By 
Mother Theresa couldn’t dunk for shit. She didn’t make amazing cupcakes. She would have gotten booted the fuck off of The Voice. She couldn’t do anything.
And yet, she’s Mother Theresa. She’s one of the most well known people of the last century despite not having any talents to speak of. She was like an old Indian Kardashian (without the ass injections…I assume). You know who she is, and that she changed the world and the lives of millions* despite being a totally mediocre hip hop dancer, and having no Instagram presence.
And why? Above all else, because she was ambitious.
*(Before you douchebags comment, I’m aware of the many arguments that Mother Theresa actually sucked. It’s irrelevant to the greater point I’m making. She’s just an example. Please put your “actuallys” back in their holsters and read on.)
Ambition comes in many forms. For many of our parents, that ambition was to find stable employment, to not be quite as miserable as their parents, and to give us great, easy lives. Like many generations before them, we were their feeble little attempt at eternal life.
Many in the younger generation are also ambitious, but decidedly not in that way.
“Dude, fuck that. I’m not going to be stuck at a desk for forty years while my soul disintegrates and my wages stagnate. I’m going to make it big. I’m going do something real. I’m going to change the world…you know, somehow.”
Because so many confirmed idiots are famous, fame feels attainable. Because wages at real jobs have stagnated so drastically, fame feels necessary. Because divorce happens all the time, fame (and the fans that come with it) feels like the only surefire way to not die alone. And because all of that sucks, we feel like we need to be famous so that we can change all of it.
Fame is the new security.
So the urge to settle down, be stable, and procreate has therefore largely been replaced by the urge to stand out. We want to be known by strangers. We want to change the world. We want–desperately–to matter.
Which is a nicer way of saying we’re a bunch of little fucking assholes who want to be the center of the universe.
But that’s not all bad. After all, wanting to change the world (presumably for the better) is one of our better instincts as people, and because it’s a great way to stand out, it’s more common than ever. It’s a great thing to have that motivation. Please use it.
But be careful, because there’s a good chance you’re currently using it in a totally stupid way.
The “Using My Talents” Fallacy
Because our drive above all else is based in standing out, we sometimes we make a big mistake in our thinking–that in order to change the world, that we need to be amazing at something. We need to use our specific talents to make a huge difference. We need to do something nobody else could have done.
We need an earth-saving business idea, or to be amazing singers that sing about politics, or to develop an iPhone that farts a cherry scent with proceeds that go to AIDS orphans–something big, fat, and unique to us to hang our hat on.
This is bad for a couple of reasons. First off, most people aren’t talented enough to become famous for the thing they’re good at. If you’re reading this, you’re almost definitely not good enough to get there, or at the very least, you won’t get lucky enough for it to happen. Don’t worry though. That becomes completely fine the very second you decide it’s completely fine.
The second problem is that focusing on and cultivating what you’re great at/what you love is fine, but if your primary goal is to change the world, it’s extremely inefficient. It’s like if someone asks you to cook an omelet, and you reply, “Okay hang on. I’m going to figure out how I can use my juggling to cook your omelet, since juggling is what I really love to do. So sit tight. Your omelet will be ready in just like, seven years.”
The fact of the matter is that no protest song, no normal job, and no film you make in a back yard with your friends will make anywhere near the same impact as you just going out and doing shit to help out right fucking now.
So because we want to stand out, we have to reconcile that logic with how we feel. “Sure there are other ways to change the world, but if those ways don’t prove how special I am, what good are they?”
If you’re like me, and this is your thought process, then congratulations. You’re also an asshole.
I tell people that I want my writing to change the world–that I want to alter perspectives and spread critical thinking. But if my focus is really on changing the world, I could do that without writing a single letter. I could volunteer at a shelter, or join the peace corps, or start my own charity. Instead of trying to find a way to make doing what I love the thing that changes the world, I could work directly towards things that actually are proven to change the world–that is, I could if I weren’t an egotistical prick.
This is where we go wrong. We approach life with the idea that it’s talent that makes us special, but it’s not. It’s action. It’s always action. It has never not been action.
The fact of the matter is that we don’t need special abilities to stand out and to make a difference. We simply need to do things that are special. And to answer the question I posed above–how would that make me special? The answer is simple: Anyone can dedicate their lives to helping people, but very few people do. That makes them special.
The key is the Mother Theresa model. Just do helpful things, regardless of what you think you’re great at, and you will, on some level, stand out.
Making an impact on the world isn’t actually hard. You don’t have to be talented and you don’t have to take a huge risk. You don’t have to have a sharp wit, or run a 4.2 forty. You just have to go out there and lend your hands to make things better.
We don’t have to try to convince ourselves that our screenplay, or our band, or our audio engineering is going to impact the world, which is good, because that saves us years of training in mental gymnastics.
Four Selfish Benefits to Doing Good
1) You’ll actually like yourself!
You know that one thing you do? You know, where you try change the unchangeable and then get pissed off when you can’t? You know, the thing where you try to be prettier, smarter, more talented, and more famous, and then you fail and hate yourself?
Yeah, you don’t have to do that. There are easier ways to not hate yourself.
In fact, if you blow all of that off, and just dedicate your life to helping people who need it, I promise you’ll like yourself more. You won’t worry so much about your popularity, or your car, or your frienemy envying your Insta, because you’ll instead be constantly wrapped up in things that actually matter, and that will be way, way more fulfilling than crying because your face can’t keep up with all of Kim’s surgery.
2) You can get more dumb attention!
And if, in spite of number 1, you still find yourself worrying about the attention you get on social media, good news! You now have a great way to get it! Constantly post about the work you do and how happy it makes you. Others will have to throw you Likes out of obligation, no matter how irritating they find you to be! You’ll be more popular than the hot girl casually mentioning how much she loves the beach!
(If any single part of you took that seriously, good for you for finding that motivation, and also I hope you die.)
3) You can be competitive, but in a way that isn’t stupid!
You know how you feel like a failure because you compare yourself in ways that don’t matter to people you don’t like for reasons you don’t really understand?
Yeah, you don’t have to do that either.
But you also don’t have to lose your competitive spirit or your drive. You can compete with others around you to see who can feed more people, or rescue more refugees, or give more drumsets to underprivileged kids (you know, if you want to help the world, but not really).
Use your desire to stand out, to do more good than anybody else around you, and then let that smug sense of self-satisfaction seep in through your pores. You’ve earned it, buddy.
4) You have a better chance at being remembered this way.
Your chances of hitting it big while changing the world are fucking tiny. The Mother Theresas, Elon Musks, and Bill Gates’ of the world are few and far between.
But changing the world without being a global sensation? That happens all the time. The world runs on people like that. Humanity probably still exists because of people like that–because enough people decided, “I don’t want to be a douche.”
But while you may not know a lot of these behind-the-scenes world changers, the people around them do. They make a direct impact on the lives of those they help. They are remembered and beloved and revered in their circles.
You’ll almost definitely never become a global sensation, but you can–ACTUALLY HERE IN REALITY–be someone’s Warren Buffett, or Beyonce, or (if your taste kinda blows), Katy Perry.
I’m not delusional enough to think you’re going to go full Mother Theresa after reading this, but you could start doing more than you are. You could start to direct your ambition and your desire to make a difference towards–I don’t know–actually making a difference.
This could mean doing, or donating to charity work. It could also mean calling your congressman, or listening to people who have problems, or bringing cookies to sick children (uh, I guess healthy cookies), or going out of your way to be kind to weirdos.
This could be a great solution for you, because just to remind you: you’re probably not that talented. That’s okay. I’m not in most ways myself. Most of us aren’t. It’s easy to feel like this means that you’re destined to fade into humanity’s background–that you’re destined to be a nobody, and to never change a single life.
But you’re not. You’re not destined to do anything…ever. Your future is a choice you’re making every second you’re alive.
You don’t have to be special in the way you planned. You have an opportunity to be special in a new, way more amazing way. You can be way more important, way more kickass, and way more life-changing than you’re currently planning to be.
You can be a superhero–but only after you accept that you don’t need super powers.
