I have to make an effort about things like going to the grocery

When Mike Patton proclaims, “I have to make an effort about things like going to the grocery store. That stuff reminds me that I don’t live in the real world, and you know what? I’m thankful,” he reveals a paradox of the artist’s life. Fame, creativity, and a world devoted to art can lift one above the ordinary, but they also create a distance from the daily rhythms that most people inhabit. In this statement, Patton shows gratitude not for grandeur, but for the small rituals that tether him back to reality. It is a reminder that greatness can be both isolating and grounding, and that even the simplest acts can become holy when they return us to balance.

The mention of the grocery store is powerful in its simplicity. For many, it is a mundane task, often dreaded. Yet for Patton, it becomes a sacred reminder of his distance from the “real world.” His recognition suggests that the ordinary is not to be despised, but honored. In the clash between the extraordinary life of the artist and the daily rituals of the common man, he finds a tension that grounds him. And instead of rejecting this tension, he embraces it with thankfulness, for it teaches him humility.

History knows of others who recognized the value of the ordinary amid greatness. Consider Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who ruled over vast lands yet wrote in his Meditations about the importance of simple duties and discipline. Or think of Albert Einstein, whose mind traveled among the stars but who delighted in everyday tasks, like playing the violin for friends or walking to work. In each, as in Patton, there is wisdom in remembering that the extraordinary must be anchored by the ordinary lest it float away into emptiness.

Patton’s statement also reflects the burden of those who live apart from the real world. Fame can create distance, isolating the artist from the struggles and routines of ordinary life. Yet instead of lamenting this distance, Patton acknowledges it and seeks to bridge it through intentional effort. By stepping into the grocery store, he reenters the rhythm of humanity, experiencing the grounding truth that he, too, must walk among others, choose his bread, and carry his own weight. His thankfulness is the acknowledgment that such reminders preserve his humanity.

There is humility here, for he could resent the inconvenience, yet he chooses to reframe it as a blessing. Gratitude transforms even the smallest acts into teachers. The grocery store, the standing in line, the shared human frustrations—all of these become lessons that remind him of who he is beneath the spotlight. In this way, Patton embodies the wisdom that greatness is not diminished by humility but strengthened by it.

The teaching for us is clear: do not scorn the ordinary. The tasks of daily life—the errands, the chores, the simple efforts—are not distractions from greatness; they are the soil that nourishes it. To forget them is to lose touch with reality, but to honor them is to remain whole. As Patton shows, even when life sets you apart, it is wise to return to these simple acts and be thankful for the grounding they provide.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: embrace the effort of the small things. Find thankfulness not only in triumphs but in the errands that remind you of your humanity. For the man who can walk both in the extraordinary and the ordinary, who can sing upon the stage and yet push a cart through the market with gratitude, is the one who lives most fully. Let this be your guide: greatness without humility is hollow, but greatness rooted in the ordinary becomes eternal.