Time to Drop the F-Bomb
Freak. Fudge. Freaking. Farfignugen. Feck. Freaking….
Socially conservative people, not in the political sense, find plenty of ways around saying the real thing, instead substituting made-up words and sound-alike words to communicate what’s really going on in their hearts.
A recent study in the UK showed that cursing is an emotional language that helps to alleviate the internal suffering or pain of a given situation. While I tend to agree with this study, and have written before about language and wisdom, I think we need to expand our understanding of what is one of, if not the most emotionally charged word in the dictionary: Failure.
Failure is the real F-Bomb.
No other word has spawned online communities dedicated to laughing at the plight of ourselves and others. No other word is the basis for which the anti-motivational series of posters and other memorabilia thrives. No other word is more present at the core of the great American dream. We wake up every day with a sense if impending failure, be it in our homes, at work, on our morning commute, at the golf course, or in church.
Perhaps the most notorious quote about failure was portrayed in the Apollo 13 movie when the flight director (Gene Kranz) in the Houston command center exclaimed, “Failure is not an option.” This message came at a pivotal moment about the survival of the 3 astronauts in the doomed Apollo 13 space craft. If you remember the movie, you’ll recall the boon of emotional energy that was created on screen, and in the viewers. Such a simple charge with overwhelmingly complex implications.
Though you and I might not be facing death in our daily lives as the astronauts were, we are facing something much worse: Being alive without a mission, going through each day just hoping to make it to the next, and the fear that if we do fail we will be scorned by our peers and perhaps even those closest to us. Make not mistake, failure is an emotional word; and it’s a bomb that left unaddressed will slowly eat away at your hope, dreams, and very sense of what you’re here on earth for.
It’s time to drop the F Bomb and get it out from festering inside and oozing apathy, self-pity, and complacency. As William Wallace said in the movie Braveheart; “every man dies, but not every man really lives.”
This is not a motivational piece intended to rah-rah you into another fast start towards that dream you’re avoiding, in fact it’s quite the opposite. Fast starts often lead to painful finishes. I remember running a mile race in 5th grade, and for the first 2/3 of the race I was smoking the hundred or so boys racing with me. I ran so hard and so fast that my lead vanished over the last 2-300 yards because I’d spent all my energy at the beginning. All of us will fail if we try to accomplish our dreams in one giant step or action. It’s a lifetime process that requires you taking steps today that will keep you able to make another step tomorrow.
Failure is an option, but it’s only failure if you do nothing or half-heartedly. Failure is actually our friend. Someone once told me that he viewed failure as a devilish looking creature that needed to hidden and kept silent. Such a wonderful description of what lives inside all of us. It’s hard to think about befriending something that looks like this picture. Who wants to invite this kind of creature to be seen?
The antidote to failure is to fail. Because inherent in failing is that we risk something. Without risk, we will not fail. As the mountain biking community says, “no falls, no balls.”
If you wish to be a writer, write. ~ Epictetus
For many years, I’ve written as a hobby. This generally means that I’d write when I was inspired, and only when I was inspired. One problem with this mentality is that I’ve missed out on many opportunities in the past because I didn’t know exactly what or how I wanted to say something. So instead of sitting down with a pen and paper (or usually a computer), I’d work on what I’d want to say in my head hoping to get it just right. Rarely did that produce something on paper. I wanted it to be perfect, or at the very least “good enough” that it’d garner rave reviews or feedback. The big lesson here is perfectionism will kill an artist, a writer.
Sometimes, the simplest solutions are the most difficult to see and take. In the case of writing, it doesn’t take hours of time or space to hammer out a few words. But that’s what I was trying to attain. This reminds me of what my dad used to say to me as a kid when I’d be in charge of unloading the dishes from the dishwasher. I’d try to do it as quickly as possible and in as few trips to the cabinets as possible. This led to me carrying 10-15 dishes precariously stacked on top of one another. His admonition to me: Don’t be lazy. Take your time, and do it without breaking things.
Learning from that over the years has allowed me to come up with hundreds of 10-20 word thoughts that one day might turn into a fuller, more meaningful article or blog post. I don’t do this every day, but I write something on most days. Once I open up the valve of content, I’m amazed at what else shows up. Just in the process of writing these 400+ words, I’ve thought of 2 other topics that I want to write about. My next step: Write about them.
Creating begets creating. This is the application for everyone. There is usually something that has been named in the form of a wish, but practical steps haven’t been taken to make that wish a reality.
“I want to start my own business”
“I want to start a family, have kids”
“I want to create art, paint, etc”
“I want to read more”
“I want to ________”
All of these wants are big ideas, and can be overwhelming to know where to start. The first step is likely the one that you’re avoiding, which is also the most difficult step. The longer you wait to take that step, the more overwhelming and difficult it becomes.
Here are a few books that are great at exploring more some of what I’ve introduced here:
Eat That Frog!: 21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time
Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles
48 Days to the Work You Love: Preparing for the New Normal
I Can Only Speak for Me
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better. – Anne Lamott
So… it’s pretty easy to talk about other people. To see their faults, cracks, damages, and also their giftings, goodness, and success in life. It’s much harder to see our own. (Which is why I think everyone ought to get married and/or have kids. Marriage and Parenting makes it really difficult to ignore the reflection of yourself. But that’s another topic for another day.)
It’s hard to talk and write about the stories you have that have been influenced by others without giving too much credit to the other person. What has happened to you, has happened to you. And you’re the only one who can tell the story of what has happened to you.
You can’t speak for the other person, about their motives or assumptions. It’s not your job to protect others from the impact they or someone else has had on you. Your only responsibility is to speak about your experience.
Not theirs. Yours.
“How will you respond to what’s happened?” is really the only question that matters. Because the last thing you want to do, is to respond like this:
New Writing Venture
It’s been a couple of weeks since I last posted here, and I wanted to give a link to a new writing venture that I’ve undertaken. I’ll still be posting here, but I will be focusing my writing on relationships at Start Marriage Right. Thanks for stopping by.
Run To, Not From
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. – Plato
We’d just spent 14 of the past 15 waking hours at the baseball fields. The first two games rained out twice due to heavy storms of lightning and rain the previous evening. Instead of playing games over two days, we had one day to play at least 3 games. A lot to ask for of a group of 9 year olds.
Nine and a half hours at the baseball fields on Sunday, and we didn’t sniff victory for one inning. I was deflated. So was my son.
As soon as we arrived home, he began to show his anger. He gave a little to his 4-year old brother. A little to his mom, and a little to me. His final blow up happened when after asking for a friend to come over (it was 5:15 on Sunday afternoon), we told him “no.”
He ran to his room, slammed his door and buried himself under the covers.
I wrestled with what to do. Do I go after him, chastising him for slamming his door and waking up his 4-month old brother? Do I leave him be, and wait till he returns to the land of the living? Or do I do something different?
Wisdom, as I’ve heard it described, is a historical perspective. Thankfully, I chose something different.
I went to him in his room, and told him I was really sorry that he couldn’t have a friend come over. I also told him that I was sad that we’d spent the past 10 hours at the baseball fields and that he only got to bat 3 times, and make a play on 2 balls in the outfield. I told him that I really wish things were different.
I also asked that he not slam his door so as to not wake his sleeping brother. He agreed and buried himself under the covers again. I let him be.
Ten to 15 minutes later, a different child emerged from the shadows. Something had changed for him. He was cheerful, bright, and kind. His anger no longer oozed from his pores, and he smiled as he invited his younger brother to play basketball outside.
I smiled, too. And then it hit me: He just needed to be heard.
My kids, you, me, everyone: We all need to be noticed, seen, and heard. He had just fought a great battle this weekend, and lost. No doubt he was sad, and angry that things didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to. And he did what we humans naturally do when we feel: we hide.
He hid under his covers.
A question for you: What do you hide under/behind?
A challenge for you: When you see hiding: Run to, not from (or against).
Seeing the Real You
I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I,
and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.
If not, it can’t be helped.~Fritz Perls
It’s human nature to care what others think of us, but this nature can get us into trouble. If you care what others think, more than you think you ought to, then it’s a good chance you don’t know you. When we come to know ourselves, we come realize that we have flaws, dings, dents, and a beauty that is only possible because of those human things. Joseph Campbell says that we don’t love others because they are perfect, we love others because they are deeply flawed. Without flaws, there is nothing to love (See Good Will Hunting).
We care what others think because it’s easy. It’s easy to ask someone else to define you. To judge you. To tell you who or what you are (and in most cases, they will tell you what you are, not who you are). We want easy, because hard is painful. Hard is just that, hard. And not many of us like hard.
So, the warning flag that you’re not engaged with your soul, your true self, is that you care what others think. If that flag is flying, recognize it. Take it down, and find out who you are. Carry and write in a journal. Read a book. Sit outside in nature, and meditate on what you see. Consider what excites you, what scares you, and what you want out of life. What do you dream?
You’ll get down to some gritty and hard places if you stop wondering about others and turn inward. That journey will be a lot longer and harder than what people think. But frankly, people don’t think about you nearly as much as you’d like. And the ones that really care about you, those are the ones who don’t just think about you, they do something about it. Because at the end of the day, it’s all about what you see in yourself.
Stop trying to be normal. You’re not.
There is no great genius without some touch of madness.
~ Seneca
The more normal you try to be (or the more like others you try to parrot) the less of you we will see. The move away from genius leads to people wanting to be normal, to not have to risk their necks with some dream, idea, or stroke of genius.
Normal is depressing. Normal is just plain vanilla, no toppings. Normal is the path of no resistance. Not least resistance, no resistance. Normal is normal, and more and more people are looking for the supposed feel-good nature of being normal. Let others define what normal is, then jump on the bandwagon to feel accepted, part of the team. But you’re not accepted or connected. You’re a drone that parrots what you think others want to hear, what you think others value as popular or normal.
The problem is, normal doesn’t feel good for long. It’s cheap. Like plastic forks. Good for the occasional use, but rely on it for too long and it’ll break. It’ll let you down. And then you’ll try another version of normal. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Trying to be normal is really about a misguided search for meaning. For purpose. For life.
Normal is death. It’s death to the soul. To the creative part of you that only you know, that only you see, and that only you choose to hide or show. Trying to be normal is self-rejection. It’s death.
It’s crazy to enter into and commit oneself to another person for life… It’s even crazier to become parents. Yet we put aside stats, conventional wisdom, and follow our hearts into some of the scariest, most dangerous, and land-mine-filled area called marriage. Over 50% of marriages fail today. Yet people still get married. Why? Because they’re in love. Because their heart believes that they cannot go on without the other person. That, my friends, is madness. Ignoring logic and going with you’re heart is madness.
And it’s genius. Pure creative genius. Picasso wasn’t a genius because of what he painted, he was a genius for when and how he painted.
The same is true for you. You’re not a genius for what idea you come up with, or what decision you make. You’re a genius for taking the risk to fulfill your dream. In putting your neck on the line and risk being called a fool. And trust me, those who will call you a fool are envious, because they’re normal and you’re not.
Parenting kids, Not controlling them
I was talking with a dear friend of mine this morning about some conversations I’ve been having with my 9 year old son. As the oldest, my son exhibits many typical first-born traits. He’s the rule follower, mini-parent to his siblings, plays life conservatively, and generally good kid. He’s a great kid, and has an incredible head on his shoulders. Ever since his sister, who is 18 months younger, began crawling, he has had a hard time getting along with her. Because of an event between the two of them at school last week, I was asking my friend Jeff this morning about some help in how to deal with the sibling rivalry, but mainly with my son.
His advice: Don’t under parent and over control.
Brilliant.
In that one sentence, he captured and summed up the tension that all parents face. How do I parent my kids, but not control them? Being an over controlling parent is quite easy, though exhausting. We likely spend more energy and effort keeping our kids from life than we would if we responded to and with them about life and our experiences.
Parenting is the essence of training a child in how to relate to the world around them. There are hundreds of books to help you along this journey, but the most important piece that a book can never teach you is how to engage your child in who they are. When we control our kids, we ask them to be someone that they are not. It’s scarier to be in relationships with others, our kids included, where we are not in control. Control will crush a relationship, and your child’s spirit. You will do more harm than good by ushering them down the path of life that you want for them.
Practically, parenting without control allows the kids the freedom to express themselves in a manner that is truthful. As with any part of life, there are some right ways to do things, and some wrong. As a parent, it’s my job to teach my kids the way that best expresses our value as a home.
If you want to tell me that you hate me, that’s fine. I’ll just need you to write a two page essay explaining why it is that you feel this way.
If you growl at me, roll your eyes, or brush by me in an aggressive manner, that’s fine too. I’ll just ask you to come back to the room and tell me what you’re feeling that caused you to do what you did. In our house, when you roll your eyes at someone you’re required to do a complete eye roll. None of this half-way done eye rolling. All the way around in a complete circle.
Obviously this is a hard line to walk. And, this line looks vastly different for each of my kids. I have to adjust my approach with each of them, because one parenting style does not fit all.
The likely result of an over controlled kid? Someone who lacks a sense of self with an overall fear based approach to life. If you want your kid to be well adjusted later in life, it’s going to take some risk on your part.
Because let’s face it. It’s risky to let go of control. It’s scary because we don’t know what will happen to them or to us. Parenting is not a science, it’s an art. And art is messy.
Some thoughts to end the week
Answering the why questions in life will rarely be satisfying. The awareness you’ll gain will be invaluable if you choose to use it.
We humans judge actions, not intent.
Hiding will prevent relationships from developing intimacy. You cannot have intimacy and hide at the same time.
“Don’t put your trust in walls, ‘Cause walls will only crush you when they fall.”
I can’t change the way you feel, nor can you change the way I feel. We can work together to learn where and how we feel what we do, and then learn to walk with care and love around those soft and tender spots in life. You cannot carry all of my pain, so don’t try and make life pain free for me or you. It doesn’t work.
Ending well is really difficult, takes time, and allows for new growth. Quitting is accepting the easy road that is full of regret, self-pity, and will not bring fullness. You’ve got to fight hard for the things you want, and don’t want.
Don’t wait for permission from others to be vulnerable and take a risk; it will never happen. Taking a risk is risky regardless of who approves of it or not. Think of it this way, base jumping isn’t easier because you got a high five.
Babies fall 10,000 times before they learn to walk. Falling hurts, but not being able to walk hurts worse.
The phrase “be a man” needs to be replaced with “tell the truth.” Learning to tell the truth is a process, and judging a process kills progress. Telling the truth is risky. Most of us don’t do it very well. We hint, dance, assume, manipulate, hover, and do all sorts of so many things that take incredible amounts of energy. More energy to hint and dance around a subject than just saying what’s true.
Learning how to be mature is a lifelong journey. It’s a process. It doesn’t happen when you graduate high-school. Have sex. Have a baby. Or when you get a job. Maturity happens when you admit to not knowing, and commit to the process of learning. Not knowing oneself is the deepest of sadness, but not pursuing the knowledge of oneself is the greatest crime against the self. You cannot know what you do not pursue. You cannot know what you do not care about. You cannot know what you do not love.
Conservative, safe, and highly controlled living is not the way we were created to live. This is a difficult reality in the South. It’s hard to not fake it here.
Christianity is a religion. Much like Buddhism, Mormanism, and Footballism. Being a follower of Christ is not religious. There’s a difference.
Refusing to address your dysfunctional behavior and relationships (and your family’s dysfunction) will create incredibly difficulties tomorrow. It will also have a stronger affect on others than you think it will. And on more people than you think.
Happyness (I prefer to spell it with a y) is found in being known by others, God, and ourselves. Want to be happy and fulfilled? Spend some time getting to know you. You’re smarter, brighter, wiser, and more interesting than you know. Don’t live without knowing who’s alive in there.
Being Honest with our Kids
A few weeks ago my friend Laurie, who has 4 kids under 6 years old, messaged me with question about using the word disappointed in response to a kids action. “Is it okay to tell your child that you’re disappointed in them?” It’s a question that I’ve considered quite a bit since she asked. On one hand I want my kids to know that what they do and say in life will have an impact on others, myself included, but on the other hand I don’t want them to have to interpret my choice of words to determine how displeased I am with them. Disappointed is a word that I hear quite a bit and even comes from my mouth at times. Since my friend asked me this question, I’ve struggled to understand what the word really means.
Does the feeling of disappointment mean that you’re sad or angry? Ashamed or frustrated? Hurt or resentful? Or perhaps it means annoyed, irritated, or some other somewhat vague expression? These are just some of the words that come to mind when I consider what disappointed might mean. It might be different for you, but I think the response of a parent is the same regardless of the meaning of the word.
As parents, it’s our responsibility to help our kids name and express things about themselves that might be otherwise difficult to access. For example. When one of my kids gets angry at their sister or brother, they often express that anger in very passive aggressive ways. They’ll growl, slyly bump into the other as they walk past, take the object of contention (this morning it was a blue plate), or roll their eyes. All these actions do nothing in terms of naming the emotion that they feel. The other person probably has a good idea that things aren’t well, but it’s guesswork.
Those few examples of passive-aggressive behavior is why I think it’s important for parents to express their own sense of emotional responses towards their kids in a way that is as specific as possible. Telling a child (and by child, I mean someone under 12) that you’re disappointed in their behavior might be truthful to what you’re experiencing, but I don’t think it’s completely honest to what you’re feeling. Try to name the emotion in terms of where the disappointment is coming from — try to identify the core emotion of Hurt, Sad, Anger, Shame, Fear, or Lonely. More often than not, your disappointment comes from wanting/desiring something more for your child and them choosing not to pursue that same desire. Most often disappointment is veiled anger, sadness, and hurt.
One caveat to this is that as kids mature and become more capable to understanding more complexities of life, the use of words like disappointment, annoyed, frustrated, or irritated might be appropriate fodder for conversations. But even then, I’d encourage the exploration and expression of core emotions to support and explain why those are being felt.
