...but words can scar my soul.
And they do.
My family and will admit to occasionally indulging in a few television shows in recent years where people are judged on their artistic talent, their cooking skills, or their personal style. We enjoy these shows for the presentations and the artistry of the participants but we always skip through the "judging" parts. Why?
Because we don't need to show our kids that ripping someone's work to shreds with words is entertainment.
Because we don't want to show our kids that this is the way to treat people who have worked hard and tried their best.
Because we don't believe that harsh words of criticism are any way to encourage and inspire others.
When did Americans become so outwardly critical of one another? It's not just on TV either - I've heard working moms criticize stay-at-home moms for not working and stay-at-home moms criticize working moms for not staying at home. I've seen grown women cry because of mean things said to them at volunteer meetings. I've seen adult men be upset for weeks because of a nasty thing a boss or co-worker said to them in a public setting. Does seeing criticism so blatantly espoused by celebrities on television make it easier and more acceptable to do in our daily lives?
It's even easier to be mean to one another today through non-confrontive means such as email or texts. How many times have we heard of kids being cyber-bullied with tragic outcomes? It's disgraceful, it's disgusting, and I'm often amazed at the vitriol that people are able to spew at one another without giving it a second thought. Yes, it's the criticizer's fault, not the object of the criticism, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt sometimes.
I just want to say to everyone: Enough is enough!! We are all working hard every single day to lead fulfilling lives and have meaningful experiences. Each one of us deserves to be happy and enjoy the short time we have here on Earth by living up to our fullest potential. We don't need people cutting us down and stomping on our dreams just because they may disagree with our choices or because they don't like what we like. None of us is perfect and none of us ever will be, but we don't need other people in our lives pointing out what they think our flaws are. (Most of us do that well enough ourselves without help, thank you.)
I recently gave an interactive performance for young children and their parents. It went very well, everyone was smiling and participating the whole time, but when it was over I braced myself for the criticism. I knew it was coming because no matter how hard you work or how well you think something goes, someone always has something negative to say about it. Interestingly, the criticism never came. I received only positive feedback which made me realize 2 things:
1. Apparently it's not "always."
2. When you do something from your heart but are constantly worried about how it's going to be received, you never really put your whole heart into it. You're holding back in some way because you think that somehow that will prevent someone from being negative, or if someone does say something unkind, you can console yourself by telling yourself that you protected yourself a little bit by not giving it your all. The mean stuff can never really get all the way in since you didn't put yourself all the way out.
I'll tell you, that's a crummy way to live.
So what's the solution? That's a tough one because there are some really mean people out there and when they insult you personally it's not easy to just let those words roll off of your back, even though we know we're supposed to just blow it off and say "Oh, it's their problem."
Well, one answer would be to make sure you are never that critical person. You can't control what another person is going to say or do but you can control yourself. Make the decision to not be that jerk who cuts people off at the knees with your words, and make a commitment to be encouraging and uplifting to those around you, even when maybe you don't want to be.
Of course there are times when someone might actually need constructive criticism, which can be extremely helpful when presented in the right way. In that case I've heard that it's productive to give three examples of positive things before explaining where the person needs work. Before you speak, always put yourself in the other person's shoes and think "what would I like or not like to hear in this situation." Never say anything that you know would be hurtful, and if you inadvertently hurt someone, (it happens) own up to it immediately and apologize. It's actually very simple.
It seems odd that most people don't act this way naturally. Which makes me wonder, is it human nature to treat other people poorly? Does this all go back to survival of the fittest on an anthropological level? I don't know. But here is what I do know:
Keep the people in your life who truly love you, motivate you, encourage you, inspire you, enhance you and make you happy. If there are people in your life who do none of those things, let them go. ~Author unknown
AND:
What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other? ~George Eliot
Last I checked, the mortality rate for human beings was 100%. We're all in this together. How about if we treat others as we would like to be treated?
Give me sticks and stones any day. Bones heal. Souls may not.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
O Captain My Captain
Robin Williams died yesterday. While I did not know him personally, I find myself mourning the loss of him today. Especially upon learning the fact that he took his own life. So shocking to hear that a person who spread so much joy into the world was wrestling with such pain and sadness within.
I was one of those people for whom the film Dead Poets Society was an almost religious experience. "Carpe Diem!" became my mantra, I had the amazing opportunity to visit the school and other locations where the movie was shot, and for a while in grad school I had the enormous cardboard movie theater display taking up a good deal of my apartment.
In that movie, Robin Williams as Mr. Keating, encourages his students, along with us the movie watchers, to seize the day, and make our lives extraordinary. Why? Because too soon our lives would be over and he didn't want any of us to regret not living up to our full potentials, and not making the very most out of every moment. Now that teacher's life is over, and while it was definitely too soon, it is evident that he indeed "sucked the marrow out of life" even while dealing with his own inner demons. Thankfully for all of us, in doing so, he made the world a much much better place.
To celebrate the life of a brilliant genie, a hilarious alien, a compassionate psychiatrist, and an inspiring teacher, I'll be wearing my Carpe Diem shirt today, standing on a desk, and pondering the next way that I can consciously make my life extraordinary. Thank you O Captain My Captain.
I was one of those people for whom the film Dead Poets Society was an almost religious experience. "Carpe Diem!" became my mantra, I had the amazing opportunity to visit the school and other locations where the movie was shot, and for a while in grad school I had the enormous cardboard movie theater display taking up a good deal of my apartment.
In that movie, Robin Williams as Mr. Keating, encourages his students, along with us the movie watchers, to seize the day, and make our lives extraordinary. Why? Because too soon our lives would be over and he didn't want any of us to regret not living up to our full potentials, and not making the very most out of every moment. Now that teacher's life is over, and while it was definitely too soon, it is evident that he indeed "sucked the marrow out of life" even while dealing with his own inner demons. Thankfully for all of us, in doing so, he made the world a much much better place.
To celebrate the life of a brilliant genie, a hilarious alien, a compassionate psychiatrist, and an inspiring teacher, I'll be wearing my Carpe Diem shirt today, standing on a desk, and pondering the next way that I can consciously make my life extraordinary. Thank you O Captain My Captain.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Cracking Up at the DMV
...and I don't mean as in going crazy because of the wait time. I mean cracking up as in laughing so hard and long that your cheeks hurt.
Yesterday was a prime example of the concept "Life is What You Make It." My fifteen-year-old daughter and I had to go the DMV to get a replacement driver's permit. (The original was left in a jacket which was left in a security bin at the entrance to the Chunnel Train on the London side.) We had gone down there the week before, only to find out that the wait time was more than 5 hours - which was amusing since they closed in 4 hours. We gratefully learned that we could make an appointment and come back.
(As an aside, I believe that being able to make an appointment at the DMV is akin to discovering electricity - a brilliant solution to making the world a better, more efficient place.)
We made our appointment and returned the following week, right on time. I punched in our arrival on the welcome screen at the door, and to my amazement, we were taken immediately. We didn't even move from our spot at the entrance and our number was called. (see above aside)
After five minutes at the counter, we were then directed over to the waiting area so my daughter could have a replacement photo taken. As we sat down she noticed the electronic reader board on the wall and said, "Oh cool, it's that trivia game." I looked up and remembered that the last time we were here we had wiled away our time trying to answer the extremely random and varied questions that shot across the board in-between the rules and regulations of the DMV. (Including keeping noise to a minimum...we didn't exactly follow that one.)
So we started playing. Question after question we kept getting the answers wrong. Five minutes turned into ten, ten minutes became twenty, and while everyone around us got more and more annoyed, frustrated, and grumpy with the wait time, the two of us got sillier and gigglier.
Did we get strange looks? Yep. Were people around us annoyed by our laughter and high fives when we guessed correctly? Visibly so. Did we care one bit? Nope.
You see, not only were we trying to answer these ridiculous questions, but sometimes the questions would remind us of something funny, or spark a memory of something, and we'd talk about those things, which would start us laughing, often collapsing into each other, which inevitably distracted us from the next question, and sometimes we'd only see the answer and then try to think of the question that might have preceded it, which often made us crack up even more.
In short, we were having a grand time. So much so that after a few minutes the older gentleman sitting next to me asked, "Are you two here just for the entertainment?"
We were determined to get at least one answer right and I'm glad to report that by the end of our 50 minute wait we had 10 correct answers out of the more than probably 70+ that we saw. At one point my daughter was getting a little weary so she put her head on my shoulder and we played that way for a while. In that moment I took a second to recognize and appreciate the situation:
Here we were, in a drab, dingy, incredibly uninviting atmosphere, sitting on uncomfortable chairs, surrounded (and I mean packed in like sardines) by strangers who would have all preferred being just about anywhere else at that time. The guy next to me had terrible breath, the guy next to my daughter had B.O., and there was dark cloud hanging over everyone in the place.
Except for us. For us the sun was shining and the DMV was a glorious place to be. Especially for me as I realized how things could have gone:
I could have been angry that she lost her permit and we had to go all the way here TWICE, only to have to wait for a really long time.
I wasn't.
I could have been annoyed and bothered that even though we had made an appointment, we still had to wait for a really long time, and I could have let her know that this was all her fault.
I didn't.
She could have had her teenaged face buried in her phone, completely ignoring me and everything else around her.
She didn't.
Instead we chose to have the most fun we could possibly have despite our circumstances, and even used our circumstances to help us have that fun. When my husband called later in the day he asked how it went and I said, "We had the best time at the DMV!" to which he replied, "I'll bet that's the first time anyone's said THAT!"
Happiness is a choice. Yesterday could have been a wretched, boring, frustrating time that we would have looked back on with irritation and aggravation. Instead we get to look back on it as a cherished and special time shared together.
Life is, indeed, what you make it. Even at the DMV.
Yesterday was a prime example of the concept "Life is What You Make It." My fifteen-year-old daughter and I had to go the DMV to get a replacement driver's permit. (The original was left in a jacket which was left in a security bin at the entrance to the Chunnel Train on the London side.) We had gone down there the week before, only to find out that the wait time was more than 5 hours - which was amusing since they closed in 4 hours. We gratefully learned that we could make an appointment and come back.
(As an aside, I believe that being able to make an appointment at the DMV is akin to discovering electricity - a brilliant solution to making the world a better, more efficient place.)
We made our appointment and returned the following week, right on time. I punched in our arrival on the welcome screen at the door, and to my amazement, we were taken immediately. We didn't even move from our spot at the entrance and our number was called. (see above aside)
After five minutes at the counter, we were then directed over to the waiting area so my daughter could have a replacement photo taken. As we sat down she noticed the electronic reader board on the wall and said, "Oh cool, it's that trivia game." I looked up and remembered that the last time we were here we had wiled away our time trying to answer the extremely random and varied questions that shot across the board in-between the rules and regulations of the DMV. (Including keeping noise to a minimum...we didn't exactly follow that one.)
So we started playing. Question after question we kept getting the answers wrong. Five minutes turned into ten, ten minutes became twenty, and while everyone around us got more and more annoyed, frustrated, and grumpy with the wait time, the two of us got sillier and gigglier.
Did we get strange looks? Yep. Were people around us annoyed by our laughter and high fives when we guessed correctly? Visibly so. Did we care one bit? Nope.
You see, not only were we trying to answer these ridiculous questions, but sometimes the questions would remind us of something funny, or spark a memory of something, and we'd talk about those things, which would start us laughing, often collapsing into each other, which inevitably distracted us from the next question, and sometimes we'd only see the answer and then try to think of the question that might have preceded it, which often made us crack up even more.
In short, we were having a grand time. So much so that after a few minutes the older gentleman sitting next to me asked, "Are you two here just for the entertainment?"
We were determined to get at least one answer right and I'm glad to report that by the end of our 50 minute wait we had 10 correct answers out of the more than probably 70+ that we saw. At one point my daughter was getting a little weary so she put her head on my shoulder and we played that way for a while. In that moment I took a second to recognize and appreciate the situation:
Here we were, in a drab, dingy, incredibly uninviting atmosphere, sitting on uncomfortable chairs, surrounded (and I mean packed in like sardines) by strangers who would have all preferred being just about anywhere else at that time. The guy next to me had terrible breath, the guy next to my daughter had B.O., and there was dark cloud hanging over everyone in the place.
Except for us. For us the sun was shining and the DMV was a glorious place to be. Especially for me as I realized how things could have gone:
I could have been angry that she lost her permit and we had to go all the way here TWICE, only to have to wait for a really long time.
I wasn't.
I could have been annoyed and bothered that even though we had made an appointment, we still had to wait for a really long time, and I could have let her know that this was all her fault.
I didn't.
She could have had her teenaged face buried in her phone, completely ignoring me and everything else around her.
She didn't.
Instead we chose to have the most fun we could possibly have despite our circumstances, and even used our circumstances to help us have that fun. When my husband called later in the day he asked how it went and I said, "We had the best time at the DMV!" to which he replied, "I'll bet that's the first time anyone's said THAT!"
Happiness is a choice. Yesterday could have been a wretched, boring, frustrating time that we would have looked back on with irritation and aggravation. Instead we get to look back on it as a cherished and special time shared together.
Life is, indeed, what you make it. Even at the DMV.
Monday, July 7, 2014
To Laugh or Not To Laugh
I love to laugh. I mean, who doesn't, right? But I, and my family, really love it. We go out of our way to find things to make us laugh, and we have spent many happy hours together guffawing until our stomachs hurt.
I have a very distinctive laugh. I've been told it's infectious, I've been told it's joyful, but most often I've been told...it's loud. How loud you ask? Well, someone once told me that they were in the grocery store, heard my laugh from afar and thought to themselves, "Oh, Rachel must be in Produce." It's not a nasal, Fran Drescher type of laugh, nor is it a raucous howling one, it's more the sound of a regular laugh, just dialed up a few notches. (It is often accompanied by my head thrown back or the occasional clapping of my hands together.)
I bring this up is because today in the store I was sharing a laugh with one of the clerks, and as I walked away another clerk peeked her head out from one of the aisles and said, "I love your laugh. It's so boisterous." To which I replied, "Really? Some people hate it." To which she replied, "Oh no - it's great!" I smiled, thanked her, and as I left the store I got to thinking about those people who have told me to my face just how annoying and unnecessary my lively and energetic laugh is.
I realized something in that moment. Every single one of those people falls into the category of being one of the most miserable people I have ever met. It seems like they don't like loud laughter because they don't know what to do with that much joy in close proximity. They don't know how to laugh at anything, so a great deal of laughter must make them very uncomfortable.
If enough people tell you something about yourself, whether it's right or wrong, you begin to believe it. As a result, I have consciously held myself back from laughing in the presence of these people (and others too) because I didn't want to offend them, nor did I want to risk being verbally put down again. But what does that do? It suppresses my sparkle and my love for life because these people can't handle it. I'm bringing myself down, to their level of darkness, because they can't stand the light. One could argue that these people need to be exposed to laughter and joy the most.
I wish it could be the other way around - I wish that being around happiness could bring unhappy people up to a level of joy where they can feel comfortable to laugh and enjoy life themselves. But in my experience, that rarely happens.
Which makes me holding back my happiness absolutely ridiculous! What's the point? My loud, exuberant laugh is part of who I am, and no one should ever subdue something that is a part of them, no matter how people might react or how they will be viewed.
So, to laugh, or not to laugh? I have learned that some people will laugh along with me, and some people will shake their heads in disgust. But I'll tell you this, those of us who are laughing will be having a great time enjoying life. Care to join me? I'll be in Produce.
I have a very distinctive laugh. I've been told it's infectious, I've been told it's joyful, but most often I've been told...it's loud. How loud you ask? Well, someone once told me that they were in the grocery store, heard my laugh from afar and thought to themselves, "Oh, Rachel must be in Produce." It's not a nasal, Fran Drescher type of laugh, nor is it a raucous howling one, it's more the sound of a regular laugh, just dialed up a few notches. (It is often accompanied by my head thrown back or the occasional clapping of my hands together.)
I bring this up is because today in the store I was sharing a laugh with one of the clerks, and as I walked away another clerk peeked her head out from one of the aisles and said, "I love your laugh. It's so boisterous." To which I replied, "Really? Some people hate it." To which she replied, "Oh no - it's great!" I smiled, thanked her, and as I left the store I got to thinking about those people who have told me to my face just how annoying and unnecessary my lively and energetic laugh is.
I realized something in that moment. Every single one of those people falls into the category of being one of the most miserable people I have ever met. It seems like they don't like loud laughter because they don't know what to do with that much joy in close proximity. They don't know how to laugh at anything, so a great deal of laughter must make them very uncomfortable.
If enough people tell you something about yourself, whether it's right or wrong, you begin to believe it. As a result, I have consciously held myself back from laughing in the presence of these people (and others too) because I didn't want to offend them, nor did I want to risk being verbally put down again. But what does that do? It suppresses my sparkle and my love for life because these people can't handle it. I'm bringing myself down, to their level of darkness, because they can't stand the light. One could argue that these people need to be exposed to laughter and joy the most.
I wish it could be the other way around - I wish that being around happiness could bring unhappy people up to a level of joy where they can feel comfortable to laugh and enjoy life themselves. But in my experience, that rarely happens.
Which makes me holding back my happiness absolutely ridiculous! What's the point? My loud, exuberant laugh is part of who I am, and no one should ever subdue something that is a part of them, no matter how people might react or how they will be viewed.
So, to laugh, or not to laugh? I have learned that some people will laugh along with me, and some people will shake their heads in disgust. But I'll tell you this, those of us who are laughing will be having a great time enjoying life. Care to join me? I'll be in Produce.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Holding my Tongue
I was angry today. So angry in fact that I was trying to remember the last time I was this angry. I think it was 6 or 7 years ago.
Anyway, the instigator of my ire was someone we've met before. Remember the lady who regularly dusts her pipes from a few posts ago? Well she did something that, in my opinion was extremely disrespectful, mean, and uncalled for, all so that she could be sure to have her way. It's way too complicated to explain - suffice it to say I was offended, upset, and above all, hot lava steaming mad.
(To be honest, I have no idea why I had such a strong reaction to this particular thing. On a different day it's very possible that I simply would have let it roll off of my proverbial back. But for whatever reason, today was not that day.) What she did was done by email, and as the world would have it, I actually had to come in contact with her later on in the day. There was no way around it and I had a plan.
I thought of the most nasty, insulting, hurtful thing I could say to her. I thought about it in the shower, I thought about it while I was walking the dog, I thought about it off and on all day. And while I do not consider myself to be a mean person, saying these awful things to this person was going to bring me untold satisfaction and vindication, which I felt I richly deserved.
Just before leaving, while putting some things away, I came across a little tiny book that I was planning to give my mother as a gift. I had never actually looked inside it, so I opened it up to a random page. Here is what it said:
For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, try to find it,
If there be none, never mind it.
Wow. I had never heard that before and it really resonated with me at that moment. I sat down and read it again, and again, and one more time after that. The words sank into me slowly and I realized, there is no remedy. Not in this instance anyway. This is an awful person, who does ridiculous things for her own self-interests, and my job is to "never mind it." I don't need to spend one more moment of my life thinking about it, or worrying about it, or planning my revenge. There is simply no remedy to this situation so it has no place in my heart or bones or brain.
I closed the book, and the anger that had been boiling inside me for some time now melted into a sea of calmness. I wasn't mad anymore. What she did was still wrong, but I could make the choice to not let it get to me. Now there's some power that I could exert! Much more powerful than what my tongue could have said in an instant, and that, once out there, could never be taken back.
Now, I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat, wondering what happened when I finally saw this woman (who, by the way, has earned the nickname "The Troll" in our house). Well, as enlightened as I was feeling, I still didn't trust myself 100% to not let something just a little bit noxious come out so I had someone else at the place drop off the thing I needed to give to her. And honestly, I still wasn't satisfied. I was glad that I had taken the high road, but a part of me still wanted her to know that she had been incredibly out of line and disrespectful to me.
And then, a line from my childhood came back to me:
"What is hateful to you, do not do to any person." Spoken by Hillel, as the fundamental foundation on which human beings should build their lives. I have had people say mean and hurtful things to me and they made me feel terrible. What kind of person would I be if I consciously did something to someone else (deservedly or not) that was calculated to hurt them as much as possible? Answer: Not the kind of person that I want to be, nor the kind of example that I want to set for my children. So I said absolutely nothing. I successfully managed to avoid seeing her, which helped, but I have to believe that had our paths crossed this evening I would have held my tongue and not spewed more anger and hatred and vitriol into the world.
Was this difficult? Sure. Was it the right thing to do? You bet. Will I sleep well tonight? Undoubtedly.
But she won't. She'll be lying awake worrying about the dust accumulating on her pipes. She has enough anguish in her life as it is, she doesn't need any more from me.
Anyway, the instigator of my ire was someone we've met before. Remember the lady who regularly dusts her pipes from a few posts ago? Well she did something that, in my opinion was extremely disrespectful, mean, and uncalled for, all so that she could be sure to have her way. It's way too complicated to explain - suffice it to say I was offended, upset, and above all, hot lava steaming mad.
(To be honest, I have no idea why I had such a strong reaction to this particular thing. On a different day it's very possible that I simply would have let it roll off of my proverbial back. But for whatever reason, today was not that day.) What she did was done by email, and as the world would have it, I actually had to come in contact with her later on in the day. There was no way around it and I had a plan.
I thought of the most nasty, insulting, hurtful thing I could say to her. I thought about it in the shower, I thought about it while I was walking the dog, I thought about it off and on all day. And while I do not consider myself to be a mean person, saying these awful things to this person was going to bring me untold satisfaction and vindication, which I felt I richly deserved.
Just before leaving, while putting some things away, I came across a little tiny book that I was planning to give my mother as a gift. I had never actually looked inside it, so I opened it up to a random page. Here is what it said:
For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, try to find it,
If there be none, never mind it.
Wow. I had never heard that before and it really resonated with me at that moment. I sat down and read it again, and again, and one more time after that. The words sank into me slowly and I realized, there is no remedy. Not in this instance anyway. This is an awful person, who does ridiculous things for her own self-interests, and my job is to "never mind it." I don't need to spend one more moment of my life thinking about it, or worrying about it, or planning my revenge. There is simply no remedy to this situation so it has no place in my heart or bones or brain.
I closed the book, and the anger that had been boiling inside me for some time now melted into a sea of calmness. I wasn't mad anymore. What she did was still wrong, but I could make the choice to not let it get to me. Now there's some power that I could exert! Much more powerful than what my tongue could have said in an instant, and that, once out there, could never be taken back.
Now, I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat, wondering what happened when I finally saw this woman (who, by the way, has earned the nickname "The Troll" in our house). Well, as enlightened as I was feeling, I still didn't trust myself 100% to not let something just a little bit noxious come out so I had someone else at the place drop off the thing I needed to give to her. And honestly, I still wasn't satisfied. I was glad that I had taken the high road, but a part of me still wanted her to know that she had been incredibly out of line and disrespectful to me.
And then, a line from my childhood came back to me:
"What is hateful to you, do not do to any person." Spoken by Hillel, as the fundamental foundation on which human beings should build their lives. I have had people say mean and hurtful things to me and they made me feel terrible. What kind of person would I be if I consciously did something to someone else (deservedly or not) that was calculated to hurt them as much as possible? Answer: Not the kind of person that I want to be, nor the kind of example that I want to set for my children. So I said absolutely nothing. I successfully managed to avoid seeing her, which helped, but I have to believe that had our paths crossed this evening I would have held my tongue and not spewed more anger and hatred and vitriol into the world.
Was this difficult? Sure. Was it the right thing to do? You bet. Will I sleep well tonight? Undoubtedly.
But she won't. She'll be lying awake worrying about the dust accumulating on her pipes. She has enough anguish in her life as it is, she doesn't need any more from me.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The "Right" Thing to Do
I was faced with an interesting moral dilemma over the weekend, that I can honestly say would not have been dilemma at all five or six years ago. But where I am in my life right now, I found myself questioning things that, up until this point, I considered to be givens in a functioning society.
So I was driving home in a nighttime snowstorm - one of those storms that comes up very quickly, drops mountains of snow, sleet, and ice upon whatever happens to be in its path, and generally causes severe havoc on the roads because everyone was unprepared for its rapid onset and unexpected intensity. Now, as I believe I have mentioned here before, I don't like driving even when the sun is out, the birds are singing, and I know where I'm going. In this case, not only was the storm blinding and the roads instantly icy, I was driving in a place where I had never been before and had no idea of any way to get home other than where the GPS was taking me.
But I must say, even in my state of fear and fishtailing, I was doing a pretty good job of not panicking. Then, as I eased my way around a rotary (traffic circle), I felt the car begin to slide out of control. I stepped on the brake, kept sliding...and although I tried my best to swerve out of the way, I ended up hitting a car that was parked in front of some shops inside the rotary.
ARGH! (although that's not the choice word that actually came out of my mouth) I got the car back under control, got out of the rotary, and saw the sign for the highway up ahead.
I almost kept going. I almost skidded and slid my way up to the onramp toward the beacon lights on the highway that would lead me safely home. There had been no one around to see anything, the owner of the car would never know who did it or how it happened, and this was one of those situations where although I made an unavoidable mistake, I could get away with it scot-free and no one would ever be the wiser.
I'm ashamed to say that I actually considered doing just that. But ultimately, my conscience caught up with me and I just couldn't. So I bypassed my exit sign, painstakingly made my way back around to where I had been, parked on the side of the road, and left my name, phone number, and an apology on a piece of paper in the car's windshield wiper. (There was so much snow coming down that I thought (hoped?) that maybe it would end up being soaked through and ultimately unreadable but alas, I got a call from their insurance company the next day asking me about what happened and pointedly letting me know just how much "at fault" I was for the incident.)
The dent on their car was very minor. There was no damage at all to my car since I was going so slowly. The insurance agent told me time and again, "You did the RIGHT thing." My husband told me over and over again, "You did the RIGHT thing." I told myself repeatedly, "You did the RIGHT thing." But then I had to ask myself:
"Did I?"
In many ways, yes, I did. In the "what goes around comes around" category of karmic law, I absolutely did the right thing. In the category of "what would I want someone to do for me in this situation?" I absolutely did the right thing. I believe that most people who believe in the concepts of right and wrong would agree that I absolutely did the right thing. But how many of those people would have stopped? Honestly? Fewer than most, I think.
There were no witnesses. Not another soul was walking by or driving by or looking out of a store window. No one was injured, the car was still drivable, in fact, if I had a dent as small as that one on my own car I probably wouldn't even bother to get it fixed. One could argue that the "right" thing to do in this situation was to get myself home as quickly and safely as possible to avoid a worse accident (of which I passed several on my way home). So how do we define what's right and what's wrong in a situation where it's up to only us?
As I said, a few years ago it never would have occurred to me to NOT stop. I would have known in my heart and in my bones that this is what a person does in this kind of situation. No question, no hesitation. But over the course of my lifetime I have been lied to by friends, abandoned by people who claimed to love me, betrayed by people who swore they would never do such a thing, and sabotaged by co-workers claiming to be on the same team. Time and again I have seen people do only what's right for them, without the slightest regard for what someone else might need or want in a situation, and observe those people leading (what seem to be) very happy and fulfilling lives. I have seen self-centered people get exactly what they want, often at the expense and/or humiliation of others, and it doesn't seem to bother them at all. I know people who go through life only thinking "What's in it for me?" and would have driven on home that night without a thought or care for the person who owned the other car. It wouldn't have occurred to them to stop, even for a moment, or if it had, they would have justified not stopping in the blink of an eye and moved on. For them, the right thing to do, always, is look out for #1 and don't ever put yourself in a position where you could be blamed or have to take responsibility for something unpleasant. I hate to say it, but in that moment of writing down my name and number, I envied those people and their decision-making guidelines more than just a little.
But then I thought, what kind of world would we live in where everyone behaved like those people? Would there be charities to help out people in the midst of a hard time? Would there be communities to rally around others in the wake of a natural disaster like Hurricane Sandy a few weeks ago? Would there even be concepts like compromise, give-and-take, or "do unto others" in our society? It seems to me like while we are certainly taught when we're young about big things being right or wrong (killing, stealing, bullying), we're all born with a conscience to help us out in those situations that can have gray areas.
(And if someone is about to argue about how there are no gray areas when it comes to right and wrong, I would direct them to the news footage of the past few months leading up to our most recent Presidential election. There were sure a lot of people who were absolutely, positively, unequivocally certain that they were right about certain things, and that certain other people and issues were equally as fundamentally wrong.)
So, with all that we've been taught, with all that we've learned, and in the words of Jiminy Cricket, letting our conscience be our guide, how do we know in any given situation what is the right thing to do?
Answer?
We don't. Every situation is different, every person is different, and every person has had a different life experience. Everyone has different opinions on what is right and wrong, and everyone has reasons and justifications for the decisions they make and the actions they do based on them. But I only have control over one of those people.
Me.
I'm the one who looks at my face in the mirror every morning and gets to decide if I like what I see. I'm the one who has to be comfortable going to sleep every night with the choices I have made during the day. I'm the one who has to determine what is right or wrong for ME, in my life, regardless of what other people might say or opine, or do. And the truth is, it doesn't matter if other people are self-centered or selfish or don't care about others. Because they are the ones who have to look themselves in the mirror every day and answer to their conscience, which I have to believe is speaking to them, if ever so faintly.
So do I believe that I did the right thing? Yes. Am I bothered by the fact that I actually questioned that fundamental belief that I've had as long as I can remember? You bet. But it reminded me that no matter what anyone else says or does, I have to live by my own moral code, and that I also have the opportunity and responsibility to teach that code to my children. And if that means stopping in a horrible snowstorm to do something that is pretty much guaranteed to cause me aggravation, stress, and probably a pile of money, I have to do it anyway.
Why?
Because it's the right thing to do.
So I was driving home in a nighttime snowstorm - one of those storms that comes up very quickly, drops mountains of snow, sleet, and ice upon whatever happens to be in its path, and generally causes severe havoc on the roads because everyone was unprepared for its rapid onset and unexpected intensity. Now, as I believe I have mentioned here before, I don't like driving even when the sun is out, the birds are singing, and I know where I'm going. In this case, not only was the storm blinding and the roads instantly icy, I was driving in a place where I had never been before and had no idea of any way to get home other than where the GPS was taking me.
But I must say, even in my state of fear and fishtailing, I was doing a pretty good job of not panicking. Then, as I eased my way around a rotary (traffic circle), I felt the car begin to slide out of control. I stepped on the brake, kept sliding...and although I tried my best to swerve out of the way, I ended up hitting a car that was parked in front of some shops inside the rotary.
ARGH! (although that's not the choice word that actually came out of my mouth) I got the car back under control, got out of the rotary, and saw the sign for the highway up ahead.
I almost kept going. I almost skidded and slid my way up to the onramp toward the beacon lights on the highway that would lead me safely home. There had been no one around to see anything, the owner of the car would never know who did it or how it happened, and this was one of those situations where although I made an unavoidable mistake, I could get away with it scot-free and no one would ever be the wiser.
I'm ashamed to say that I actually considered doing just that. But ultimately, my conscience caught up with me and I just couldn't. So I bypassed my exit sign, painstakingly made my way back around to where I had been, parked on the side of the road, and left my name, phone number, and an apology on a piece of paper in the car's windshield wiper. (There was so much snow coming down that I thought (hoped?) that maybe it would end up being soaked through and ultimately unreadable but alas, I got a call from their insurance company the next day asking me about what happened and pointedly letting me know just how much "at fault" I was for the incident.)
The dent on their car was very minor. There was no damage at all to my car since I was going so slowly. The insurance agent told me time and again, "You did the RIGHT thing." My husband told me over and over again, "You did the RIGHT thing." I told myself repeatedly, "You did the RIGHT thing." But then I had to ask myself:
"Did I?"
In many ways, yes, I did. In the "what goes around comes around" category of karmic law, I absolutely did the right thing. In the category of "what would I want someone to do for me in this situation?" I absolutely did the right thing. I believe that most people who believe in the concepts of right and wrong would agree that I absolutely did the right thing. But how many of those people would have stopped? Honestly? Fewer than most, I think.
There were no witnesses. Not another soul was walking by or driving by or looking out of a store window. No one was injured, the car was still drivable, in fact, if I had a dent as small as that one on my own car I probably wouldn't even bother to get it fixed. One could argue that the "right" thing to do in this situation was to get myself home as quickly and safely as possible to avoid a worse accident (of which I passed several on my way home). So how do we define what's right and what's wrong in a situation where it's up to only us?
As I said, a few years ago it never would have occurred to me to NOT stop. I would have known in my heart and in my bones that this is what a person does in this kind of situation. No question, no hesitation. But over the course of my lifetime I have been lied to by friends, abandoned by people who claimed to love me, betrayed by people who swore they would never do such a thing, and sabotaged by co-workers claiming to be on the same team. Time and again I have seen people do only what's right for them, without the slightest regard for what someone else might need or want in a situation, and observe those people leading (what seem to be) very happy and fulfilling lives. I have seen self-centered people get exactly what they want, often at the expense and/or humiliation of others, and it doesn't seem to bother them at all. I know people who go through life only thinking "What's in it for me?" and would have driven on home that night without a thought or care for the person who owned the other car. It wouldn't have occurred to them to stop, even for a moment, or if it had, they would have justified not stopping in the blink of an eye and moved on. For them, the right thing to do, always, is look out for #1 and don't ever put yourself in a position where you could be blamed or have to take responsibility for something unpleasant. I hate to say it, but in that moment of writing down my name and number, I envied those people and their decision-making guidelines more than just a little.
But then I thought, what kind of world would we live in where everyone behaved like those people? Would there be charities to help out people in the midst of a hard time? Would there be communities to rally around others in the wake of a natural disaster like Hurricane Sandy a few weeks ago? Would there even be concepts like compromise, give-and-take, or "do unto others" in our society? It seems to me like while we are certainly taught when we're young about big things being right or wrong (killing, stealing, bullying), we're all born with a conscience to help us out in those situations that can have gray areas.
(And if someone is about to argue about how there are no gray areas when it comes to right and wrong, I would direct them to the news footage of the past few months leading up to our most recent Presidential election. There were sure a lot of people who were absolutely, positively, unequivocally certain that they were right about certain things, and that certain other people and issues were equally as fundamentally wrong.)
So, with all that we've been taught, with all that we've learned, and in the words of Jiminy Cricket, letting our conscience be our guide, how do we know in any given situation what is the right thing to do?
Answer?
We don't. Every situation is different, every person is different, and every person has had a different life experience. Everyone has different opinions on what is right and wrong, and everyone has reasons and justifications for the decisions they make and the actions they do based on them. But I only have control over one of those people.
Me.
I'm the one who looks at my face in the mirror every morning and gets to decide if I like what I see. I'm the one who has to be comfortable going to sleep every night with the choices I have made during the day. I'm the one who has to determine what is right or wrong for ME, in my life, regardless of what other people might say or opine, or do. And the truth is, it doesn't matter if other people are self-centered or selfish or don't care about others. Because they are the ones who have to look themselves in the mirror every day and answer to their conscience, which I have to believe is speaking to them, if ever so faintly.
So do I believe that I did the right thing? Yes. Am I bothered by the fact that I actually questioned that fundamental belief that I've had as long as I can remember? You bet. But it reminded me that no matter what anyone else says or does, I have to live by my own moral code, and that I also have the opportunity and responsibility to teach that code to my children. And if that means stopping in a horrible snowstorm to do something that is pretty much guaranteed to cause me aggravation, stress, and probably a pile of money, I have to do it anyway.
Why?
Because it's the right thing to do.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Citius, Altius, Fortius
I just watched the 2012 London Olympics Opening Ceremony and Parade of Nations. It was a thrilling experience as always (I am a huge Olympic fan) but this time as I watched the athletes enter the stadium I was struck by one particular thing:
How alike they all looked. No matter the country, no matter the dress, no matter the color of his or her skin, every single athlete was overwhelmed with joy to be there. Their excitement was palpable, even through a tv screen hours later and thousands of miles away. And not only were the emotions the same with each group, but so were the faces and bodies. The women looked like the girls I see at the library and band practice. The men looked like the guys I see at the gym and the dog park. If an athlete from Finland missed her entrance and came walking in with the team from Tajikistan, no one would have known the difference. A Syrian could have been amidst the Marshall Islands delegates and we'd never have been the wiser. And if any of the athletes from the entire world jumped in and walked with USA, they would have fit right in.
Even more amazing was to see athletes from Israel, Egypt, and Palestine sharing the same space. Iraq walking in directly behind Iran. North and South Korea putting aside their shared hatred because there's simply no place for it here. It almost seems like the Olympics are a pause button for the world. It's like everyone says, "Yes, we have our differences, but for two weeks we're going to put them aside and instead enjoy each other and view each other on a literally even playing field." Makes you wonder why we can't just do this all the time.
One more thing. We all hear things like, "We're more alike than we are different." Which can sound like a phrase from a didactic first grade lesson plan. But when you look at the Parade of Nations it is shockingly inescapable. People are people. We all have two eyes, we all have two arms and two legs, and we all breathe, speak, and move with the same mechanical parts. Those are obvious similarities. But here's what people tend to forget:
For every single person on the planet - when they get cut, they bleed. (and the blood is always the same color by the way)
No exceptions.
For every single person on the planet - when they see or hear something funny, they smile.
It's involuntary.
For every single person on the planet - when they experience heartbreaking loss or pain, they feel it deeply and are changed as a result.
It's part of what being human is.
We seem to forget that every single one of us was once a helpless baby who depended on other people for survival. We still depend on one another on a daily basis to help us survive, and while no one else is ultimately responsible for our own choices or how we feel about them, it is impossible to survive on this Earth completely and utterly alone.
So why do so many of us hate each other? Why do so many people expend a tremendous amount of energy vilifying and discouraging others? Why is it only during the Olympics and the occasional holiday season that that whole "good will toward men" concept seems to be apparent?
The Olympic motto "Citius, Altius, Fortius - Faster, Higher, Stronger" is supposed to help the athletes achieve their dreams of superior excellence in their sports and continually push themselves further in their training. What if we applied that motto to the way we look at the world?
Could we trust our fellow human beings faster - not assume that they are out to get us but realize that on the most basic, fundamental level, they feel the same ways we do?
Could we set our mindsets higher - look for the good in others, remembering our similarities before focusing on our differences?
Could we as a race be stronger- lifting each other up and supporting one another, despite prejudices we might have been taught that we now know are wrong?
Could we strive for compassion, acceptance, consideration, and benevolence toward each other? Could we train our minds as we train our muscles to move and think in different ways?
Because there's something else that's true for every single person on the planet.
Each one of us is going to die.
No exceptions.
Do we want to make our short time here on Earth filled with seeking out our differences and spreading disapproval and animosity around? Or can we go about our lives realizing the fact that everyone is trying their best to find happiness and fulfillment and sometimes need us to help them along?
Most of us will never vault over a 17 foot high bar using a pole for leverage. Most of us will never stick a dismount or stand on a medal platform. But we can take a lesson from the athletes and push ourselves to act faster, higher, and stronger in our own lives, in pursuing our own goals, and in the ways we treat each other.
We're all walkers in the Parade of Nations. Our flags may look different, but we're all so happy to be here.
How alike they all looked. No matter the country, no matter the dress, no matter the color of his or her skin, every single athlete was overwhelmed with joy to be there. Their excitement was palpable, even through a tv screen hours later and thousands of miles away. And not only were the emotions the same with each group, but so were the faces and bodies. The women looked like the girls I see at the library and band practice. The men looked like the guys I see at the gym and the dog park. If an athlete from Finland missed her entrance and came walking in with the team from Tajikistan, no one would have known the difference. A Syrian could have been amidst the Marshall Islands delegates and we'd never have been the wiser. And if any of the athletes from the entire world jumped in and walked with USA, they would have fit right in.
Even more amazing was to see athletes from Israel, Egypt, and Palestine sharing the same space. Iraq walking in directly behind Iran. North and South Korea putting aside their shared hatred because there's simply no place for it here. It almost seems like the Olympics are a pause button for the world. It's like everyone says, "Yes, we have our differences, but for two weeks we're going to put them aside and instead enjoy each other and view each other on a literally even playing field." Makes you wonder why we can't just do this all the time.
One more thing. We all hear things like, "We're more alike than we are different." Which can sound like a phrase from a didactic first grade lesson plan. But when you look at the Parade of Nations it is shockingly inescapable. People are people. We all have two eyes, we all have two arms and two legs, and we all breathe, speak, and move with the same mechanical parts. Those are obvious similarities. But here's what people tend to forget:
For every single person on the planet - when they get cut, they bleed. (and the blood is always the same color by the way)
No exceptions.
For every single person on the planet - when they see or hear something funny, they smile.
It's involuntary.
For every single person on the planet - when they experience heartbreaking loss or pain, they feel it deeply and are changed as a result.
It's part of what being human is.
We seem to forget that every single one of us was once a helpless baby who depended on other people for survival. We still depend on one another on a daily basis to help us survive, and while no one else is ultimately responsible for our own choices or how we feel about them, it is impossible to survive on this Earth completely and utterly alone.
So why do so many of us hate each other? Why do so many people expend a tremendous amount of energy vilifying and discouraging others? Why is it only during the Olympics and the occasional holiday season that that whole "good will toward men" concept seems to be apparent?
The Olympic motto "Citius, Altius, Fortius - Faster, Higher, Stronger" is supposed to help the athletes achieve their dreams of superior excellence in their sports and continually push themselves further in their training. What if we applied that motto to the way we look at the world?
Could we trust our fellow human beings faster - not assume that they are out to get us but realize that on the most basic, fundamental level, they feel the same ways we do?
Could we set our mindsets higher - look for the good in others, remembering our similarities before focusing on our differences?
Could we as a race be stronger- lifting each other up and supporting one another, despite prejudices we might have been taught that we now know are wrong?
Could we strive for compassion, acceptance, consideration, and benevolence toward each other? Could we train our minds as we train our muscles to move and think in different ways?
Because there's something else that's true for every single person on the planet.
Each one of us is going to die.
No exceptions.
Do we want to make our short time here on Earth filled with seeking out our differences and spreading disapproval and animosity around? Or can we go about our lives realizing the fact that everyone is trying their best to find happiness and fulfillment and sometimes need us to help them along?
Most of us will never vault over a 17 foot high bar using a pole for leverage. Most of us will never stick a dismount or stand on a medal platform. But we can take a lesson from the athletes and push ourselves to act faster, higher, and stronger in our own lives, in pursuing our own goals, and in the ways we treat each other.
We're all walkers in the Parade of Nations. Our flags may look different, but we're all so happy to be here.
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