competition's curse
I live in a world where many people are preoccupied with their performance. Preoccupied to the point of drawing their personal worth from their performance, or making a conclusion about their inherent goodness or badness therefrom. And I'm also a victim. Having attended a prestigous university, and continuing to live and work nearby, I've had plenty of opportunity to interact with people who have been told (and an environment that confirms) that they have to be the best in whatever they do, that all respect and value has to be earned. Does this sound too nebulous?
Well, that's because it is nebulous. After all, what do these people need to actually be the best at? It can be anything and it can be everything. I can give you some examples from my life. And of course I recognize that this will be highlighting my personal insecurity, but if you can't do that anonymously on a website, where can you do it? If you know me or have explored this website enough, you may know that I play the bass guitar. And I'm not half bad. If I got in with the right band I'm confident I could be a professional musician, but I'm no Victor Wooten. I couldn't make it on my own. Most of my opportunities to play publicly occur at my church. And there were a couple of years where I had been told, "You're the best bass player this church has ever had." That kind of thing feels good and feeds this performance mentality. And it is certainly easy to get security from a statement like that. Anyway, there had always been more than one bassist - the bands need to switch off.
But at some point, there was a new guy on the other band, and he was way ahead of me technically. The first time I saw him play I just watched him with a sinking heart the whole time. I couldn't concentrate on the words of worship. I just kept thinking how hopeless it was for me to ever surpass his technical skill. And this is the crux of the issue. By seeing someone "better" than me, the foundation upon which I'd architectured my security becomes unstable. All of a sudden there is a new burden: a burden to make or prove myself to be better than this new challenge.
And this truly removes the pleasure of the activity. What I once enjoyed for its own sake becomes a doorway to what I define as a failure, and a challenge to maintain my position. It's the difference between lying on a float in a pool and treading water with a lead belt on. In fact, I experienced this yet again very recently.
Again, if you've explored this website you might know that I like to take pictures. Again, you could tell with a few glances that I'm no professional, but sometimes I get some good shots. Anyway, a few days ago I found out that a coworker of mine is also into photography. It turns out we actually have the same camera (Canon Rebel XTi DSLR - fine piece of equipment for the aspiring amateur), and we both have Flickr pages (mine is here). I went to her page and looked through her most interesting photos. It was a truly humbling experience. It's easier to say someone is so much better than me at something and never to have to meet that person. But to know someone seems very different to me. After viewing her pictures, I again felt a burden. A burden that now I have to go out and work hard to take better pictures, and be more creative, and... it didn't sound like fun anymore.
Recognizing this fact seems to be half the battle. But there is still a curse when I have to compete - and win! - in order to feel good about myself. Certainly there are people who have gotten over this. People who understand grace and understand their own amazing value to God and how much others love them - not despite any shortcomings, but regardless of any shortcomings. That's where I'm trying to go. And it's a process, not a project.
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