Mikhail Baryshnikov's commencement speech at Northwestern in 2013

First and foremost, I would like to bow to my fellow recipients and to the class of 2013. It's an honor to be in your company. Thank you.

I know what you're thinking. Why is the old guy from the Sex and the City giving our commencement speech?

I don't quite yet understand myself. But let me explain. When President Schapiro asked me if I would address class of 2013, I thought it hard about whether to say yes. Why me? You know, I haven't cured any diseases or negotiated peace treaties. I'm a flawed human being, still figuring out myself.

What could I say that would be wise, inspiring, or even educate to you graduates of one of the finest universities in the country? You're educated much better than I ever was. But I accept it for one simple reason-- because my daughter, class of 2014, asked me to.

Perhaps that's the first bit of wisdom to you guys out there. If you become fathers to daughters, watch out. You'll probably agree to things you shouldn't agree to.

And you daughters already know what I'm talking about.

But I am truly honored to be here. And actually, I said yes for another reason. It was a challenge to myself to do something I don't like to do, to try and say in front of you all something meaningful about life, you know, something-- meaningful.

You know, I am kind of chaotic person. And usually, I do things kind of intuitively. So this formal situation-- you are there, I am here-- forces me to articulate things I have never even said coherently to my own children. English is not my first language. And I'll be honest, this is scarier than bungee jumping, I'll tell you.

So to be sure I didn't embarrass myself completely, I asked a couple of longtime acquaintances for advice. They're public people, and they have been around the block a few times. But I'm not sure their advice was so helpful. This is what former president Clinton told me, and I quote-- "Be memorable and relevant. And if you can do that, be brief." And then he added, "Actually, be brief anyway."

Well, thanks a lot, Mr. President. Then I called a fellow former dancer who just happens to be involved with Chicago politics. He didn't have advice about giving speeches. But what Mayor Rahm Emanuel said was that he's still using his fancy footwork he learned to dance and dance to negotiate the world of politics. The--

Metaphor? Yes. But it's relevant to what I have to say to you today. And you see, I'm trying to pay attention to my advisers too. So here we go. The only wisdom I can offer is related to the arts. Specifically, the arts have made me, in my opinion, sort of a better person, a better human being.

A few months ago, I was in the subway in New York City. And there was a poster inside the train that said-- and I'm paraphrasing-- are you a better person today than you were yesterday? At first, it seemed cliche. But I thought about it, and then I realized that, in fact, the only way I've managed to be inspired to be better is through the arts.

Sadness, elation, fury, love. It's all there in the music, literature, and dance. That's what the arts have made possible for me, to find those elements in myself and in the world. And I'm better for it, not like being a saint, but just by being aware of what it means to be human.

I don't think I consciously understood this growing up, even in my 20s. As a child, I lived in Latvia as the son of a Soviet army officer. Even though my father wanted me to go to military school or to be somebody normal, like engineer or whatever, luckily, I ended up in dance classes. For me, I discovered that dance and later music, literature, and the visual arts were how I made sense of the world.

By the late teens, it was clear to me that artists and those drawn to the arts were the people I wanted to be around. At the time, that didn't mean just actors, dancers, painters. It included scientists, mathematicians, doctors, and engineers and factory workers.

As a matter of fact, one of the most intelligent and particularly interesting guy I knew in my 20s was a guy who happened to dig graves for a living. Once, I asked him, Garrick-- that was his name-- what do you think about when you're digging a grave? He said, what do you think I think about? Look around. I'm thinking about the reality of life. He examined life with all its beauty and its ugliness.

Over time, I learned that the big question-- and big questions, rather-- were being asked, if not always, answered by artists. Questions like, why are we here? What is important? What should we be doing? They weren't being answered by politicians or by religion or even by some of the smartest people I knew.

So what I'm trying to say is that being in that atmosphere made me-- and here I quote one of my heroes, the poet Joseph Brodsky-- intellectually uncomfortable. It pushed me to think about things bigger than my own little daily routines. So my first piece of advice to you is this-- figure out what pushes you. If it isn't the arts, what is your trigger? What makes you ask the big questions?

Of course, I'm biased. I would like to go out and hear live music or go to the theater or visit an art museum or just see how it makes you feel. But I recognize that not everyone responds the same way. The arts motivate me to think beyond what is familiar or convenient. But for you, it could be something different.

The key is that it excites you, challenges you. Look at your environment and to your country. Who is asking the questions that matter to you? What issues make you willing to go beyond yourself? You see, intense focus, thought, and the pursuit of excellence are certainly part of what it takes to be an artist. But they can be applied to anything.

Each one of you can focus and work to excel at something that makes you think about the world and your own life in the most challenging way. As Brodsky said, it isn't always comfortable. You might see things in yourself that are unpleasant. You might think about things that are easier to ignore. But that's life. The more you see life as something complicated and full of contradictions, the better you will understand yourself.

I hate to pull out another cliche, but what I'm saying is know thyself. And know that all of thyself won't be pretty. Sometimes that's the most interesting discussion. And isn't that why you're here today as graduates? Because you like the challenge of the complicated conversation.

It's not the easiest choice. It hasn't been for me. It takes some discipline, a bit of a tunnel vision, and sometimes sacrifices. But it is a choice and one that's worthwhile. I'm sure most of you understand what I mean. You dedicate yourself to getting your degree here at Northwestern, and now you have done it!

You have managed the quarter system, which my daughter says is a challenge. You have survived Chicago winters. Not quite Siberia, but pretty close.

I've been told it's not the norm here. After all, everyone else graduated last month, huh? You could be at the beach right now or fishing or having a beer. But that is my point. You are not. My suggestion is this. Once you figured out what you will do with your life-- and eventually, you will-- work hard at it, just like you have been working hard here. Give it your time. Let it consume your thoughts.

But remember, you don't have to be brilliant 24/7. You don't have to make yourself crazy trying to succeed. What do you have to do is leave yourself time to pause and think. Figure out where there is a space to continue asking the hard questions. What's important? How can I contribute? Am I doing something today that will make me better tomorrow?

In my view, working to be better, it's not the same as trying to be the best. Do not make your goal to be the best. Best is a label. It's something someone else decides for you. Better is something more personal. It's a process. And in my opinion, better is something more interesting than best. I'm almost over.

Stay with me. I'm going to ask you to go one step further. There is a beautiful Yiddish word, "mensch." It means someone with integrity, a person with a sense of right and wrong. It's what I try to be every day. And believe it or not, sometimes, not always, but sometimes I succeed.

Getting to know yourself, to know yourself, working to be better as being yourself is a process. And any process is confronted with failure. But keep trying. This is what will make you a mensch. And we can use a few more mensches in this world.

But now, for now, celebrate all your hard work. Go to have lunch with your family. Go to have a drink or several or whatever. Take a little pride in what you have accomplished. But tomorrow or the next day or sometime really very soon, take the concentration and drive and ambition you have applied here at Northwestern and direct it towards deciding what conversation you will have about the world.

If the arts help, make that possible. That's great. But do challenge yourself, whatever you do, to create a space for those big conversations. That is what will make your lives amount to more than your ambitions, your bank balance, or your job description. It will make your lives truly lived.

Northwestern has prepared you to succeed, and I have no doubt that you will. But there is something even bigger than success. It's being fully human. And that is what this school is about. Congratulations, class of 2013. I look forward to seeing what you do next. And go, Cats!