To a giant, a torchbearer, a friend

JKS:

What is brilliance? Really? There's this assumption amongst those of us who are not brilliant that those endowed with this adjective ar the "lucky" ones. Our time together together forces me to scoff at this claim. Brilliance is not luck in any sense of the word. I do not mean that this quality has no genetic foundations, but that it is enflamed by a choice in life. A smart man chooses to be brilliant when he seeks to understand himself fully and further to crystallize this awareness with a perspiration that extends beyond mere work. Brilliance, I learned from you, is not a state of being; it is a lifestyle, a relentless pursuit of individual, and eventually universal, truth. It is, I dare say, a religion dedicated to the power of the mind.

Just as well, brilliance is not analogous to hitting some ephemeral jackpot. It ensurs a life of demands, of burdens, of late nights alone and tired. It is not easy. In this way it seems offensive to call your "fortune" mere luck. It was neither simply given to you nor shall it lead to a life a blissful comfort. If it were not for individuals such as yourself, we would still be picking bugs from one another's hair. WE are the lucky ones, your brilliance is a gift to US. Above all I am grateful for your existence, and reflect on our mutual influence as a point of great pride.

I, as you well recall, entered your world. I elbowed myself some room in a fellaheen cavern your particular band of suburbanites had claimed in the 'hood. Itching for acceptance, opportunistic, giddy at the chance to prove myself amongst a group that demanded so much from its members. Confident that I had something to offer in the way of a philosophy or an edict or at least some diasporic drum to beat as we fought off crackheads and swilled cheap beer. I wound up on the winning end, even with respect to your commentary, I feel I derived so much more from the experience than I contributed. I am who I am today because of my two years spent maximizing potential with you and your community.

People's fondest memories are often of cliched events that occur to one degree or another in everyone's life. Marriage, the birth of children, graduation from college (hold on, I'll come back to that one). Many of my fondest memories, and granted they are not all crystal clear, are of half-intoxicated conversations with yourself about the fundamental truths of life. We dug as deep as two young men could some of those nights, and although we were seldom unaided, I credit your relentlessness, your wit, and your disdain for convention. We left few stones unturned in those days, and even now as I come across new ones I question what your opinion might be. I have come, in my cynicism, to eschew what others might do; you being the sole exception.

There was always the sense that the chaos we held in our hands during those times was far too instable, far too beautiful to maintain itself. That there'd be some inevitable explosion sending many of us to far-flung lands to spread this vague and powerful gospel. It has indeed happened in the blink of an eye, and I attest that we're all gradually becoming the people we really are.

I can't say I was stridently criticized, but I've always felt the implication that I was too serious in my opinions and ambitions. Our friendship, based on an understanding steeped in the sort of all-encompassing scope I've always tried to think in, showed me an example that contradicted this creeping feeling. The most successful individual I knew was likewise one of the few individuals I felt matched or exceeded my seriousness. We all spend our lives trying to ignore the future, thus it is so rare too find someone simultaneously living ahead of us and thriving in this time. Your nod of approval to the occasional thing I've done has been more encouraging then the heaviest of compliments.

We'll keep in touch, on the fringes between doing our thing. Providing one another reports on the successes we're having, the ignorance we struggle with, the brand new things we create. So much is expected of you, sir, that the burden must be nearly overwhelming. I know that this is your optimal environment. There is not option of failure, it's not even mentioned; The question is how high will you fly? I expect nothing but the utmost, and in fact I think we may be doomed without it.

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As an aside and an afterthought I wanted to bring up a tiny little story from our recent past. Do you recall graduation day? The bullshit ceremony with self-entitle foreigners disrupting a half-assed ceremony. Remember how we took our families to dinner together, our folks with nothing to say to one another? There was a hugely symbolic moment there, somewhere between fending off a desperate crackhead while our parents tried to snap pictures and returning from yet another ceremony to wax in the sunlight and pack a celebratory bong. This may be a cliched event, but there was nothing stereotypical about that day or a million others. I will never forget it.