If you examined every human on the planet, the average number of arms is less than two.
Mathematical averages don’t always convey what’s typical.
And sometimes, knowing the average isn’t even helpful.
Here’s something to do.
Choose something in nature (or from nature) and look at it carefully.
Really carefully.
All of its qualities. All of its details. From every possible angle.
For five minutes. Five full minutes.
Uninterrupted.
Don’t worry. You attend to screens and pages for hours; you won’t miss these five minutes.
But it will feel like a long time.
Because many of us don’t often pause to look — to really look. To establish visual intimacy with an object. To know its physical existence in this world. To appreciate it more fully.
But we could.
Because looking is a skill worthy of continuous development.
One of the principles of juggling is catching what you toss. More strategically, tossing in such a way that you can easily catch what you’ve thrown.
This ends up being a lot like life. We can juggle fluidly, or we can make it challenging.
It’s distinct from now many items we’re juggling at one time. Rather, it’s how we set ourselves up for what we’ll ultimately be resolving.
Said another way: we’re often the architects of our own challenges. Some of our designs are elegant, and others are a mess of our own making.
With any periodic, ongoing activity, we have choices: stop, continue, or adjust.
Habits, streaks, commitments … aside from the most legally binding obligations, we have options. Assuming we’re not incarcerated or otherwise held hostage, we get to choose whether to continue.
This does not have to be a daily debate. For instance, we can begin a daily meditation practice and we don’t have to second-guess the choice each morning. Instead, we can intentionally maintain the habit — even slipping into autopilot regarding its continuation.
But every activity (healthy or otherwise) merits occasional review. The question, “Is this serving me well?” is an excellent starting point. When the answer is anything but yes, it’s a good time to carefully and thoughtfully consider our options.
It’s tempting to put a lot of effort into planning extraordinary experiences.
But so much of the good life is found through ordinary experiences spent with extraordinary people.
How you handle the feedback can have a more lasting effect than the act that earned its response.
“Do you want to go for a walk???”
This phrase — along with me getting my shoes — elevates our dog’s excitement to a near ten. It’s about same effect as using the word, “treat.”
Not that we’re dogs, but certainly, we should organize our lives such that we can have this kind of joyous anticipation. Regularly.
We often work intentionally to see things clearly. Clarity feels virtuous in this way.
It also suggests singularity.
But what happens when we work instead to see things differently? To intentionally unsettle our point of view? Not just to be open, but to have an active curiosity about diverse perspectives. To exercise seeing differently in the same way we’d develop a skill.
It’s not forgetting our initial perspective. Rather, it’s about exploring other angles. Like investigating the underside of a table. Or clearing a room entirely to see it plainly for the first time in years.
* * *
When we change how we see, the world changes indeed.
Like a slow-working marinade, we can begin to take on the characteristics of our surroundings.
But there is another possibility.
We can cultivate from within. We ourselves can be the agent of change.
After a heavy storm, many light branches and sticks littered our yard and street. My wife and I gave our youngest son an opportunity: ten cents per stick. A simple chore, a little lesson in labor and earning.
Turns out, the parents were the ones who were going to be learning.
After collecting what he determined to be $20 worth of sticks, we realized there were some details that should have been clarified from the start:
You can’t break sticks in half to double their value.
You can’t collect sticks from other people’s yards.
You can’t collect sticks from down the street.
We’re not considering 2-inch twigs “sticks”. (Though we resolved that five twigs shorter than 6-inches would be valued as one full stick.)
The final payment hasn’t been made; the various parties and representatives are still in negotiations.
Our lesson in employment turned out to be a lesson in contracts, terms, and conditions.
With a ten-year-old.
Details matter.
When ideas are scarce, it’s often not a problem of source; it’s a problem of flow.
That is, we sometimes filter ideas before they even draw breath. We’re so stringent, so quick to judge, so ready to delete — that the air remains void.
Like our generative minds are quieted with each nascent offering.
The practice then, is to relax and release. To allow. To open the conduits.
Some of the better ideas become evident when we allow even the weaker ideas a bit of space.
The introduction to Parker J. Palmer’s 25th anniversary edition of Let your Life Speak includes this salient passage:
“I’ve learned more from my missteps and defeats than from my successes. When I succeed, I do little more than congratulate myself. When I fail, I slow down and think, trying to learn what I can about myself and the world in hope of not making that kind of mistake again.”
It resonated.
Any one of us can work to avoid repeating mistakes. The wise choose to do so through the lens of humility, curiosity, and discovery.
A stumble near the finish can be devastating — not just because the possibility of victory evaporates, but because our perspective shifts. One trip-up and we become failure-focused. Gone from our mind are the early wins, the hard-won triumphs, the whole history of our achievements. A stumble can leave us fully focused on loss and defeat.
Honor the feelings that come from disappointment. But then recall the journey. Celebrate its arc. Remember the highlights.
Don’t dismiss the entire day just because you didn’t get the sunset you wanted.
Just because it runs like clockwork doesn’t mean you don’t have to wind the clock.
Why isn’t the autopilot feature working properly?
It could be that the pilot is still in his pajamas, eating breakfast.
Because there are times when it’s too early to ask the robots to take over.
Because the easy button is a shortcut that doesn’t always deliver satisfactory results.
Because even the best tools don’t necessarily eliminate the need for our participation.
* * *
Automation can be a valuable option; it’s not typically step one.
Experts say that in an emergency situation, when you need someone to call 9-1-1, there’s a better way than shouting, “Somebody call 9-1-1!” (Though this is instinctually the thing to say because it’s exactly what you need.)
Instead, the advice is to identify someone specifically, and to address them directly: “[You:] I need you to call 9-1-1.”
See the shift?
When we need “someone” to do something, no one takes ownership of the task. “‘Someone’ could be anyone, not necessarily me.” Said another way: on these occasions, don’t rely on people to self-select.
There are many non-emergency situations where we might borrow from this model.
Instead of, “We need a volunteer,” it’s, “Alex, are you able to help?”
Instead of, “Can someone email the customer?” it’s, “Morgan, can you please email the customer?”
Instead of, “I need help,” it’s “Can you please help me?”
There are times when giving others the opportunity to rise to the occasion on their own is generous.
It can also be useful to know we can bypass this dance with a more direct route when it’s appropriate.
Praise those who shine, but don’t forget to give credit to those who were instrumental in making it possible. Those who cultivated the soil. Those who set the stage. Those who created the opportunities.
The coaches, the mentors, the guides.
The flowers do the work of blooming, and we are awed. Moved. Inspired.
But remember, too, the quiet gardeners.
“Who’s it for? What’s it for?”
These are two of the most important questions we can ask when planning and facilitating. And when you’re familiar with these questions, you’ll find yourself using them as a point of reference — a lens of evaluation.
So often, we fall into the trap of doing things like they’ve been done before. Of following the perceived protocol. Of getting all the way to the end without pausing to ask, “Why are we doing this?” and “What’s the best way to accomplish our goal?”
Operating at the level of “repeat” or “whatever people usually do” is much easier — and it might be safer — but we’re likely missing some remarkable opportunities to do things even better.
In various ball sports, there’s a practice drill called “knock out.” You miss the ball or bobble it and you’re out. Make a bad pass, you’re out. Meanwhile, everyone else continues to play.
There’s competition and a winner, but there’s also an irony: the players who seemingly need more reps and improved skills are the players who tend to get knocked out.
The winners keep playing and the players keep getting better.
We’ll lose from time to time, that’s for sure. The thing to do is to get back in the game so you can keep playing and keep getting better.
In Michelangelo’s fresco, The Creation of Adam, we see God — with a whirlwind of energy and surrounding figures — stretching out his arm, reaching with an index finger to invigorate Adam with the spark of life.
Adam, reclined, barely lifts his own index finger in response.
Sometimes the world teems with opportunity, possibility, and support — energy beyond measure — and in our limited humanness, we can only offer a weak reply.
Thankfully, creation is patient, and will partner with us regardless.
H/T Fr. Mike Schmitz