Tweak the relationship between strengths and weaknesses. Be the 16%.

Image from The Gaping Void.

“Only 16% of people manage to keep their New Year’s Resolutions,” The Gaping Void blog recently published. That means 86% of us will fail. Especially if our resolutions “are trying to fix a long-term fault” like losing weight, going to the gym daily, or changing an undesirable habit.

Why do we fail so often? Because “It’s difficult to change an aspect of your personality by sheer force of will,” the post continues, “And if it is a weakness you choose to work on, you probably won’t enjoy the process. If you don’t find pleasure or reinforcement along the way . . . you’ll soon give up.”

The solution, provided through the wisdom of Jonathan Haidt, is, “Work on your strengths, not your weaknesses.”

“Instead of saying, ‘I’m going to lose weight,’” The Gaping Void explains, “say, ‘I really love salad. Next year, I plan to eat more of it.’ Or, ‘I really loved tennis when I was a kid. I think I might take it up again.’”

Instead of focusing on where you need to improve, embrace what you love. And I love that.

Instead of trying to “fix what’s ‘wrong’ with us {which} is never fun and rarely works,” simply “tweak the relationship between our strengths and our weaknesses and choose to look at it from a different perspective.” Again, I just love that.

It is easy to fixate on what is “wrong” with us when reflecting. The way we behave in stressful situations, our innate ability to say the wrong thing when we desperately mean not to, or the extra pounds we carry. Whatever it is, when we look in the mirror, that fault is the only thing we see.

Believing we can suddenly fix them, simply because the calendar changed a day, does little more than add to the weight of guilt, frustration, and defeat. And when we fail it only encourages what we already believe, that we cannot change. “I simply cannot do this anymore,” we whisper to ourselves or cry into the abyss.

Because it’s true. We can’t. The majority of us can’t, anyway. I know I can’t. And I have a 20-ish years-long list of unfulfilled resolutions to prove it.

Especially recently.

This past year I have been crippled by the harsh realities of my insufficiency. In all walks of life, when I evaluate and consider who I am and what I’ve done, I am disappointed, embarrassed, and ashamed. Which is why, for the first time in 20-ish years, I have no New Year’s Resolution. There are simply too many wrongs that need fixing, and I have lost hope.

“High-functioning depression” has suddenly entered my Google results.

This reality has not only confused me, it has frightened me. I’m not supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to be strong, funny, confident, and stable.

I’m supposed to be a man. A father. A husband. A principal. I’m supposed to be better.

There simply is no room for this shit.

Yet, it is here. Unwanted and uninvited.

And I cannot fix it.

This is why I truly appreciated the above post by The Gaping Void. Largely because it doesn’t attempt to fill my mind with the typical, “This will be your year!” bullshit. Instead, it offers a simple challenge: tweak the relationship between your strengths and weaknesses and choose to look at it from a different perspective.

A different perspective can often lead to a different purpose.

When I consider my shortcomings and disappointments, they are exhausting. What plummets me, however, is when I stop there. When I fixate on lost opportunities, failed endeavors, broken relationships, and failed tries. When I fixate on myself, I get discouraged. When I focus on others, however, I have reason.

I have reason to get out of bed and head to work because my family needs me.

I have reason to head to work because my students need someone to see them.

I have reason to hear my teachers because they need someone to trust them.

When I focus on others, I have reason to keep going because maybe “My year” has nothing to do with me but everything to do with the people around me.

Maybe “my year” focuses less on where I am struggling and frustrated and a hellova lot more on why others are struggling and frustrated. And what I can do about it.

Maybe “my year” isn’t about tweaking what is wrong with me but embracing what is right with me, being comfortable and confident with that, and believing, truly believing, it is enough because it is what I have. What I’ve been given. What I’ve been gifted.

Maybe “my year” is tweaking the relationship between my strengths and my weaknesses and choosing to look at Life from a different perspective.

Maybe this is the year I am the 16%.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : New Years

Match Life with life.

Recently, I’ve been struggling with inspiration.

More than a few personal endeavors, goals, and hopes have either crashed and burned or failed to get off the ground, and it has discouraged me far more than I anticipated. Especially in my writing. “What’s the point,” I’ve thought more than once, staring at a blank screen, unable to discover ideas or find the words, “No one is going to read them anyway.”

And in my most self-loathing moments, “Nothing I say or do matters.”

So, in response, I wrote nothing. For days. Which soon turned into weeks. Which now knocks on the door of months.

Feeling more and more discouraged (lost even), I resorted to old-school writing - in a paper journal! - to try and conjure a spark. “I give up,” I wrote in harsh black ink, “I just don’t know how.”

Rather quickly, the words came. Nothing fancy or poetic, just thoughts. Honest thoughts. And fears. Fears of failure, of wasted time and energy, and of doing this thing - whatever it is - wrong. Fears of embarrassment, rejection, and of regret. “I give up,” I wrote again, “I just don’t know how.”

I closed my journal, poured another cup of coffee, and headed to work. No solution. No resolution. No nothing. Just the weight of the task ahead, that students and staff will soon be in my school and my wife and children will be home when I get there.

And that brought a clarity, an understanding, to the reality that no matter how I feel about life, life doesn’t care much how I feel about it. No matter what, It still shows up. And it expects me too as well. Which is often why Life wins. Because it is relentless, consistent, and unapologetic in its one and only task: show up.

Should I not be expected to do the same?

There are so many friggin things I cannot control - how I am perceived, received, or embraced among the top. What I can control is whether or not I’m willing to try again. Whether or not I’m willing to show up, like Life, again and again.

It doesn’t have to always be pretty, but it does have to be always. For as Churchill (should have) shouted, “Do your worst, and we’ll do our best!” What matters is not that our best is enough, but that what’s best is enough.

And what’s best is that, even when we are at our worst, we show up.

- - - -

I don’t love that conclusion. Largely because it feels shallow. Insufficient. Uninspiring.

But really, I just don’t know what else to do. And sometimes, truthfully, it is all that I have - not giving up. Or at least, just showing up.

If I keep engaging with Life, maybe I can steal some from it.

Maybe.

Monthly Favorites : June 2023

My Family : We cram the frame

“Do for one what you wish you could do for many.” - Andy Stanley

This past week, I was fortunate to take my family on a quick road trip to Seattle, the Haro Strait, and the Oregon coast, and it was one of our favorite family trips. From start to finish.

At one gas station, however, I was in desperate need of the restroom when, to my dismay, I realized I needed a code to open the door. Which I didn’t have. I tried both restrooms, even knocking a few times to see if they were in use (which they weren’t). A gentleman behind me watched my whole struggle, said nothing, waited till I backed off, then put in the code and closed the door.

“What?” I said aloud.

One of the workers then peaked his head around the corner, “7537” he yelled. I punched in the numbers, opened the door, and took a seat. Nature was calling. But I digress.

For a while, that guy - the one who could have helped me out but didn’t - nagged on my mind. “Why didn’t he just give me the code?” I thought. “Why didn’t he help?”

I couldn’t answer that question, but the incident did spark an idea. Or rather, a perspective . . . look for the helpers. Instead of focusing on the people/events that frustrate me, look for the people and events that bring unexpected joy.

So I did. And there many.

One was the young man in front of my six-year-old son and me. We were headed to the elevator that would take us down from atop the Space Needle and the young man was a few paces ahead of us.

“Can I push the button, Daddy?” Elias asked.

“Sure, buddy.” I said. Then, a few steps later, the young man in front of us stopped, turned, and with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face, pointed Elias towards the down button. He had overheard the small request and chose to do something about it. He chose to help, even when it wasn’t expected.

Another was the middle-aged mechanic who stopped his busy day to give our SUV a thorough lookover because I was nervous about some sounds. He even dumped a liter of oil in because we were a bit low. When asked how much it would cost, his hand batted my question away, “No problem. Just get home safe.” He provided time, oil, and a whole lotta comfort, all at no charge.

There was also the security guard at a nice high-rise building who ignored the “No public restroom sign” and heard my request to let our kiddos use the restroom. He said yes, then allowed my entire family access.

“Thank you,” I said repeatedly.

He smiled and said, “Happy to help.” He broke a rule to help a family.

These events, although small and insignificant (to the point that, if I hadn’t written them down, would have been forgotten and lost amidst the other memorable or stressful moments), reminded me of the power of perspective, and of simple moments.

We can either focus on the people and events that frustrate us and bring us down, or we can see the helpers, we can BE the helpers - “Moment Makers” - just by seeing and hearing the people around us.

How we choose to see the world makes a world a difference in how we interact with it.

Although life is hard, disappointing, and often a seemingly endless battle, it is also filled will hope, beauty, and meaningful reminders. We just need to look for them, and at times, create them.

“Do for one what you wish you could do for many.”

That’s what I’ve been thinking about this past week.

Here are a few favorites from the month of June!

Favorite Book:

Fans First: Change The Game, Break the Rules & Create an Unforgettable Experience

When adversity hits, most people dwell on the negative. It’s raining. We’ve lost power. There’s construction . . .

When things go wrong, when there’s a challenge with the experience, that is the best time to wow your fans. They’re not expecting you to make a random wrong a right, it’s a little heroic. Or, as Bananas catcher Bill LeRoy might say, a little joyful” (pg 47).

Favorite Advice:

This one was offered by a friend (Gary Phile!) who called me the other day. “I think you’ll like this,” he said. And I do. So very much.

When in the presence of others, when the conversation or action causes us even the slightest alarm, work through the following questions:

Does it need to be said?
Does it need to be said by me?
Does it need to be said right now?"

If the answer to all three is, “Yes!” Speak up. If there is even a single “No,” keep quiet and figure out who and when - and if anything! - needs to be said.

And I just love that.

Favorite Podcasts:

At the Table: Mind the Gap, with Patrick Lencioni

When it comes to organizational clarity, a tiny gap on a leadership team can become a big crack down the line.  This week, Pat and the team discuss a few reasons why these gaps appear, and how to best prevent them.

Plain English: Why So Many Young Men are Lonely, Sexless, and Extremely Lonely, with Derek Thompson

Many men - especially younger men - are socially disconnected, pessimistic about the future, and turning to online anger . . . they are facing higher rates of depression symptoms, suicidal thoughts, and a sense of isolation, as seen in the agreement of 65% that ‘no one really knows me well.’

Favorite Conundrum:

I’m taking the money. You?

Let me know of anything you’ve been reading, watching, listening to, or have been inspired by!

Happy July!

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

Blog : Monthly Favorites

Work. It gets the best of me.

This picture was taken a day after a major accident. I wasn’t paying much attention to the road; I was trying to call a struggling teacher.

I find that, at the end of the day, when I arrive home to my lovely wife and five fantastic kiddos, I’m exhausted. And not just tired exhausted, which I am, but resource exhausted.

I am less patient than I want to be because I used it all up throughout the day.

I’m less caring and intentional with my wife because I spent the day pushing into hard conversations and thinking and caring for others.

I’m less fun and energetic with my kids because my body is soar, my legs tired, and my mind spent.

Work gets the best of me; my family gets the worst.

I am not new to this understanding, nor am I espousing a wisdom previously unknown to every hardworking mom and dad, husband and wife. I am just renewed in my conviction and more aware that, recently, I am falling asleep on the couch while a child is in mid sentence, that I am spending too many evenings watching a movie or binging tv shows because its easier than anything else and I just want to rest.

My wife is generally very understanding and extremely accommodating to my busy schedule and demanding job. Recently, however, I begun to notice a slight (if not more than slight) slip in my time, efforts, and fight for quality family time. More than ever - and I’m not entirely sure why - I’ve adopted the attitude of “I deserve this” when in reality, I don’t. I just think I do. And I think it has something to do with moral licensing.

Moral licensing is “the habit of balancing out our good and bad decisions.” It is the convincing of “ourselves that it's okay we didn't do any recycling this week, because we usually do.” It is the attitude that its “fine to have that second helping of cake because we went on a run yesterday” (via).

Said another way, it is “when we are confident we have behaved well,” that we have “demonstrated compassion and generosity” all throughout the day or week and are therefor permitted little acts of selfishness, impatience, or thoughtlessness. It is the destructive convincing that, in the scheme of the week, day, or life, we have - generally - been a good person and are therefore permitted small acts of imperfection (via).

The problem with this way of thinking is fairly obvious. Namely, it isn’t right. From a basic integrity argument for sure, but also from a relational argument. Just because we are good most of the time doesnt mean we are permitted moments where we can be unkind, unloving, or foolish. And when I write it out, that truth is obvious. When I try and live it out, I find it much less convincing. And I hate it. My wife and kids deserve better of me.

So why is it so hard? Why do I continually do that which I do not want to do?

My son answered this for me the other day when he and I were engaged in a rather heated discussion. He had been rude to his younger sister and I was getting on him. “I don’t like acting this way,” he said, openly and honestly.

“Then why do you do it?” I asked. “Are you like this at school?”

“No.” He responded.

“Then why at home? Why do we get the worst of you?” I asked, instantly thinking of a black kettle and pot.

“Because it’s safe, I guess.”

Bingo.

Work, although safe in many regards, is not nearly as safe as my home.

If I am short with my staff or impatient with my words, I can expect a phone call or visit from my boss. If I don’t show up to work, I don’t get paid. If my behavior is less than what is expected, I will be placed on an imrovement plan. At work, there is immediate and uncomfortable accountability.

At home, there is grace. At home, there is unconditional love. At home, there is comfort. And comfort can be an incredibly bad thing.

I know my wife won’t leave me, just as she knows I won’t leave her. But not leaving is a pretty low bar of expectations. We can stay together for the next thirty years but be completely unsuccessful in our marriage, in raising our kids.

And that is exactly what has been on my mind lately.

When my career is over, when I receive the retirement plaque of 30-some years commitment to this wonderful profession, I don’t merely want my wife and kids in attendance, I want them celebrating their dad. A dad they know, that they respect, and that they are proud of. I want my wife to be excited for the next chapter of life because she has learned from the past seven that no matter the circumstance, I will be present. That in all things, no matter how busy or exhausted I am, I choose her.

Lately, I don’t think she could confidently say that.

In a recent conversation with a friend I found myself saying, “I am defined by my family. My wife, my kids. But I spend more of my days thinking about and caring for my profession - the kids in my building and how I can improve the school.” I spend less time considering how to pursue my wife, support my kids, and build a solid and safe home.

Work gets the best of me. My family gets the rest of me. And that just simply terrifies me.

So what do I do? What does this acknowledgement mean? And, more importantly, what can I do about it.

One, I think flirting with moral licensing needs to go. That’s a dangerous and dark alley, and the fact that I’ve even lingered on the corner makes me sick.

Two, I need to place some of my selfish ambitions aside - or at least be willing to. So what if I gain all that my mind desires - a successful publishing career, a several times recognized blue ribbon school, and great applause for all I’ve done - if my wife and kids don’t know me, don’t trust me, don’t like me, what is it worth? A pile of dirt, that’s what.

And three, give to Caesar what is Caesar’s. I am not responsible for what will happen, only what needs to be done (as I slightly nod to Gandalf). I am also responsible for what I’ve been given. And what I’ve been given is a kind and gracious wife who loves others more than herself and five kiddos who need a dad, a father, and an example. If loving and caring for them lowers my chances of personal advancement, so be it. It is out of my hands. My children, my wife, my family, however, are not. And I need to grip them tightly.

Work may get the most of me, but it doesn’t need to get the best of me. I can love my job, work hard at refining my craft, come home exhausted, and STILL carry some of the best of me through the door. And I must.

Becoming a better father and husband makes me a better principal, educator, and leader because it makes me a complete, more well-rounded person. And when I am a more complete, well-rounded person, work gets the best of me. And so does my family.

#doGREATthings!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Education : On Leadership

Sorry : A Short Film About Every Classroom Teacher Ever

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
- Maya Angelou -

I don’t think it is ever wrong for teachers to draw hard lines or hold high standards. And I definitely don’t fault them for holding their students accountable to those hard lines or high standards.

I do think, however, that all of us - teachers and administrators alike - need to constantly be aware of our misunderstanding or gaps of understanding. That we need to constantly and continuously be asking the question, “Why?”

Why are our students continuously forgetting their work or acting up in class? Why are they constantly late?

Because kids, like adults, don’t like getting into trouble or falling short of expectations. They want to do well! And often times, their misbehaviors are them just communicating their struggles.

Yet, as educators, we often forget to ask questions, to seek understanding, and to give grace. I think we want to, but with 20+ kids entering our classrooms, deadlines breathing down our necks, and the ever increasing expectations of improving test scores we often forget to sit with those who are struggling because we simply don’t have the time, the energy, or the patience.

Slapping little Johnnie’s hands is easier. And faster.

When I watch this video I know, without the shadow of a doubt, that every great educator will picture a few of their students they have disciplined and then heap on another unneeded and unbearable weight of guilt upon their shoulders.

Don’t.

Because I also know that every great educator is doing the best they can.

Teachers, keep doing GREAT things! Keep holding your standards high , keep expecting excellence, and keep holding kids accountable! But also, once you know better, do better.

And then, let that shit go.

Your kids will be there tomorrow, eager to see you, and ready to reconcile. And oftentimes, all they really need is a simple hug and a sincere, “sorry.”

Keep your head up teachers! You are doing GREAT things and your kiddos are lucky to have you.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  On Education  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : The Strength of Transparency: What Clydesdales can teach us about fear and support

Yesterday, my oldest daughter Eden (she's eleven) was fortunate enough to help a friend of ours with his Clydesdales. Not only was she thrilled because she LOVES horses, but she was also shocked to learn how delicate these monsters are. "They're so scared," she said.

After prepping the giants for the coming carriage ride, the owner of the horses offered her the opportunity to drive them. Shortly into their journey he handed her the reigns, and a bit of advice. "Whenever you come across a bridge or approach a tractor, the horses get scared,” he said, “They need you to talk to them, to let them know you are here and that they are not alone." My little girl was dumbfounded. "Like this," he said. They were approaching a large fence and the horses were beginning to slow their walk. "I see that fence," he said in a soothing voice, "I know it's scary, I'm scared too, but well do this together, okay?" To Eden's amazement, the horses picked up their pace and continued on their way.

As she shared this story with me, I couldn't help but think of how often we are terrified to express our fears. We want to be perceived like a Clydesdales: strong, confident, and extremely competent. The vision of those old Budweiser commercials, of Clydesdales running through snow or pulling giant loads is awe inspiring and we want to be more like that. Not scared. Being frightened or needing the coaxing from a petite little eleven year-old doesn't quite fit our ideas of what it means to Do Great Things!

But maybe it should.

There is something encouraging - convicting even - about how a Clydesdale lives its life. It knows what it can do and has all the confidence in the world that it can accomplish whatever task is set before it. At some point, however, it also needs to know its fears, warranted or not, are acknowledged as real. Most importantly though, they need to know they are not alone.

Humans are much the same.

Not only do we need to be strong enough to admit we need help, that we're afraid, and that we can't do it alone, we need to be strong enough to know that admitting so isn't weak! It's brave. And it is completely okay.

We also need to be the kind of people that allow others to admit they need help or are afraid. And we do so by being strong enough to not fix their fears or concerns for them. When the moment of fear approached for the horses, their owner didn't hop off and take control of the cart and do their job for them. Nor did he show them that their fears we're unfounded, making them feel weak or foolish. He simply acknowledged their fears and reminded them that he was there. Then, they continued on. Together.

Take a lesson from the Clydesdales and share your concerns, your fears - invite them into your world - so you can continue carrying your heavy load and doing Great things, fully confident that you are not alone.

And neither are they.

Daft Punk's Epilogue teaches us how to say goodbye

I think a lot of goodbyes are like this. There isn’t a definitive moment that separates us or a decisive conversation that divides us (although sometimes there is), but rather, a gradual distancing that, suddenly, shows just how far apart we’ve become.

Then, a conscious change, a removing of our old self and destruction of what was.

What I love about Daftpunk’s goodbye is that it is still collaborative, creative, and a celebration. The music isn’t doleful, nor is the last scene. Although the sun is setting, the music is uplifting, the lyrics hopeful. “Hold on” it says, “If love is the answer your home.”

Yet, he walks off into the distance, alone.

That juxtaposition seems incredibly appropriate. In their separation, love is not lost, feelings are not hurt, and self-preservation is not the goal. Love is. Of each other, the past journey, and the moving forward.

That simple lesson, to me at least, is encouraging. And even a bit convicting.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  On Living : Music

Sitka Alaska : "Yeah, it Rains."

These videos always inspire me, for a variety of reasons. Most of the time, when finished, my brain thinks, “We should move to Alaska!” Because it looks beautiful and fun and full of adventure.

But so too is where I live. If I want it to be.

But also, they gloss over (or ignore) the hardships which is why it looks so dreamy. I, on the other hand, can call my hardships by name because they keep me up at night.

Just as they would in Alaska.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Documentaries :  On Living : Real People

The Concrete is not Blank

We are not guaranteed tomorrow, next week, or next semester. If someone has encouraged you, tell them. If someone is struggling, check in on them. If a relationship or hopeful habit is broken, fix it. If something needs to be done, do it. Whatever your conviction or inspiration, don't wait. Get after it and DO GREAT THINGS!!!

“If you wait, it will get dark or it will rain. And then, it will be too late.”

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

The Dichotomy of Realities: Why We Love and How we Hate

Sometimes, life is ironic. Sometimes it’s comical. Sometimes it’s ironically comical, like when the founder of AA asked for a shot of whisky on his death bed only to be denied by the nurse. Or the fact that “the only losing basketball coach in University of Kansas history is James Naismith—the man who invented basketball in 1891” and that A Charlie Brown Christmas is a movie about over commercializing Christmas, yet, every year, is trimmed down by ABC in order to make room for more commercials (via).

Sometimes, though, life’s irony isn’t all that funny. Sometimes it’s hard, frustrating, and more than a little exhausting. Like now, after the long Thanksgiving break - a weekend set aside to rest, be with family, and acknowledge the many blessings we have - I feel more exhausted and more frustrated than before.

Maybe you can relate? Of trying hard to maintain a good and positive and productive spirit, of trying to be diligent with your attitude and conversations with family and friends, of trying day in and day out to be purposeful in who you are and what you’ve been given only to be knocked down by a carelessly spoken word, a moment of deep disappointment, or the constant burden of a nagging worry.

Or perhaps you feel more like the student who wrote me about an “inner panic,” that’s “hard to express” but makes them “feel holed up and small.”

I know I feel that way sometimes. And I hate it. Largely because I can’t necessarily pinpoint why I feel it or explain where it came from. And because I can’t explain it, I can’t name it. And because I can’t name it I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Recently, though, I’ve begun to try. I’ve named it DOR, short for “the Dichotomy of Realities.”

Let me explain.

Although there are some very real, very immediate changes to my life since the outbreak of COVID-19, everything else seems relatively normal. I still have a job, my kids still go to school in an actual school building, and bills are still being paid. Life isn’t all that different. Yet, when I turn on the news, listen to podcasts, or hear stories of people both near and far, I see and hear a reality that is harsh and hard and often very scary, and I just can’t make sense of it. How can what I see and hear be in such contrast to what I experience? How can both realities be true?

But then I think, maybe the difficulty isn’t in the ability to accept that various people are living radically different realities at the same time because that’s fairly normal. National Geographic has been exploiting that dichotomy for decades. The Dichotomy of Reality in a single person, however, is not normal. Or at least it shouldn’t be. And that, I believe, is where I’m truly struggling. How can two radically apposing realities actively exist - in the same moment and at the same time - in one person? How can we be both absolutely right and absolutely wrong simultaneously?

Like the woman in a video posted by @aaronjfaulkner who chewed out some teenage boys who were sitting in their car. “You’re ass is grass,” she barks through the slightly open driver-side window, “You’re supposed to be sheltering in place.” Then, when she notices the phone, she ends with, “Go ahead, put me on social media. You’re a little punk!” Her eyes are furrowed and her hand keeps hitting the glass. How can she not see the irony in her actions? How can she be so concerned about humanity yet so unkind to humans in the exact same moment?

Or what about the story that broke recently of the senior pastor at Flowing Streams Church in Florida who encouraged the Trump administration to “‘start shooting” democrats and members of the media in firing squads if it turns out they conspired to rig the presidential election.” How is that possible? How can a man read the scriptures of grace and mercy and forgiveness while also conjuring up ideas of a mass killing spree?

In his TED Talk, How One Tweet Can Ruin Your Life, Jon Ronson also wrestled with this dichotomy. If you don’t remember the name Justin Sacco you probably remember her story. She’s the one that sent a sarcastic (albeit insensitive) Tweet right before boarding a plane to Africa. Jon Ronson explains it this way:

{Justine Sacco} was a PR woman from New York with 170 Twitter followers, and she'd Tweet little acerbic jokes to them, like this one on a plane from New York to London: [Weird German Dude: You're in first class. It's 2014. Get some deodorant." -Inner monologue as I inhale BO. Thank god for pharmaceuticals.] So Justine chuckled to herself, and pressed send, and got no replies, and felt that sad feeling that we all feel when the Internet doesn't congratulate us for being funny . . . And then she got to Heathrow, and she had a little time to spare before her final leg, so she thought up another funny little acerbic joke: 

[Going to Africa. Hope I don't get AIDS. Just kidding. I'm white!] 

And she chuckled to herself, pressed send, got on the plane, got no replies, turned off her phone, fell asleep, woke up 11 hours later, turned on her phone while the plane was taxiing on the runway, and straightaway there was a message from somebody that she hadn't spoken to since high school, that said, "I am so sorry to see what's happening to you." And then another message from a best friend, "You need to call me right now. You are the worldwide number one trending topic on Twitter."

Within hours, and at the hands of thousands of strangers, Justine had lost her job, her life, and her humanity. She sent a terrible message (albeit, misinterpreted) and was publicly maimed and destroyed for it. Yet, those who responded with deliberate cruelty, with horrific words and ideas that could in no way be misinterpreted as anything other than hateful not only “got a free pass” from all in attendance, they received affirmation and applause.

Comments such as, “I'm actually kinda hoping Justine Sacco gets aids? lol” was liked and retweeted. Another person tweeted, "Somebody HIV-positive should rape this bitch and then we'll find out if her skin color protects her from AIDS” and nothing happened. Nobody venomously responded to or retweeted their cruelty or contacted that person’s employer or found where they were traveling to and met them as they arrived.

Why?

How can there be such an accepted duality of reality? How can we acknowledge such wrong and hate and insensitivity in one instance yet ignore it completely in a slightly different other instance? How can we be so aware yet so blind?

How can I?

I may never say such vulgar things as those tweeted at Justine Sacco, but I know I am guilty of living in this dual reality. Like the times I get frustrated - and I mean the blood pumping, I’m-about-to-lose-my-shit kind of frustrated - and bark at my kids to “STOP YELLING AT YOUR SIBLINGS!!!” Or when I gossip about people who I think are gossipers

How can I do that? How can I, in the exact same instance, hate something bad yet embrace it with both arms? In those moments I instantly know I’m a fraud, that I’m living and expecting two different realities, but does that cause me to pause the next time he speaks unkindly? Sometimes. Other times not. Which is itself another frustration: why can I not stop doing what I hate doing?

The other night, while wrestling with the DOR, a quote came to mind: “So much death. What can man do against such reckless hate?” because in those moments, either when I see it happening on Facebook, the News, or anywhere else humans exist, I often feel the same way. That the fight is hopeless.

But then the rest of the quote came to mind, and as Lord of the Rings often does, it inspired me.

Movies that play on the Good vs Evil are always the same. The bad guy (or gal) are always bigger, stronger, more advanced, and for sure have many more followers. Yet, the good guys (or gal) always win in the end! But only after someone offers a bit of encouragement. Then, with a renewed vision, the hero is once again confident and ready to fight, to inspire those present, and lead them into their final battle against Evil. Soon after, the story ends and Good is victorious once again..

Aragon offers similar inspiration, “Ride with me. Ride out and meet them.” Or rather, “Don’t give up. Keep going.”

Recently that simple truth, although elementary in stature, has been a bedrock for my day to day. I’ve tried to be positive, to remain artistic and active, to be a man of integrity. Yet, more often then not, I’ve felt dull, accosted, and discouraged. Inconsequential even. In those moments I know full well I’m being unfair to myself and to life in general, but that doesn’t mean the frustration isn’t there, that I don’t want to throw my arms up in exhaustion and, in some way, give up. Just like King Theoden.

Its easy for us to focus on the negativity of the world around, largely because it’s the sauce that makes the evening news, TikTok videos, and Facebook posts. Yet, in the midst of the destruction and ugliness, I am also constantly reminded to “ride out and meet them” by those who continually refuse to give in or give up.

Like these people who, in the early onsets of the Global Shutdown, found ways to stay positive, stay creative, and keep each other laughing.

“Always find ways to cheer yourself up,” the young journalist, Violet Wang says. Or better yet, always find ways to cheers up others for that is what sustains us, encourages us, and inspires us to be better people. Not criticism and backbiting.

I doubt any of those people above maintained such great attitudes all throughout their quarantine. I’m sure, like me, they had their rough days, weeks, perhaps even months. But I’m also just as confident that they found encouragement from someone who inspired them to get out of bed or of their own discouraged mind and do something fun, something creative, and something worthwhile.

Because that too is part of our dichotomous reality, that we are kind and good and able to do great things even when we don’t feel like it. Even when we’re at war.

We are rarely allowed to have a choice in the event we are asked to live, but we are always provided a choice in how we choose to respond to those events. We can either destroy a life, or save it. We heal each other, Zahed says, when we catch another’s hand from darkness and move them into light.

We know this and want this, which is why stories such as My Enemy, My Brother stir our hearts to tears. Because we know it to be true and want, so desperately, to live lives of such moral aptitude.

Yet, when the moment presents itself, when we have an opportunity to do what we want to do, we do not. Instead, we do the very thing we hate to do: we destroy. We live out our Dichotomy of Reality. We live out our humanity.

“Human beings,” states Bryan Stevenson - founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, “are biologically programmed to do what is comfortable, to do what is convenient” and not necessarily what is right. “To do something uncomfortable,” he continues, what is scary, what is dangerous, what is not fun, requires us to make a conscious choice - a decision - to do the very thing we do not want to do. To be kind, to love despite the hate, and to save a life rather than destroy it.

“An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy. We condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others” (via). In short, we all lose.

So now what?

Now that I have named it and found a way to explain it, how do I deal with it? The answer, for me at least, is quite simple: keep fighting. Be it against the war of pain and destruction around me, or the war for pain and destruction within me. Keep Fighting.

To paraphrase Jon Gordon:

When they say unkind things about you, keep fighting.

When they falsely accuse you, keep fighting.

When no one notices, keep fighting.

When everyone notices, keep fighting.

Fight with passion.

Fight the good fight. For history never remembers the critics, only those who signed up for the battle. Because they’re the ones that become the heroes, who become brothers. They’re the one’s who change the world.

They’re the ones who ride out and meet them.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  On Living

Life, From our Neighbor's Window : A short Film

I really appreciated this video, and for a variety of reasons. For one, it was really well done! Especially the scene with the tea. For some reason, watching that little piece of paper that is connected to the tea bag drift down the mug as the water pushed the tea bag to the top was so incredibly satisfying and real. So too was the tension, the life, and the moments of every day married life.

There was also a great deal that I could relate to.

Strangely, one of them was a naked neighbor. While living in China, we absolutely saw the lives of others who lived just across the way. And yes, one of them loved to live life naked, and without curtains. Fortunately, our relationship with him was more like that of Ugly Naked Guy from Friends. We never knew him or met him outside on the street. We just noticed him, as we did the dishes or poured ourselves a late night tea. We never ordered binoculars.

We do, however, find ourselves much like the married couple in that we can sometimes spend time in our days wishing for other things. Things like peace and quiet and the ability to finish conversations. Or, just as the short film portrays, to be young and vibrant and social again. At times we even wish that life were different. That we were different.

Sometimes, we want to be young again.

And in that regard, this short film hit close to home. Which is why the ending - the reminder - was all the more powerful: life is not greener on the other side, it is greener where we water it.

And in order to water it, one must be present. Which I can often times have a difficult time doing. So too does my wife. She just does it in a different direction. While she tends to want to redo the past; I often long for a better future. Left alone, neither is all that helpful, but both have their role.

Just like the two neighbors experienced, considering the past and the mistakes made can impact and improve the future. It can also dull the present. Planning for a better future requires analyzing and improving the now - which is great! But it can also pull the joy out of the present.

In order to be healthy, both perspectives require a stable and consistent dose of living in and absorbing the present. Be it with a newly discovered relationship and the spontaneity and freedom it allows, or an experience and a routine relationship that is filled with diapers, bills, and occasional nights off, it is essential that we turn our backs to the window and absorb the present. Because whether we like it or not, it’s what we have. And whether we believe it or not, we have control over it. As well as our perceptions of it.

And that, for me at least, is an encouraging thought. It is also a great reminder to put away the phone, get on the floor with the kids or crawl onto the couch with my wife - no matter how tired I am.

If I don’t, I’ll spend my days staring out windows, missing and wishing for life.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Short Films:  Documentaries 

Two TEDTalks by Adam Grant Redefine Success and What it Means to be Original

There’s a lot here worth mentioning, but perhaps the greatest advice is, “Being original doesn’t mean being first. It means being different and better.”

Coupled with his next TEDTalk, “Are you a Giver or a Taker?”, the concept of being different and better takes on a whole new weight of responsibility. Being “better” doesn’t mean beating out the competition or winning, it can (and perhaps should) mean being more helpful.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“Not all takers are narcissists. Some are just givers who got burnt one too many times.”

1. Protect the Givers from Burnout

   1. Five Minute Favor:Find small ways to add large value to other people’s lives

   2. Lincioni

2. Encourage Help-seeking

   1. Givers must recognize that it’s okay to be a receive too

3. Get the Right People on the Bus

   1. One taker can ruin the givers

   2. One giver gets bombarded by the takers
      

“Agreeableness and disagreeableness is your outer vernier. How pleasant is it to interact with you? Whereas giving and taking are more of your inner motives. What are your values, your intentions for others?

“Disagreeable givers are the most undervalued people in our organizations because they are the ones that give us critical feedback that no one wants to hear but everyone needs to hear.”

"Success is not about winning a competition, its all about contribution . . . “the best way to succeed is to help other people succeed.”

Pronoia: the belief that other people are plotting your well being.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  : Adam Grant : TEDTalks

Sensible Human Things

There are reasons to fear. But there is also, and much more so, reason to hope.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

Joaquin and Kurt : A conversation about life

There is just so much about this video that I love.

One, his perspective on winning, on greatness, and on how we handle moments of power: “to give a voice to the voiceless.” For whatever reason, those who can act have been given a platform from which to stand and an allowance into our homes and minds and hearts. For many, that is an incomprehensible responsibility, and for many others an opportunity for further gain and self adulation. Those who use that platform for the benefit of others are the ones that no only last the test of time, they significantly impact the world and make it a better place.

Two, his perspective on animals and sentient beings. What I love about this is that it isn’t popular, that it isn’t something I believe in, and that it is probably easily considered radical. But we need people like this (to an extent) because it keeps bringing us back to the center. Without people who challenge our core beliefs, who question our way of living, or who critique our most basic understandings of life (like eating meat), we would easily fall off the cliff of radicalism. Us meat eaters need the Joaguin’s of the world to bring us back to center. And he needs the meat eaters of the world to pull him and his circle back.

Three, this whole damn thought:

We fear the idea of personal change because we think we have to sacrifice something to give something up. But human beings at our best are so inventive and creative and ingenious, and I think that when we use love and compassion as our guiding principles, we can create, develop, and implement systems of change that are beneficial to all sentient beings and the environment . . .

I have been a scoundrel in my life. I’ve been selfish, I’ve been cruel at times, hard to work with, and ungrateful. But so many of you in this room have given me a second chance. And I think that’s when we’re at our best, when we support each other - not when we cancel each other out for past mistakes, but when we help each other to grow, when we educate each other, when we guide each other towards redemption. That is the best of humanity . . .

Run to the rescue with love, and peace will follow.

Soon after watching Joaquin’s speech, I stumbled across this one, by Kurt Vonnegut, and it reminded me of an Austin Kleon Tweet where he mentioned how much he enjoyed reading several books at once because at times it seemed like they were “having a conversation with each other.”

I feel the same about Kurt and Joaquin.

Although a bit abstract in their connection, where I felt Mr. Vonnegut was contributing to the discussion was this. Joaquin was attempting to explain the best of humanity, to help each other find redemption. Vonnegut clarifies what many of us are thinking, “I’m a human too,” and my story looks radically different than hers or his or that person’s over there. Which is fine, because although we each have our own personal story with various possible story lines, the purpose of our story, of all GOOD stories, is to help each other find redemption.

That is the best of humanity! And we are all capable of discovering it, no matter where our story starts.

Unless, of course, you are destined to be a cockroach.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Kurt Vonnegut : Joaquin Phoenix

Our worth, and why it matters.

Every so often, my children struggle with the “I am’s” of who they are. The “I am” of who they are currently, the “I am” of who others see in them, the “I am” of who they were, and the “I am” of who they want to be.

A few nights ago was one of those times.

So I had them draw a picture of themselves and then asked them, “When you look at yourself, what are five things you want people to say about you?” The clicking an clacking of crayons scribing little words and simple phrases instantly filled the dining room. I sat and watched. I listened. And I worked on my own.

My plan was to discuss the power of our actions because my kids, like many others, don’t want to be perceived as bossy, unkind, selfish, and so on. At times, however, their actions suggest otherwise, and I wanted them to understand that just because they think something about themselves doesn’t mean that is how they are perceived. Our actions define who we are, not our words.

As is often the case, however - at least in my family - the conversation took a turn and headed in another direction.

“I’m cool,” and “fun” Zion wrote, asking how to spell every word.

“Try sounding them on your own,” I said. And she did, adding, “Tuf, butiful,” and “nis.”

“Artistic,” Eden wrote in pink, then, switching to purple, “beautiful, athletic, nice.” She struggled a bit for her fifth. After a few minutes of thought, she witched back to pink and wrote, “funny.”

Judah’s were written in gray, “not ugly, nice, humorous, somewhat athletic, kinda smart.” With a black crayon, I crossed out “not ugly” and wrote “handsome,” but he didn’t like that. I also crossed out “somewhat” and “kinda,” and that really frustrated him, “You asked my for my opinion, and this is what I want!”

“Why though?” I asked, knowing he was struggling a bit in school with identity and feeling a bit on the outs, “Why do you only want to be kinda smart or somewhat athletic?” I pointed to my black markings, “Why don’t you want to be handsome?”

“Because I don’t want to stand out,” he said, tears beginning to swell in the corners of his eyes, “I don’t want everyone to notice me.”

My initial plan of discussion began to change course. Eden and Zion stopped coloring and looked at their older brother.

“What’s so wrong about being noticed?” I asked.

“I just don’t like it,” he said, and my father-heart broke.

“Comer here,” I said, grabbing the crayons and placing them back into the bucket. “Come sit with me for a minute.” We walked to the living room. He sat on the oversized chair and I sat on the floor, arms across his lap. Eden snuggled in next to me, as she has come to do in recent months, just to listen. Zion kept coloring for a while, then headed off to play dog with her younger brother.

“You’re a Miller,” I said to Judah, “And that means when we do something, whatever is, be it sport, school work, yard work, coloring, whatever, we do our very best.”

“But why can’t I do my best and not be the best?” he asked, tears still on the brink.

“Why can’t you be the best?” I asked, feeling a bit of frustration welling in my stomach, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Because I don’t want to be arrogant. I don’t want to think I’m better than everybody else.” A tear lunged down his cheek.

“Why does being good mean you have to think you’re better than everybody else?” I asked, somewhat knowing the answer.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It just always seems that way.” Faces of kids Judah has grown up with flashed through my head. Kids who were talented in various areas but also selfish and unkind to most everyone who wasn’t up to their standards.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I said, “You can be both great and nice?”

“Why does it matter?” Judah asked, “Why can’t I just be good? Why do I have to be great?”

Eden held her knees, Judah shifted in his seat, and I felt a heat flash through my neck and up through my face, This isn’t working I thought to myself, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.

Quotes from inspirational books clogged themselves in my throat. They tasted like acid. I swallowed them down.

“Because,” I said, stalling, thinking, and feeling completely lost. What am I doing? What am I saying? I held Judah’s hand, stared at the scar on his arm, and sat quietly. Eden leaned against my arm, Judah looked out the window, and my mind wondered quickly through the past few years. Suddenly, hundreds of thoughts and memories and moments began to flood my head, of Judah and Eden struggling with identity and confidence, of them believing most everything they do isn’t good enough, that their gifts and talents and thoughts have little worth; that they’re “different.” An answer began to form.

It’s funny how our brains work, how they can take milliseconds to work through years of images and emotions, how it can tie them together in a single linear story with crisp and sudden clarity, and then suddenly produce an intelligent (or, at the very least, coherent) thought.

“Judah,” I said, the thought beginning to take shape, “I don’t want you to be great for your sake, so that you can get the glory and praise. I want you to be great for other people’s sake.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. Eden lifted her head from my shoulder.

“Let’s say you had a hundred dollars in your wallet, but because you hadn’t looked for a long time, you only thought you had twenty.”

He looked at me skeptically, with a look that said, “I would never forget that I had one-hundred dollars.”

“I know,” I said, “But just pretend, okay?”

He nodded. Eden began to chew her nails.

“So you have a hundred but only think you have twenty, and I come home from work, stressed and terrified because I had miscalculated our budget and now we were a hundred dollars short and our heating bill is due in a few hours. You hear Mom and I talking, and as you press your ear to the door to hear more clearly, you catch me saying, ‘If I don’t pay it soon, they’re going to shut off the power and we won’t be able to heat the house.’”

Judah’s eyes widen slightly because with almost two months of below freezing temperatures, he knows what that means.

“So you run over,” I continue, “and say, ‘Dad, I have twenty dollars you can have,’ and you hand it to me with joy in your heart, knowing you can help.” His eyes stay with me and I know he’s tracking along. “And I take it, grateful and joyful that my son is so willing to give and to love our family, but I know it isn’t enough. That although the gesture is sweet and beautiful, it doesn’t really matter because we’re still far from paying the bill and soon, everyone will be freezing cold.” Judah nods and Eden, still against my arm, stares.

“But if you had known that you had one-hundred dollars instead of twenty,” I continue, “you could have helped fully and completely. You could have paid the bill for us and everyone would have been nice and warm, right?” And he nods again.

And that’s just where I need him to be.

“We don’t pursue greatness so we can bring honor and praise to ourselves,” I tell him, holding his thigh and looking into his eyes, “we pursue greatness because it allows us more and greater opportunities to help more people. If you have one-hundred dollars but only think you have twenty, you can only provide twenty dollars worth of help. But if you have a hundred, if you can look in the mirror and say, ‘I’ve worked really hard and now I have a hundred dollars to give away,’ think of how much more you can bless others?” He nods again.

“But Judah,” I say, holding his hand and wrapping the other around Eden, “and Eden, you both have some amazing gifts. They need to be worked on and refined for sure, but you have amazing gifts. You’re healthy, your smart, your athletic, your artistic, and a million other things - you are truly gifted and talented kids. But right now, you believe you only have twenty dollars in your wallet, which means you are losing chances to truly help and bless others.”

They both nod.

“And that’s why I want and care about you being great,” I say, “Not because I want you to be popular or praised, but because I want you to serve and help as many people as possible. I want you to make a huge difference. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Eden says. Judah nods, as he tends to do when he truly gets something.

“Good,” I say, now go give your mom some hugs and then brush your teeth.” They scamper off, racing and pushing and arguing, like they do every. single. night. Then, they come to me, wrap their arms around my waste, say, “I love you,” and turn for their bedrooms. “Judah, Eden,” I say. They turn in unison, “You’re worth one-hundred thousand dollars, not just a hundred.” They smile and turn and race to bed.

That’s why we become great. So that we can help others. So that we can make a difference. And that is what so many kids - so many people - are missing. In service of others, that’s where we find our worth, our purpose, and our hope within this mess of life. Not in spending more time loving ourselves.

We each have a great a mighty worth. What a blessing it is to discover unique and exciting and sometimes simple ways to give it away.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  On Living

2020 : Welcome to Existence

I’ve mentioned before that the first post of every new year is difficult because it seems to set the tone for the year. Last year, after posting a comic strip from Calvin and Hobbs that highlighted the hope of coming adventure, the year was exactly that! Full of road trips, camping, Spartan races, and many large and small adventures. It was great! And I for sure don’t want that part of our family identity to flounder. But I also want them - and other aspects of life - to improve.

Take, for example, our recent vaunt through the streets of downtown Pittsburgh. Our train from Philly to Montana had a four hour layover so we tried to find a Starbucks to pass the time . . . in the middle of the night . . . with our umpteen bags of luggage dangling from our arms and faces. It was terrible. But it was also a great memory that we’ll share forever! It could also be so, so much better. If only I were better at being intentional (I know, kind of an easy/overly used word, but so what! It works).

I still don’t want to be boring or wasteful with my time and life. I do, however, want to be a bit more purposeful with the day to day that defines them. Recently, the specifics of what that could look like has manifested itself in three brilliant videos.

Birds on The Wires : Enjoy the Music

This is how I want to intentionally view my day to day. As music.

When something is off or frustrating its okay because the song isn’t over.

When something is beautiful and sweet, enjoy and relax. Smile.

Or, when something is, “meh,” look for the birds, see the melody. Enjoy the music.

Where this gets most difficult is that this has to be a choice, a day in and day out intentionally to see beyond the fuss and muck, the boring and mundane. And that, at times, can be difficult. But also worth it. Because the ending product is music, sweet music, and not the ugly cawing of murdering crows.

Engagement Proposal : EPIC MOMENT!!!

First off. I’m not crying, you are.

Second, there are a few easy takeaways from this. One, to make my wife feel more special. It’s easy to get trapped in the normalcy of life, to expect what was once new and thrilling or sweet, and no longer hearing the music of her life. I know I’m often guilty of doing so. This video reminded me to make the time, the effort, and the fun to love my wife and show her just how special she is. Because she’s worth it.

The second is this. A proposal is (I’m guessing) always special and a moment worth remembering, even the ones that required very little planning. The great ones, however, the kind of ones that make grown men cry are the ones that embrace planning and details and make sure it isn’t just an experience. They are intentional!! Which allows for one helluva an EPIC MOMENT!!! I have found that throughout my short adult life, I have had many experiences and therefore great stories to tell. But I also have very few EPIC MOMENTS!!! because I don’t plan. I just do.

This year and in the ones to come, I need to be intentional about creating at least one EPIC MOMENT each and every year. And with my oldest turning 13 this year, I think this year is covered.

Rambo Day :

There is a lot here, and for me to unpack it completely would probably result in a full and lengthy blog all its own. And ain’t nobody got time for that.

Instead, I’ll focus on a few things:

1. How one person inspired so many to do something so great. The montage at the end, when the narrator is describing why they did this, is truly inspiring. I love how he didn’t categorize his friendships throughout his life (high school friends, college friends, etc.), but merged them. And, how all of them, from all over the country, felt that something “a bit over the top” was a “fitting tribute to the friend who has always been the first to step up and make something happen for the rest of us.” I want to be this kind of friend.

2. Life and relationships. Again, from the narrator: “Even though this may seem a bit ridiculous, I would argue that it is a rare thing, to be able to celebrate a friendship by bringing together everyone’s creative energy and hard earned cash, to pull off a series of events that we will talk about for the rest of our lives. We’ve been doing it for each other since we’ve met. Different personalities, different strengths and weaknesses. Giving and taking, pushing and pulling, to get the best out of one another. I think that’s what life is all about. Joining an army of sorts, and fighting for the right reasons. Having each other’s back, and making sure we all enjoy life as much as possible.” Not a bad way to sum it all up.

3. Be Rambo. “In the face of danger, or heartache and pain, or lack of confidence, he’s always been there to provide laughter and a positive perspective. To lift us up. Inspire us. And show us how to be a bad ass in all aspects of life.” I want to be this kind of friend, husband, father, principal. I want to be Rambo.

In short, my takeaway from this film and carry with me through 2020 is to intentionally “stay positive. Stay creative. And keep each other laughing.”

(Side note. The last scene from Rambo for a Day, the “God didn’t make Rambo, I did” scene. That part really got me. Because it’s true. I would venture to say that the bulk of who Dana is was created by his dad. And the fact that his friends knew his father needed to be there - that he would WANT to be there - speaks a whole lot of feelings to me, as a son and a father. Damn.)

My word for 2020 is intentionality and these videos helped me flesh that out a bit.

Good luck to you and your new year’s ambitions!!! It’s gonna go fast:)

They Make Us Better

Today, Thursday, was a bit rough.

With so many kids out for the Divisional Volleyball , I had great plans to get a LOT done. I even told myself on my walk to work, "It's going to be a quiet day!!!" Ten minutes after the morning bell, I had four kids in my office and I found myself barking at and getting extremely frustrated with the four often-times-offending culprits. What is so hard about following directions? I thought to myself, “How hard is it to be kind? Polite?” I said out loud and a bit louder than I intended.

Then, the volleyball team lost their third game to Augusta - a team they should have beaten handedly in three - and I was reminded of when I was a coach and how much I dreaded "easy" games because I knew, in many ways, those were the ones we could very easily lose because we just assumed we would win. I also dreaded those games because, as a team, we rarely got better. Often we got worse, and the ease with which we would score or steal the ball or rebound would enforce a false belief of how good we were. Difficult games, however, hard fought matches or underdog wins would do the complete opposite. They would force us to play harder, to fine-tune and fix the smallest of mistakes, to overcome our mental and physical exhaustion, and to work hard. Those games made us better. Better athletes, better coaches, and an overall better team.

I think the same could be said for teaching, principaling, and living in general.

Whenever something is easy (be it a class, a kid, or a goal), I can get lazy, complacent, or downright unmotivated because really all I have to do is show up and things will pretty much take care of themselves. (Maybe you can relate to this?) But when the obstacle or goal is tough, when the class is rowdy, the students are difficult, or the opponent extremely talented, I try my best. I get up earlier, plan for a few extra hours if not days in advance, and create a detailed plan of attack. In short, I rise to the occasion. I get better. (Maybe you can relate to this?)

You may have a particular grade or class that is hard, you probably have several students who grate on you and make each day difficult, and I can almost guarantee that with each looming break (Christmas and summer), kids get extra squirrelly, our patience a bit thin, and classes a bit more chaotic.

I also know it's all about perspective.

At the very least, these kids have the potential to make us better.They will require us to bring our best game, to consider new schemes and teaching practices, and they will force us to continually learn how to love and like people - to do what is best for people - even when we don't feel like it. In other words, they will make us better teachers, better leaders, and better people. Which, in turn, will allow us to teach and lead and inspire more people.

These are the victories that stay with use for years to come. Not the easy ones, the expected ones. It’s the hardest ones. Just like our volleyball girls who, yet again, took their rivals - the defending divisional and state champions to a five-game match and won!

These are the games that we remember. These are the games that make us better. Just like those difficult classes, those difficult students, and those difficult weeks. When we rise to the occasion, when we look on them as opportunities to improve and get better, we do! Then and only then, do we find ourselves at the end of the day, week, year holding on to memories that last a lifetime. Victories of changed and inspired lives. Victories that remind us of the very reason we became educators in the first place.

And that is an encouraging thought.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts

Tribalism: America's Greatest Weapon. America's Greatest Danger

The reason it’s so difficult to have a considered conversation about {religion, race, politics, gender, you name it} is that people feel threatened. Not by the implied criticism of the rituals or irrationality of a particular , but because it feels like criticism of their faith” (pg. 82).

Below are two videos about the Evergreen State controversy, surrounded by Seth Godin quotes from his book Tribes: We Need You to Lead.

“Tribes,” Seth Godin writes, “are about faith - about belief in an idea and in a community. And they are grounded in respect and admiration for the leader of the tribe and for the other members as well” (pg. 9).

“In a battle between sides,” he continues, “the best one doesn’t necessarily win. No, the idea that wins is the one with the most fearless heretic behind it” (pg. 43).

“A fundamentalist is a person who considers whether a fact is acceptable to his religion before he explores it. As apposed to a curious person who explores first and then considers whether or not he wants to accept the ramifications” (pg 63).

“A curious person,” he writes, “embraces the tension between his religion ( politics , beliefs, whatever) and something new, wrestles with it and through it, and then decides whether to embrace the new idea or reject . . . It has to do with a desire to understand, a desire to try, a desire to push whatever envelope is interesting” (pg 63).

“Religion at its worst” and I think it’s best to use that term generically, including all things outside religion, “reinforces the status quo, often at the expense of our faith” (pg. 81). Or, at the expense or our integrity, morality, and humanity.

The secret “is to listen, to value what you hear, and then to make a decision eve if it contradicts the very people you are listening to . . . People want to be sure you heard what they said - they’re less focused no whether or not you do what they said'“ (pg. 129.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living : Education

Friday Thought : Leave it at the door. be Awesome.

My friend, Ron Hardy

I was in my third year of teaching, I think (maybe fourth) when much of my life was far from where I'd hoped it would be and I was beginning to struggle with confidence, joy, and purpose. Unsurprisingly, it began to impact my teaching, my classroom, and my students. Only, I didn’t notice.

Then, I somewhere around Christmas, I received an anonymous email from a student that was written from an anonymous email account informing me that I was not doing a great job, that my teaching was sub-par, and that he (I think it was a he, at least) and his classmates deserved better. Luckily, I received that email on a Friday so I could spend the weekend sulking, arguing, excusing, then finally accepting that he was right. I needed to do better. Because he and they and my colleagues and my family deserved better. And because I was better.

The following week I started writing, "Leave it at the door. be Awesome." on the bottom of every lesson plan. A few weeks in, I made it the footer to my lesson plan template which I have used ever since, reminding me each and every day I sat down to create a lesson to leave whatever struggles, issues, and frustrations I might have at the door and be Awesome.

I wasn't perfect after that, nor did I always leave everything at the door. In fact, every now and then I would gather it all in my arms, squeeze it through the door, then drop it right in the middle of the floor for all my students to see. Like the day I spent sharing memories of my childhood best friend because the night before I had discovered it was the anniversary of passing. He had been gone for almost six years, and I never even knew. We had lost touch over the years, and when I discovered he had passed away six years prior, I felt terrible, guilty, and at a loss.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

So I wrestled through it with my students, I shared some of my favorite memories, talked about how the night before I could only see so much of Ronnie in my son that I ended up holding him for almost an hour while I talked about my childhood friend, and I talked with them about loss and life and the struggle in between. Then I had them share memories of their friends and families and write brief notes to those they mentioned. It wasn't all that academic of a class, but kids referenced it for years as one of their favorite classes and, ever since, I have committed to sharing his story with whomever I can during the month of October, the month he so abruptly left this world.

Sometimes life and circumstances seem more than we can bare. Or, as Bilbo Baggins said, it can make us feeling exhausted and "thin . . . stretched, like butter, spread over too much bread."

In those moments, for me at least, it is healthy to remind myself that I am needed - by my students, my colleagues, my family, and my community. That I am bigger than my circumstances, better than what some might think or say about me, and that I am able to help and serve and do great things, even when I don't feel like it.

People need us. They need us to be great, to be better than we often feel and sometimes think. They need us to be their mothers, fathers, friends, counselors, encouragers, planners, champions, and safe places. They a need us to be Awesome. Which means, sometimes, that they need us to be vulnerable and open and raw. They need us to be human. Which is great! Because that is exactly what humans are. Awesome.

And because we are, we can also be.

Leave it at the door. be Awesome.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Friday Thoughts : Ron Hardy

Saving our Planet is Remarkably Simple

The plan for our planet is remarkably simple: Reduce our impact by making sure that everything we do, we can do forever (via).

The difficult part is the people.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  On Living