<p>Look, dear Grasshopper, I meant *over-*thinking. Pondering your navel, my mom used to call it. Writing in a grandiose way that satisfies (oh, yeah,) but obscures the message. Making it too hard for others to connect, losing onesself in the process or style or big, intended results, rather than making that connection with the next guy, doing what you can.</p>
<p>The shame is in neglecting to help a neighbor, because it’s just one person. Not volunteering because it’s just a soup kitchen, just a Saturday effort, not a lifetime devoted, no larger acclaim associated with your name. </p>
<p>Ved Mehta’s book on Gandhi is short and menorable- the man achieved greatness, sure, but you’d be surprised by his idiosyncracies and what consumed him in his off-time. Mother Theresa worked one child at a time. The nurses who tended my mom left me with extraordinary respect for their commitment and kindness. </p>
<p>My mom, btw, used to look at some of those “great” names and mutter something about how they might just be lousy parents. Or worse, behind the facade. None of us know our destiny but the kind thing is to get started. “Large oaks from little acorns grow.”</p>
<p>Humility helps. Somewhere in all the world’s great religions, there’s a message to get out and do some good, without the self-aggrandizement.</p>