In Praise of Mediocrity

 

It takes many long hours

Of practice and dedication,

The shame of not knowing,

The sacrifice of other joys

 

To become mediocre –

Which is to say, not bad.

How long were we bad?

Most of us, our whole lives.

 

In fact, most of us are not even bad.

I’m not a bad flautist,

Because I can’t play at all.

I don’t have bad Spanish, but close to no Spanish,

Even though I can order tacos

And thank the girl who brings them,

Who must be all of twelve

But is admirably professional.

 

So badness is an achievement,

And mediocre is better than that.

Mediocre is proficient,

Even passably deft,

And often good enough

To contribute to excellence;

In fact, nothing truly excellent

Can exist without it at all.

 

Is this why we spurn mediocrity?

Because we so often fall short of it?

Or do we think we’re too good

For all the steps in between?

 

No one achieves greatness

Without passing through mediocrity,

Which is a barren, thankless country,

Poorly signposted, filled with dead ends;

 

The wayside is littered

With the bodies of good people

Who died before reaching

The superb grace of that twelve-year-old girl.