courage

My Daughter

My oldest daughter graduated from college over the weekend.

Such milestones prompt reflection for me. I couldn’t help but relive her birth, the delight I felt in her infancy, the mental and emotional turbulence of seeing her navigate her young life, cheering (and sometimes cringing) as she faced fears and tackled new challenges with varying degrees of success, balancing support for her with coaching and even discipline. I was better at the coaching and discipline, I’m afraid.

With some chagrin I admit that she emulated my study habits in her early academic career, procrastinating on homework and projects until she absolutely had to begin. As much as she was afraid of engaging with her work – afraid she wouldn’t measure up, I suspect – she couldn’t let her teachers down by failing to turn in something. I saw a lot of myself in her then: awareness of her talents, but unsure if they would really translate to excellence, and very much afraid to find out.

Some of my favorite memories of time with her were very stressful. She demands much energy at the best of times, but when she had a school project due, well, anxiety ran very high. Still, once we had a plan, we worked well together. She’s always been able to focus on the task at hand once she settles on it.

CLB Graduation Steps 4 Blog Our work together started with her fourth-grade California history project. We made a model of a gold-rush settlement called Squabbletown mostly out of popsicle sticks. It took many steps – we had to make the ground, paint it, add foliage, build and assemble the buildings – all of which we crammed into the weekend before it was due. Naturally.

She started off the same in middle school. Her project then was to build a model of an Egyptian sarcophagus. Again, multiple steps of designing the coffin, finding materials, painting, assembling, and writing a narrative. All of which we crammed into the weekend before it was due. Same with a model of the Parthenon.

And then she parted ways with my own middle-school self (that extended through my college graduation, and, to be honest, beyond). She found that the stress of delaying her projects affected her much worse than the thought that she might not deliver an acceptable product.

In seventh grade she started planning her projects, finishing them well before their due dates and enhancing her happiness greatly. She stopped needing my help. I had been the training wheels for her academic bicycle ride, and, as is the fate of parents throughout time, I was sidelined to her developing competence. And as much as I hoped for that transition, as much as I ache to see her blossom into all of her abilities, I miss not the uncertain and underconfident little girl (though I loved that little girl fiercely) but rather the tangible value I provided that she needed then and doesn’t need now. I have to admit that I’m a bit adrift, searching for the things that she needs from me now. The challenge is no longer hers, but mine, and I’ve not built all the habits or mastered the skills that will tell me what those are. But I do strive, because I believe that she needs me, even if I don’t know exactly how.

Watching her become not just more capable but also more aware of her talents and more sure of her efforts has been as gratifying and as satisfying as anything I’ve ever done myself. Seeing her pride in her success, watching her with the friends who adore her, hearing the professors who praise her, it’s all so affirming. Of what she’s done to this point, but also of the efforts of her mother and me. Accepting her hard-won diploma (magna cum laude, no less – please forgive me) was a milestone for her.

And for me. And I hope there are many more milestones ahead.

Faith

I’m a man of faith.

But only in that I believe that we must all believe in something. If there is an objective truth – and there may not be – I don’t know that any of us can see it. But either way, we need to anchor ourselves to a set of beliefs to guide our actions.

Do I believe in God?

Yes, but I don’t give it much energy. My God is generally benevolent, but my God doesn’t intervene in my life. I believe in my free will, I believe I choose my actions, and no amount of pleading for divine intervention will alter my life’s course. I do see serendipity, and I will acknowledge my angels when something goes surprisingly well, but I believe I’m responsible for what happens to me.

My set of beliefs align with most religious tenets. I think that’s because people through the years, including those religious leaders, have recognized that generosity, kindness, humility, forgiveness, community are the healthiest and most constructive paths to happiness and harmony. I identify with Christianity, but I think that’s more of a cultural decision than an acknowledgement of Christianity’s superiority to other faiths. If I’d been raised in China, I would probably identify with Buddhism or if I’d grown up in Thailand I’d be Muslim. While I won’t say religions are the same, they do seem to generally prescribe the same types of behaviors for their followers.

My beliefs are my truth. I fully believe them to be the best way for people to behave, and I will follow them or hold myself accountable when I fail to do so.

My beliefs are my truth. Mine. Not necessarily yours. They are my guide to my personal behavior, and though I believe them to be the best way for you to behave too, I don’t believe I can impose them on you. Because there’s nothing objective that says my beliefs are superior to yours. I could be doing you a tremendous disservice by insisting you adopt my beliefs, and I might be doing myself an equal disservice by not giving more consideration to your beliefs.

Faith must guide our personal choices, but when we come together in community with others, we need a more objective approach to govern our interactions. The genius of the founders of the American democracy is that they saw that no person had the answer to existential questions, no person’s faith was superior to any other’s faith, and so they wrote a Constitution to guide our communal interactions that expressly excluded faith – I can practice my beliefs, you can practice yours, but we cannot impose them on each other. Genius, that.

And very much in keeping with my beliefs. Faith is personal. But secular agreements like the Constitution are what governs us communally. And any leader who would impose faith on others is taking us away from this standard that has worked since our founding.

Change

Change is in the air. It’s always in the air. Change is omnipresent.

But there are two kinds of change: the change that happens to us, and the change we make happen.

It’s said we resent the change that happens to us. Lack of control, I guess. I see it differently.

An amazing world has unfolded in front of us with no effort on our part: smartphones that keep us continually connected with the people we care about, cars that safely and comfortably take us where we want to go, access to convenient flights all around the world, medicines that dramatically improve our quality of life in the face of illnesses both acute and chronic, hundreds of channels of entertainment that come from everywhere on the globe. We don’t like some aspects of our lives when they change: the new traffic light that slows my commute by a couple minutes a day, the neighbor who painted his house an unflattering color, the new boss, the new PTA president, the new layout at the grocery store – we complain all about these little changes while we take the newest advances that actually change the way we live as a birthright.

It’s the other change that interests me at the moment though. It’s daunting to try to make change in the world. The investment of time, energy and emotion is enormous, and the outcome is uncertain. And in our world, where we’ve been accustomed to beneficial change just happening, having to face situations that cause us great discomfort – and I’m thinking specifically about the current political situation in the United States, where a government with the minority of votes controls both the legislative and executive branches – is a big-time gut check. If you’re not happy with the current situation, what are you willing to invest to try to change it?

There are seminal events that happen, events that fire the imagination or awake the passions of multitudes of people. But those don’t really create any change. They are the flashpoints that start the processes that lead to change, but to actually change the world we must find focus, determination, and dedication. We need deliberate, sustained action, day after day after day after day.

Do we have the requisite resolve in us? Time, as always, will tell.

What is courage? And, more importantly, can I be brave?

Perhaps it’s my current preoccupation with death, or perhaps it’s the confrontations with my government and other citizens that seem so inevitable as I write these words, but courage has been on my mind a lot recently. And wondering how I will respond in situations when it is required.

I don’t think I’m very brave. I have jumped off a platform with a bungy cord attached to me. I have challenged myself with physical feats of endurance that haven’t been comfortable. I contemplate tattoos and career changes and vegan diets without pause, and I will try new things without reserve (to be fair, only after due deliberation however!).

But that doesn’t feel like courage to me.

In each of those situations I believe I understand the risks and that a disastrous outcome is so unlikely that I don’t need to feed it any emotional energy. I am not afraid, so I don’t need courage. Commitment, resolve, focus, discipline, adaptability – all those, yes. But not courage.

So what does take courage?

I believe in positive. I believe in win-win. I believe in encouraging others, and that we can do our best when we strive for a result by using our strengths rather than avoid an outcome by mitigating our shortcomings. Or maybe I tell myself this because I really hate hurting people. Even merely disappointing others unsettles me, whether or not it’s necessary. I’m not comfortable imposing myself on people either. For me, those circumstances take courage, courage that is often found wanting.

So how will I respond when I am called to do something both important and uncomfortable? Will I rise to the occasion? Alas, I fear the data to this point isn’t very promising.

Death

I am 56 years old. I am going to die.

I’m not sick. In fact, I’m active and healthy. I’m not a reckless driver. I haven’t had a premonition of my demise. I don’t really know why it’s been on my mind, but my death has been a mental presence for more than a year.

I read Being Mortal about 18 months ago. I read When Breath Becomes Air about 2 months ago. Were the thoughts there, or did the reading put them there? I have no idea.

Yet I know I am going to die. And so I’ve been thinking about what I can do before then. What I want to do. Whether or not I have the requisite courage to try bold ideas I have, or whether I will settle for meeker paths.

I am smart. Maybe even very smart. I really want to help people be happier, which I think means being healthier. I am curious, and I’m observant. I see what people are, and I don’t begrudge them what they are not. I see things clearly that many other people don’t see at all.

But I’m reluctant to impose, and I think asking anything of anyone is an imposition. I am shy unless I know you. And writing the previous paragraph makes me feel like a self-impressed jerk. Can I do anything but meek?

My questions aren’t about value: I feel conscientious enough that whatever I do I do well enough – or even better than that. I am competent in many things. But I care about relatively few things. So my questions are about how true I can be to my own values. My current skills – and my confidence – don’t align with my ambitions. I tell my children to be brave, to pursue their ambitions, that they will develop the knowledge, skills and experiences that will lead to success in their goals. But I’m 56. With obligations. Do I have time? Do I have energy?

I believe it’s never too late for someone to do something new. Do I believe it’s never too late for me?