I just watched Whiplash last night (writing this in October 2026). I enjoyed it.
The moral is one I've pondered a few times: we collectively celebrate greatness, but prefer to avert our eyes from the process of becoming great.
Becoming great is horrible, every day. You have to bleed and sweat and cry and torture yourself, as the movie shows so well.
We want to think we can have greatness without the awful parts, but you can't. You can have good, good enough, with no suffering, but do we want to live in a world where we only get to good in every direction?
This is very much on my mind as I am raising my two daughters. If I could wave a wand and cause them to want greatness, would I do it? Or is this a tragedy of the commons, where every parent is grateful for the existence of greatness but wouldn't wish it on their own children? Is this another example of us living in Omelas and not realizing it?
