The strangest thing happened today.
We were interviewing an applicant for our open position of staffing coordinator when I asked why he wanted to work at IES, and he said, "well, I've been reading your blog and…"
Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute. Darryl and Jordan made their wise cracks, making fun of the poetry, the narcissism, and the seventeen followers (I love each of you, as if you were my own little ducklings). But then I got thinking to myself about John Wooden, and how he said that it took him 14 years at UCLA to win a championship, but that he knew he was a success long before that. For John Wooden, success meant achieving all that he could in each present day, and if he did that, no matter the outcome or his position in life, he told himself with unshakable confidence that he was a success. And so I thought maybe I should do the same; whether there's 17 people reading the blog (I secretly think there's more) or 17 million, what matters is each present moment. And since right now I think my readership is at its highest peak (in the 17-20 range), I think I should tell you the greatest things that I can, and the greatest things I can tell you are things that have been told to me:
The single greatest thing that anybody has ever told me is when one of my mentors asked me, rhetorically, in reference to IES, "Derek, is it possible you'll make mistakes? No, it's certain." Oh my God, yes, God in heaven above, that took a greater load off my chest than has ever been taken. I made a deep sigh of relief even as I wrote that sentence, and again as I'm rereading it. I'm just not sure that there's anything nicer you can do for yourself than to allow your heart to try the things it begs you to try even if it means an occasional, okay, frequent, okay, nearly every day mistake. Learning allows you to move as close to perfection as we humans can actually get. Perfectionists, on the other hand, want to be God. They can't get out of their seat without loosing their perfection. They live fearful lives strapped to electric chairs just waiting for somebody to pull the switch, or they are exactly like Natalie Portman (which is a good thing) in the Black Swan (which is very, very bad).
Another mentor told me over breakfast at IHOP that when you take a risk it's like crossing a river to a beachhead, and when you get to that beachhead you can see all the things that you couldn't see from the other side. The trouble of course is the courage to cross, and I know that to be true. If you want to read a fantastically fascinating book, try Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. He's a psychologist that won the Nobel Peace Prize for economics, and his basic premise is that we think we are rational when in fact we make emotionally based decisions nearly all of the time. An example is that if you were to flip a coin and tell somebody that if it's heads you will give them $75 but if it's tails they must give you $50, the rational person would take that bet all day because over time they will make money. Unfortunately most people don't. Because people tend to be more motivated by the pain of potential loss than the pain of missing out on potential gain. Being scared of losing what you have is eerily close to being a perfectionist, in which case see above.
A final mentor told me that the Buddhists say the greatest gift you can give somebody is the gift of honesty. For better or worse, I believe that's true. That if I can just bear my soul, that the soul in each of you will recognize a friend, and together we can move forward. That if I can just have the courage to admit my flaws, weaknesses, and ugly spots, that whether or not you can admit yours too you'll feel better about both of us. I don't think success requires anything more than being honest. If your a painter, paint your little heart out, if your a dancer, dance with a ribbon, whatever you do, do it honestly, and I think other souls will recognize the honesty in your soul and appreciate it. I just don't think it's any harder than that.
The greatest thing is life to me is that every good story has conflict, and the best stories happen only when it seems they are almost nearly over. I love how in life things can change from the deepest sorrow to the greatest joy in seconds. It doesn't matter if it's when Rocky finally beats that Russian's a** in Rocky IV or when the disciples finally catch enough fish in their nets to sink the boat; or when Jadaveon Clowney nearly rips the head off a Michigan Wolverine and picks up the football with his forearm. It's really all the same. Just when the day seemed like it was over it wasn't. Somebody refused to give up. The worse things get the better the story. And that's why I believe in Christ. I can only believe in something that addresses death, which seems like it's going to be a real downer, and says, "wait, no, there's a fumble and Jadaveon Clowney has the ball!" This fits with my heart, with the way I see the world going around. It resonates with my soul.
Do I think it's possible that Jadaveon Clowney and Jesus have a lot in common? You better believe I do. (This would make a great T-shirt by the way.)
Knowing that--no matter the conflict--we will overcome, that's what builds our faith, making us in words of the prophet Jeremiah "like trees planted along a riverbank" that "are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit." The fact that I live in a world where underdogs win on a daily basis, where things consistently happen that shouldn't, where things become possible only because of the people that won't stop believing in them, is enough. In my most satisfied moments I can be grateful just to be able to breathe the same air these people breathe and live in the same world they live in. What else is there; what else could be better? And how can I become like one of them?
Well, I don’t know the answers, but I feel like making mistakes, crossing the river to beachheads, and being honest are at least some of them.
Goodnight.
