Greatness

This weekend, in celebration of a famous local violinist, there was a music festival centered around the violin. Friday night I went to the philharmonic and stood in the back watching. Things like orchestras and plays excite me to no end. There's a beauty there that most art forms don't have. While there are the lead players in each production, there's a certain social equality and dependency that few people lack the courage to have these days. The best Willie Loman could walk on stage, but if the guys in light and sound aren't on their marks, that flaw is all people notice. A crash or a screeching violin means that dozens of people's perfection is ruined. You could ruin them. They could ruin you. And yet, people do it. People live for it.

That fear of failure could make people not play their best, not try and not care. I'm sure some do just that and glide through. The production is weaker for it, but people aren't necessarily sure why. It's the safe way out. It's the coward's way. I see a woman in the third row of violins nearly hidden. She could just be going through the motions, but she's loving every minute and playing her heart out. Her work is so much more stunning than the soloist's. She's not playing for me. She's playing for herself. She doesn't seek recognition for her work, she's just adding as much as she can to make music as beautifully as she can make it. People like her are rare. People want to be soloists and leaders. They want to be The Voice. The bravery and dedication and fortitude and love and loyalty of a good crew member is harder to find than a willing and able captain. I look at this woman and I do not see ego. I see belief. I see faith and love. I see that she is not gloating in her gift, but succumbing to it. Giving it as completely as possible.

Orchestras and plays have dozens of people and thousands of possibilities for the production to be chipped away at or destroyed by flaws. Few today write for those willing to risk it in those arts. They want to control the product, get to say "cut," have no one ruin it for them. They want the final word and they miss out. We do too. We miss the art. We miss the greatness and excitement that can only be produced by a dedicated team working in concert - leaning, depending, believing, risking.

We all want to lead our armies of one or to be The Great One, but some want to be a part of something greater, whatever part they can play. From these people, not from those pretend armies, greatness appears.

I haven't seen greatness outside of the theater in a long, long time.