  On the one hand, I liked the idea of doing my best and not comparing myself to the achievements of others - something I still struggle with to this day.  But on the other, I learned a pretty harsh lesson, and I learned that once my confidence was taken down a notch, I didn't really have much in the way of muse in those areas that I formerly loved.  

Then I thought "if I loved doing those things so much, why would I let criticism stop me instead of fueling my desire to be the best?"
 

Well, here's the truth.  I liked to draw.  I may have even been good at it in high school.  But I went to an inner-city school where it was considered an achievement just to show up, and then transferred to a very small school where the total student population was less than the students in my class in the city school.  In both situations, there weren't many who were actually talented in art; and because I was somewhat good at it, I shone there.  

But I do not have the talent to make a go at it as an artist.  That's the reality of the situation.  I have a hard time handling heavy criticism, and I don't eat, breathe and live art.  I don't get those sudden flashes of inspiration and spend hours on a project obsessively.  I don't have the ability to pour out my emotions and put my heart and soul into a piece of art the way I would need to in order to actually make it.  That's not being pessimistic; that's accepting the truth about my own natural abilities.  

I want to let go of the "be the best" mentality, but it's incredibly hard.  I personally feel frustrated with myself and my situation, because I feel like I should be farther along than I am.  I always thought that if I was with someone for five years, we would be engaged if not married.  I figured by the time I was out of the house and on my own for six, going on seven years, I would be saving up for a house of my own rather than renting.  I thought I would have a job that paid well above minimum wage, perhaps a degree under my belt.  I figured I would have some cushioning by now, some savings.  Maybe not a child, but the possibility of having one.  And none of that happened.  

I have to ask myself: did I apply myself to those goals?  Did I just expect those things to fall in my lap?  If I'm truthful, then, yeah, I kinda did.  I always thought I'd figure things out along the way, and that luck would be on my side.  I don't know why luck would like me so much, but I feel like I've been incredibly lucky my whole life, so why expect anything different?  

The only thing I have ever consistently put energy into is my personal practice, and I'm still not where I want to be with that.  

After life kicked me down once I was out of high school, I managed to pick myself a bit, dust myself off, and, after a grieving period, picked up the pieces of my life.  When I worked I had a phrase I would say to myself all the time: "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right."  Sure, it was mostly a mantra when I was faced with cleaning the toilet at the gas station and tempted to cut corners, or when I managed to get away from the cash register at Kohl's to fold clothes or cover for an absent floor member, but the phrase was something I really believed in.  When I applied myself and did my best, I felt absolutely fantastic about myself and my situation.  Sure, I made crap money, lived off of primarily meatless spaghetti, ramen and hot dogs, and no, I couldn't even afford to live in a one bedroom apartment even with two jobs, but I felt liberated.  It was enough for me.  I was doing the best I possibly could in that given situation.  And that situation brought my loving boyfriend Justin to me.  

Somewhere along the way, I relaxed.  I stopped doing my best and living up to my fullest potential.  I stopped working on and doing a lot of things that were important to me.  Part of it was being stuck in a foreign environment that I never really came to love.  Some of it had to do with the adjustment period of having a serious relationship and figuring out how to maintain my own independence within the coupling.  A lot of it had to do with my own decisions.  

So yeah.  Arete.  It's time for me to really sit down and figure out how I can be the best version of me possible, within my limits.