ideas : People : stories.
the Human Being stuff
Reminds me of another man who also made a graph: Adam Grant and his TEDTalk, “Are You a Giver or a Taker?”
“Not all Takers are narcissists, some are just Givers who’ve been burned one too many times.”
I think I’ll send these to my staff.
For more on . . .
-N- Stuff : Humanity : Adam Grant : TEDTalks : Simon Sinek
“You can pay people, strangers to do stuff on the internet for you.” That’s how Fiverr Jesus got his fame and current income, by getting people to hire him to impersonate the Son of God and say whatever it is they want him to say. And what strikes me as deeply ironic is, in many ways, that is exactly why he left the church. Because people were using the names and words of Jesus and abusing them for personal gain or irrational purposes.
Something people have been doing for as long as there was a god to manipulate for their own personal interests.
And he is still doing it. Fiverr Jesus convinces himself that what he is doing is right and good because, basically, that’s what Jesus did while he was on earth; he went around pissing people off. Which, yet again, he is using the name of Jesus to do what he wants rather than guiding what he should be doing.
It is true, it does seem as though Jesus spent a great deal of his time pissing people off, but for the sake of doing so, and not because he found any joy or hilarity (and certainly not income) from it, but because it was the right thing to do. He was tearing down the hypocritical system, and he was doing it for the benefit of everyone else, not merely himself.
Something Fiverr Jesus knows very little about.
“In 2007, Errol Morris wrote a three-part series for the NY Times about a pair of photos taken by Roger Fenton of the Crimean War in 1855. Taken from the same position on the same day, one of the photographs shows cannonballs scattered on a road while in the other photo, the road is clear of cannonballs. Which one, Morris wondered, was taken first and why?” (via).
Although he can never answer why they were moved, he does conclude which one was taken first.
This doctoring of a photo reminds me of another famous photo (this was doctored by the Soviet Union) that was recently discovered as fraud. Both have been manipulated for very specific reasons, and both - in their altered version - caused quite a stir.
What’s interesting to me is although both are altered, only one seems to be morally wrong. The Soviet picture was manipulated to save ridicule and produce and makes the Soviets seem better than they are. Which is wrong.
This one, however, is making the situation worse for the purpose of drawing more people into the harshness of the war, so they’re more sympathetic, more involved. And that, to me at least, is an entirely different motive and one that can be argued. Do the ends justify the means? Sometimes.
And perhaps this is one of those times.
For more on . . .
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 . . .
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
So, so good.
For more on . . .
Since the 1970's Majuli islander Jadav Payeng has been planting trees in order to save his island. To date he has single handedly planted a forest larger than Central Park NYC. His forest has transformed what was once a barren wasteland, into a lush oasis.
Above my computer at work, a quote reads, “You know what’s stupid . . . crying, whining and complaining about your situation while doing absolutely nothing to try and change it.”
People like Jadav Payeng embody that truth.
For more on . . .
How satisfying is that?
What’s crazy is, with the addition of the music, it seems so joyful. Yet, when considering the amount of time, effort, man-power, and environmental factors (rain, cold, ice, ect), I cannot imagine how the laborours endured. Or the plans.
The bridge constructed is the real-life Charles Bridge in Prague, which took several decades to build!
This, From Amusing Planet, helps put the construction into some perspective.
Construction of the Charles Bridge started in 1357, under the auspices of King Charles IV, but it was not completed until the beginning of the 15th century. The bridge has 16 arches and 15 pillars, each shielded by ice guards. It’s 512 meters long and nearly 10 meters wide. The balustrade is decorated with 30 statues and statuaries depicting various saints and patron saints, although these were erected much later, between 1683 and 1714. To preserve these statues, they were replaced with replicas during the 1960s. The originals are at Prague’s National Museum.
Until the middle of the 19th century, the Charles Bridge was the only crossing on river Vltava, which made the bridge an important connection between Prague Castle and the city’s Old Town and adjacent areas.
As the only crossing, I can imagine it garnered it’s fair share of wages. Which is why, I think, this construction is so interesting. Because King Charles the IV would never see its completion, yet he deemed it worthy to build. And so did everyone else who followed.
In our current political climate, can you imagine a string of leaders who take up the ideas and plans of the president prior?
For more on . . .
I have recently been extremely busy. With COVI-19 impacting my school, working towards a doctorate, trying to by our first home, and writing for teacher.org, there has been limited time for almost anything else.
Then, I came across these two videos, both of which have inspired the hell out of me.
The first, A Mile and Hour is something I have modified slightly and incorporated into my monthly life (one Saturday a month). It’s brilliant.
The second is equally brilliant, but for a slightly different purpose: financial constraints. As a single income household, and educator, and way more ideas and plans than I can afford, creating purposeful and useful spaces out of junk has already impacted my life. From office space, garage storage, to our newly installed MakerSpace (at my school), I have installed this philosophy and absolutely friggen love it!
In varying degrees, we all have constraints. Most often it is time and finances.
Not any longer.
For more on . . .
-N- Stuff : On Living : Inspiration. : Beau Miles
“If history has taught us anything it is that the world is an extremely unreliable critique.”
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 . . .
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.”
Protect the Givers from Burnout
Five Minute Favor:Find small ways to add large value to other people’s lives
Lincioni
Encourage Help-seeking
Givers must recognize that it’s okay to be a receive too
Get the Right People on the Bus
One taker can ruin the givers
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
I thought this year couldn’t get any worse. Then this dropped.
Holy friggen hell.
Blockbuster had the option to BUY Netflix, but chose not to. From what I’ve heard, its because a large percentage of their revenue came from late fees, and Netflix didn’t have any.
Interesting.
Man. What a time we are in right now.
If you’re anything like me, you’re on information overload. If you’re also like me (which, lucky you), you are itching for something outside of what is currently driving all conversations and news media outlets.
I hope this can help.
I’ve broken my favorite recent podcasts into two groups: pre COVID and post. Because even the podcast world is consumed with it right now, there was a time before it was all consuming. However, there are still some really good, really refreshing discussions out there about the COVID-19 virus that not only help us shift into or maintain a positive perspective, they just look at this whole thing from a different angel, which is radically refreshing.
Here are my favorites of the past month-ish. Happy listening!!!
Podcasts that I found inspiring before this epidemic took over our lives and all sound waves.
The Worst Game Ever, by 99% Invisible
Deep within the National Museum of American History’s vaults is a battered Atari case containing what’s known as “the worst video game of all time.” The game is E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and it was so bad that not even the might of Steven Spielberg could save it. It was so loathsome that all remaining copies were buried deep in the desert. And it was so horrible that it’s blamed for the collapse of the American home video game industry in the early 1980s.
For educators, this is a must. He may not be talking about your classroom, but he is absolutely talking about your classroom! If we were to look at education the way the gaming industry looks at games, we would be in a much different, much better place.
That’s Just Not Good Enough, by At the Table With Patrick Lencioni:
One of, if not the most, convicting podcast in the bunch. If nothing else, listen to this one. Super good. Crazy challenging.
Alan Weiss, Becoming a Fearless Leader, by Smart People Podcast:
Perhaps the most abstract or even controversial, it is packed full of nuggets and ideas that are absolutely worth hearing. I found it inspiring.
Podcasts I found inspiring since the epidemic.
This is Chance! Redux, by 99% Invisible:
"It was the middle of the night on March 27, 1964. Earlier that evening, the second-biggest earthquake ever measured at the time had hit Anchorage, Alaska. 115 people died." Yet, this story is full of hope and is a sort of model for how we can and should be living our lives amidst pain and destruction. Which is exactly the kind of story we need right now.
Leadership Doesn't Stop, by At the Table With Patrick Lencioni:
It might seem that this applies only to those with "leadership" titles, but truly, it works for us all. I strongly encourage this for everyone.
Brené on Comparative Suffering, the 50/50 Myth, and Settling the Ball, by Brene Brown:
An extremely encouraging podcast about where we are, how to have great and intentional conversations with our loved ones during this time, and where to go from here. Really, really good.
She has another episode worth listening to, Brene on FFT (F***ing First Times) which is also really, really good. It could be condensed into about 20 minutes, if she were to get rid of all the side stories, but when she talks honest about FFT’s, it's golden.
An Unlikely Superpower, by Invisibilia:
At the age of 60, a Scottish woman named Joy Milne discovers she has a biological gift that allows her to see things that will happen in the future that no one else can see. A look at how we think about the future, and the important ways the future shapes the present.
Her ending monologue is spot-on perfect and something we all
The Side Effects of Social Distancing, by Freakonomics
In just a few weeks, the novel coronavirus has undone a century’s worth of our economic and social habits. What consequences will this have on our future — and is there a silver lining in this very black pandemic cloud?
Where ever you are, stay safe. Stay strong. Happy listening.
For more on . . .
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 . . .
Using .50 caliber shells for necklaces . . . can you imagine?
I love, too, that right after he says it, the music in the background softly sings, “That ain’t right.” Hilarious. Yet true.
Sometimes, imagining what our country once was is almost impossible. But then I take a step back and ask, “Are we that much different now?” Sometimes, it seems, we’ve simply changed the name of the city, the politician, and the reason for our hate and discrimination.
For more on . . .
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 . . .
I tend to watch these quite often, but hardly ever post. And I’m not entirely sure why. But this one really got my attention and seemed more appropriate than most to post.
I especially loved the line, “Beasts love the process just as much as they love the prize.” And of course, “Be phenomenal; be forgotten.”
For more on . . .
