During the 18th Century in New England there was a blacksmith who spent most of his life making hammered iron nails. He knew that he was providing them for countless doors, clapboards, fences and horseshoes that would one day fall into disuse, be lost, burned or would simply fall away. But he continued to make each nail as if it would be the most important one of his life. Most people didn't know or care how much work went into each nail, but he knew and was proud of the work he had done.
All of that is gone today, as nails are produced by the billions and sold by the pound with no regard to their history or the man who helped to build New England. I wish that I could say that this man became famous, or left some important monument, but I can't.
In our present society we only care about fame and monuments, popularity and financial success. We have lost the essence of the humble worker who made every inconsequential act their most important masterpiece—every single stalk of corn, rye or flax; every treenail (peg) that was carved; every nail, bracket or horseshoe that was hammered at the fire; every pie that was baked; every fence post placed; and every account book page laboriously kept in the dim light of a candle.
When we stand at the threshold of life, we are presently bombarded with examples of famous people, and we are made to feel as if our own parents are unimportant, and therefore poor examples of what we should aspire to. We come under intense scrutiny of our own self-criticism, and we disdain the smaller moments of our lives which should really be the most important parts of our lives.
Even before I discovered reincarnation, I was aware of the greater cycle and felt very much the way that most of us do when confronted with so many choices while under so much pressure to be important. If anything, the possibility of reincarnation has helped to redirect my attention from my own importance in the great cycle to the more mundane effort of living each second as if it would be my greatest masterpiece.