Life On A Tightrope

I have no interest in balancing on a tightrope.  The thought of heights gives me the willies.  There is this feeling I get in the pit of my stomach as I look out over a ledge, a cliff, and even the balcony overlooking our family room.  I never used to feel this way.  I could climb bluffs, trees, and hike fearlessly.  Somewhere along the line, I lost that ability.

I went to very few circuses in my life, but when I did, I was always amazed at the trapeze artists who operated with and sometimes without a net.  They’d walk blindfolded, ride a bike, and sometimes walk backward.  They’d hop or jump, seemingly without fear or concern.  One brave soul would hang upside-down on a swing and catch their teammate or hurl them from one tiny platform to the other.  When I watch gymnasts perform on the balance beam, I’m amazed at the flips, turns, and stunts they’re able to do.  And again, they seem to perform fearlessly and courageously, until they dismount and breathe a sigh of relief.

I think at one time or another, each of us walks on a tightrope.  Sometimes with a net, and sometimes without.  Sometimes we’re way up in the air, while at other times, closer to the ground.  But we walk on a tightrope nonetheless.  That tightrope could be our hopes and fears for our children as they struggle making friends, studying their way through college, securing a good job and managing their debt.  Sometimes that tightrope is our financial situation.  Sometimes that tightrope is our relationship to our spouse, our significant other.  Sometimes ourselves. That tightrope might be our job and position and the daily decisions we make.  We decide to do what is right, fair and just or decide what is politically correct and safe, regardless of whether or not it is right or wrong, good or bad, morally just or not. 

I believe those of us with titles are more often on the tightrope than not.  Depending upon the situation and circumstance, there is a net . . . or not.  There might be those who are supportive, and sometimes those who wait, and perhaps want us to fall.

In The Power of Progress, Teresa Amabile writes, “When people see that leaders can’t or won’t support their work, they view themselves like tightrope walkers working without a net.  When leadership or other groups actively hinder their work, they feel like someone is shaking that tightrope.” Scary thought isn’t it?  Scary or not, I see the truth in that statement.

If we realize that each of us is at one time or another on a tightrope, we can support each other, cheer each other on, and help catch one another when we fall.  I think that might be a better way to live.  Support, encouragement, friendship are sometimes in short supply.  They don’t have to be.  Really!  We can choose to supply them to each other . . .  and to ourselves.  Really!  Something to think about . . .

 
Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

The Memories We Make

Like dust or lint, like coins or stamps or photographs, we collect memories in various ways.  Think of a roller coaster.  My mention of it brings a memory, happy or thrilling or perhaps frightening to you as if it were a moment ago.  Chances are you can picture who you were with, the clothes you had on, and which park that roller coaster was in.  Memories are powerful indicators of where we were, what we’ve done and in some cases, who we were.  I say who we were, because we change over time or at least have presented to us the opportunity to change.

My daughter, Emily, wrote a descriptive essay for her English class.  She titled it, Fire.  In it, she talked about the cottage and the fire pit, which is her favorite place at the cottage.  The stories and laughter that were shared, the s’mores that were eaten, the chorus of frogs and crickets in the dark, the fish splashing in the lake.  I knew that the cottage means a lot to her.  But she wrote this based on her memories, which were built over time.  And interestingly enough, we’ve not been to the cottage in three years.  How powerful our memories are!

My older daughter, Hannah, likes family get-togethers because we tell family stories.  Some are embarrassing, many of them funny, some sad.  It’s a glimpse of our life growing up and gives her, and each other, a reassurance of family history.  The tree fort, the tire swing, the green apple tree, the river.  The card game after holiday meals, the camping trips and the tent that leaked each and every summer it was used, and the family sing-a-longs.  The Saturday morning ritual of my mom, Hannah’s grandmother, baking bread and buns in the kitchen and the rich, mouthwatering smell associated with that.  Hannah never experienced this, but through our story telling and our laughter, sometimes our tears, she gets to imagine it, perhaps live it for herself.

In an earlier post, A Drop In The Ocean, I talked about how my life was transformed by a teacher, Mrs. Mehring.  To this day, 49 years later, I can picture the classroom, my desk, her face, the color of her hair, the tone of her voice and some of the words she used.  I can do that with Sr. Josephe’ Marie, my sixth grade teacher, who to this day, I still correspond with and who I seek advice from.  Parents, friends, other family members.  Family trips.

Which all lead me to, The Memories We Make.  Formed from the words we use and the tone of voice used to express them, places we’ve been to and who we were with.  Formed from our actions, a touch, a whisper, a smile, a pat on the back or a hug.  Formed by just being present, by listening, by consoling, by . . .

What is our part in the memories being made by those around us?  What memories will our children make from the material we give them?  What memory will our wife or husband make from our words, our actions, our gestures?  What memories will our colleagues- those above and below and on the same level- make from our interactions with them?  In short, how will we be remembered, or more importantly, how do we want to be remembered?  If what we’re doing and saying today is contrary to that answer, perhaps we need to change course and get back on that path that will lead to the memory we want people, our children, our loved ones, our friends and acquaintances to remember us by.  Whether we like it or not, each of us helps make memories for others.  And for ourselves.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Live, Make A Difference!

Suffer The Children

No, it should be, Suffer Not The Children!

Already this morning, I had a young lady in my office whose last day is Friday.  She’s being pulled out of school to live with a relative in Mississippi.  Already this morning, I had a lawyer in my office who was appointed by the judge to act as Guardian Ad Litem for a different young lady and her younger brother.  Already this morning, I saw a young man walking in the hallway by himself with his head down.  He raised it when he saw me, smiled and said, “Hello.”  It took six months to get him to smile and say hello to me.  Two weeks ago, I was in a room with kids who talked about having to steal food in order to eat.  A young lady, an honor’s student, talked about having to place rubber bands on sleeves and pant cuffs to keep cockroaches out of her clothing while she sleeps. A girl talked about not knowing where she will sleep that evening because they lost their home and they don’t have enough money for a motel.

Suffer Not The Children!

It has been a month or so since the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting.  I had to wait this long in order to comment on it because it still brings tears to my eyes: the teacher who died, but saved her children by hiding them in a closet; the little boy who was wrapped in an aide’s arms as they comforted each other before they both died.  That image in particular will stay with me forever.  It is permanently etched in my memory.  I cannot fathom, cannot imagine the loss, the sadness, the devastation. And yes, I still get choked up when thinking about it.  More sad than anger, but I assure you, the anger is there bubbling just below the surface.

Suffer Not The Children!

Like many of you who read this and have children of your own, you would do anything you could to protect them.  If possible, you’d give them the sun, moon and stars as gifts, and move mountains out of their way so their journey through life is smooth.  Like many of you who read this and have children, you can picture their smiles, know their laughter from a crowd of other kids, know exactly what they’re thinking as they hear a particular song or watch a scene on TV or in a movie.  Going to a book store, you already know the kind of book they’ll gravitate to, their favorite flavor of ice cream, their favorite meal, what and who hurts their feelings.  Especially what and who hurts their feelings.

Suffer Not The Children!

My daughter, Emily, loves happy endings.  When I tell her that life is not a Disney movie, she states matter-of-factly, “Well, it ought to be!”  And she’s right.  It’s up to us to at least try to help our children grow intelligently, smartly, make wise and good decisions, to grow in grace and wisdom and have enough- more if possible, but at least enough.  To know that there are those of us who care about them, who love them, and who hurt so very much more than they do when they are hurt.  We can’t take away all the sorrow and pain from them, their struggle.  We can teach them that getting knocked down isn’t a big deal unless they don’t get back up.  And, we can be there with a hand to help them to get back on their feet, help dust them off and with a pat on the back, help them move along their path in life.  We can love them, and hold them, and listen to them, and be silent with them.  We can be there for them.

Suffer Not The Children!

Dear God, please, no more!  Not again!  Never again!  Please, Suffer Not The Children!

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

If I Coulda-Woulda-Shoulda

I know we’ve played this game before- each of us, and I have serious doubts if anyone ever won, yet we play it over and over and over . . .

As a former coach, I watched game film and would beat myself up for not calling this time out, or not substituting this player for that player, for keeping this player in too long, for not changing this defense or that offense, for . . . As a teacher, I’d review test or quiz scores and think, if I had taught it this way, or in talking to a student who ended up hurt or disappointed, if I would have said this or not said that . . .  As a parent, I shake my head at some of the things I’ve said or have done with my children.  As a principal, as a person, as . . .  I think you get the picture.

No one wins this game.  No one.  Not the best of us, not the worst of us, not Joe-Average.  No one wins.  Hindsight is 20-20.  The problem is if we continually look backward and question each and every decision, each and every mistake, that’s all we end up doing in life.  We never progress, we never grow, we never become.

I don’t know who said this or I would attribute it correctly, but it goes like this:  “Never regret anything that has happened in your life; it cannot be changed, undone or forgotten.  So take it as a lesson learned and move on.”  What a great message!  It frees us from the never-ending cycle of “If I Coulda-Woulda-Shoulda”.  Yet, how difficult it is to quit that game.  In an earlier post, I wrote that “meditation and self-reflection can be hell on those of us who are perfectionists, even though we realize we are human”.  The self-reflective person naturally begins to play this game because we sincerely want to change, to do better and to not make the same mistake over and over again.  Self-reflection is a wonderful thing.  It is how we get better.  Yet, the never-ending game of “If I Coulda-Woulda-Shoulda” is a losing proposition because it doesn’t allow us to grow or to change.

There is an African Proverb that tells us, “When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.” 

If we play “If I Coulda-Woulda-Shoulda”, we will always develop the enemy within us.  For your sake, for the sake of those around you, please stop playing this destructive game.  Instead, “. . . take it as a lesson learned and move on.”  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Relationships

Ever notice when you go to a pool or beach there are those brave souls who take a running start and sprint into the water and dive right in?  Then there are those, and I include me in this category, who wade in.  We first walk in getting our feet wet, then our legs up to our knees, then (heaven forbid!) our waist, then chest and shoulders and eventually, our head.  We do it slowly, carefully.  It takes time.  We get annoyed at those who splash around us. I mean, can’t they see we’re carefully preparing ourselves for the great submerge?

Relationships are often approached the same way.  There are those who dive right in, while there are those who take their time.  The reasons, the circumstances, the situations vary.  There isn’t a right or wrong way to approach relationships.  It comes down to comfort level.  I believe past experiences come into play.  Perhaps there are those who have been ‘burned’ in the past and as a result, are cautious.  There are those who are bold and no matter the time or place, they enter into relationships easily.

I admire those sprinters who take the rapid plunge, but no matter how much I might admire them, I tend to go slowly.

Whether or not one takes the plunge or moves at the rate of a glacier, I believe depth is the key.  The shallow end isn’t as interesting.  Standing in water up to one’s knee is okay, but a breeze comes up or the aggressive one near you plunges in and splashes you.  There is more to do in the deep end of the pool.  It is more satisfying.

The depth of the relationship is the key.  The more one is willing to share, to experience is the key.  The more one is willing to be receptive, to accept is important.  Take a look at those who are meaningful in your life, those who are so important to you that you long for their voice, a word or laugh from them, or those who are important just to be near even though no word is spoken.  I’m willing to bet you have more depth with them than with others.  The relationships you have in the deep end of the pool are the ones that are most satisfying to you.

No matter if you wade in or take a running start, getting to the deep end of the pool is the key.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!