Rebecca Solnit on FBOOK:
Kareem Abdul Jabbar is a beautiful and wise person. He describes one of the basic principles of unenvious non-competition, of generous living, that could apply to so much in life. “In the months leading up to LeBron breaking my record, so much was written about how I would feel on the day he sank that record-breaking shot that I had to laugh. I’d already written several times stating exactly how I felt so there really wasn’t much to speculate about. It’s as if I won a billion dollars in a lottery and 39 years later someone won two billion dollars. How would I feel? Grateful that I won and happy that the next person also won. His winning in no way affects my winning.” Can we call this a zen dunk?
This is what the world looks like when you think in terms of abundance rather than scarcity, when you can be happy for others’ gifts, successes, and joys. There are board games and card games and team games in which you having more is predicated on the other party having less, but in life someone else being beautiful or happy or loved, well – I wrote in A Field Guide to Getting Lost: “Or maybe there’s one thing to say, about the capitalism of the heart, the belief that the essences of life too can be seized and hoarded, that you can corner the market on confidence, stage a hostile takeover of happiness. It’s based on scarcity economics, the notion or perhaps the feeling that there’s not enough to go around, and the belief that these intangible phenomena exist in a fixed quantity to be scrambled for, rather than that you can only increase them by giving them away.” Records are tangible, of course, but being the greatest, the most–you don’t need to cling to that forever.
Oh yeah, and I met him at a book thing in 2016 and he was lovely in person too. I got to give him our brand new Nonstop Metropolis: A New York City Atlas, with its great maps of the Bronx, Harlem, and the basketball courts of Brooklyn among its offerings, thanks to the genius of co-editors Joshua Jelly-Schapiro and Garnette Cadogan, among others (our team included about 50 people).
His essay about generosity and records and values is at the link, and here’s a bit more of it: And, if someone had broken my record within ten years of me setting it, he would probably be right. I might have hobbled out of retirement just to add a few more points on my record.
But that ain’t me today. I’m 75. The only time I ever think of the record is when someone brings it up. I retired from the NBA 34 years ago. For the past 20 years, I’ve occupied myself with social activism, my writing career, and my family—especially my three grandchildren. If I had a choice of having my scoring record remain intact for another hundred years or spend one afternoon with my grandchildren, I’d be on the floor in seconds stacking Legos and eating Uncrustables.