“Not gifted with genius, but honestly holding his experience deep in his heart, he kept his humanity and simplicity.”
I read that quote many years ago in Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind (1990). She attributes those words to Nanao Sakaki, who translated the work of a Japanese haiku master named Issa in a book called, Inch by Inch (Tooth of Time Books, 1985).
Applewood
That quote was whirling in my head all through lunch yesterday, which we had with Julius’ friend Anna Maria Carasso at Applewood Restaurant on 11th Street in Park Slope. Anna Maria said that she’d read a book called Harlot’s Ghost (1991) by Norman Mailer.
Harlot's Ghost
She said it was the greatest book she’d ever read on the inner workings of the CIA. It’s over 1,400 pages long too.
I sat there thinking, How did Mailer do it all? His writing had such intense passion and he wrote on such a vast range of subjects. He won two Pulitzer Prizes and one National Book Award while living a (rich but…) bohemian life, bested only by Hunter S. Thompson. He started The Village Voice. And the successes kept showing up ever since his early twenties.
“He must have been such a smart guy to do all that,” I thought to myself. To me, this is due less to hard work than fate. Was he destined to be so prolific and prodigious? Why else was he born with such mammoth talent and such a high IQ?
Then I asked myself, “Why are some people born with genius while others have to train day and night to achieve a fraction of what a genius achieves?” It was my good ole Salieri Complex, the author’s scourge, kicking in.
Some people say that, if you’re not the best in your business (or art), don’t even bother putting your product on the market.
But then I countered that elitism and asked myself, “Shouldn’t those without the same level of talent of a Mozart or a Norman Mailer still train day and night and put their work out there, regardless? Shouldn’t they still do something with their skills – or at least their hopes and dreams – while they’re still alive?”
Richard Price - Lush Life
By turns, I’ve been reading Richard Price’s novel Lush Life. His main character, Eric Cash, turns around one day to find himself 35 years old and still just an aspiring artist. (He has my utmost sympathy.) Then Price writes the following words, which I found positively heartbreaking:
[Cash] had no particular talent or skill, or what was worse, he had a little talent, some skill…and this unsatisfied yearning for validation was starting to make it near impossible for him to sit through a movie or read a book or even case out a new restaurant, all pulled off increasingly by those his age or younger, without wanting to run face-first into a wall.
Julius has heard me harp on this sentiment so many times, it’s a wonder he hasn’t wound up in a rubber room by now. But Julius also offered me one of the simplest and wisest prescriptions for this defeatist train of thought, “It’s just like what they tell you in swim meets: ‘Don’t spend even a tenth of a second looking at your competition or you’ll fall behind and lose the race.’” That’s a little touchstone of sagacity that I carry with me all the time now.
Tags: Applewood, Brooklyn, Nanao Sakaki, Natalie Goldberg, Norman Mailer, overachievers, Richard Price, underachievers
