One of my first exclamations at the beginning of the December break was, “Finally, I can choose what I read!” (N.B. This is not to say that I dislike my assigned readings; however, there is some pleasure to be taken in the liberty to employ one’s time with self-elected reading choices.) Yet, with this great freedom, comes great responsibility.

At the risk of revealing my inner nerdiness, I will explain why I utter such a seemingly exaggerated phrase. For me, reading is not simply a pastime to escape the routine of quotidian activities. Rather, a book allows one to delve into an entirely different time and place, surrounded by foreign and fascinating personalities. The complexities of the plot and the character development envelop me, encouraging understanding of a previously unknown world.

The reading choices I made for this break might seem peculiar. I indulged in Madeleine Albright’s autobiography, “Madam Secretary: A Memoir,” and Ayn Rand’s seminal tome, “Atlas Shrugged.” Both had been on my reading list for years, for obviously very different reasons. Yet, as chance would have it, I found insightful and similar lessons within the two very different stories.

I would like to expound on one in particular. In the four years that Madeleine Albright served as Secretary of State to President Bill Clinton, she describes painstaking, arduous diplomatic missions that required not only creative thinking and ingenuity, but also intense focus and perpetual concentration. Nearly every hour of every day, she and her team attempted to solve the world’s most challenging and complex conflicts. Her decisions affected millions of lives, yet often were taken in moments. The pressure was unrelenting.

In Rand’s work, one character, Hank Rearden, reminisces on the effects of his own work — “He was tired. It was as if he had run a race against his own body, and all the exhaustion of years, which he had refused to acknowledge, had caught him at once and flattened him against the desk top. He felt nothing, except the desire not to move. He did not have the strength to feel – not even to suffer. He had burned everything there was to burn within him; he had scattered so many sparks to start so many things…”

The intensity is palpable in Rand’s description. The inhumane demands that both Albright and Rearden endured for their work seem almost nonsensical. Why would one put oneself through this sort of self-inflicted suffering? What motivates this behavior?

As I pondered this, I realized that Albright and Rearden shared a sense of mission. There was an intrinsic worth in the work they did and an extrinsic value in the end goal. These gave meaning to the otherwise nonsensical, remorseless demands of their work.

Proving this, on the page following the quote above, Rearden concludes, “Whatever it was, he thought, whatever the strain and the agony, they were worth it, because they made him reach this day…”

The motivation of creative work (literally creating something new, whether it be an idea, a technological advancement, a compromise, or a process) is profoundly meaningful. It becomes the reason to wake up before the sun rises, or never even make it to bed; it inspires daring perseverance; it spurs innovation and change. Not surprisingly, every great figure in history has shared this quality – a dogged dedication to a cause greater than him or her.

As a new semester begins (for me the last) this is a lesson that I will strive to remember. If such passion does not drive my own endeavors, then changing the world is a verifiable impossibility. So, consider: what drives you? For what cause would you do or give anything? To pursue it may be the most painful risk you take, but to refuse it would assure dissatisfaction. So, take the risk and strive for greatness.

Adriana is a senior majoring in political science, French, public policy and history.