In the Odyssey, Odysseus travels to the underworld and finds Achilles there, ruler of the dead. Achilles was the greatest warrior of the Trojan War, the man who chose a short life crowned with glory over a long one lived in quiet obscurity. He got exactly what he chose. His name has outlived empires.

But when Odysseus greets him, Achilles corrects him. He’d rather be a poor man’s servant, alive and working someone else’s land, than rule over all these lifeless souls. The choice that made him immortal in memory is the one he regrets.

For centuries we’ve inherited that choice as if it were the only one: burn bright and be remembered, or live long and be forgotten. But that’s a false binary, and history is full of people who prove it.

Barack Obama has lived a long, full life: fame, family, purpose, setbacks, second acts.

Aretha Franklin sang for six decades and became a voice woven into the world’s memory without sacrificing her life to get there.

Fred Rogers spent thirty-some years talking deeply and quietly to children on a small set and became one of the most trusted people in America.

None of them chose between living well and being remembered. They lived well, and remembrance followed.

And then there are the ones who were handed Achilles’s exact bargain — glory now, or an ordinary life — and said no on purpose.

Years ago I had the chance to work with an important company and a powerful person. The condition was that I hold certain biases in how I interviewed candidates. I believed then, and believe now, that anyone from any culture or background can do the job if they’re qualified. I turned it down. Not because I calculated it would pay off later, but because saying yes would have betrayed the people in front of me, and myself.

That’s the starting point, and it’s simpler than it sounds: a fair, kind, and good life. Not goodness as an abstraction. Goodness as how you treat the person across the table from you, whether your work is honest, whether you can live with what you did to get what you have. It’s harder to sustain than a moment of glory is to seize. You will do it on ordinary days when no one is watching, and no epic gets written.

Achilles thought he had two doors. We don’t have to walk through either one. Start with being fair, kind, and good, and let being remembered (if it comes) be the byproduct, not the price.

Thanks – Michael (he, him)

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This is also related – A Body for Justice.

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