I got into a fairly involved conversation this past weekend at a candle party.
The wife of a friend of mine was hosting one of those parties where the salesperson comes and shows the myriad of uses for candles in your home. My buddy was going to be the only male in attendance, so I volunteered to come up and represent the gender.
During the party I met about a dozen women in their late 20s and early 30s. Most of them were married, most either had kids or were getting ready to. And most were shockingly negative.
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I'm often told (by folks that read this) that I'm too hard on myself. And for years I've countered that internally with the thought that I'm probably not hard enough.
But maybe everyone's right and I'm wrong.
I've written ad nauseum about my problems, my shortcomings, my character flaws, my imperfections. I've publicly berated myself for them, partially as a method of cleansing, and (admittedly) partially in an effort to convince myself (and others) that I'm self-aware, introspective. Like the kid sitting under the tree in college writing in his journal or composing songs on his guitar.
In these self-rebukes, I've often consoled myself that though I'm wrong and stupid and vile, all I need to do is ask forgiveness and ask for help and all will be right. My evil will be overcome.
But in all these years, I may have missed the point.
Christianity is a fascinating idea. I've written before about the two 'laws of humanity' that we take for granted, even though they are impossible to reconcile, namely:
1) There are no moral absolutes. We are a product of a naturalistic world with simple cause and effect reactions. No such thing as good or evil, right or wrong - just social constructs.
2) People do terrible, evil things all the time. Indeed, there are some pretty wicked people in this world, some of whom have done some really nasty things to me or someone I love. Thankfully, I'm not one of those people. The things that I do that could potentially be construed as evil or wicked - that's just because people don't know the circumstances, don't understand the context.
Those ideas sit in tension in our subconscious, and we try to avoid addressing them (most likely because we know that thinking about them means trying to make them make sense, or else abandon one of them and rethink our position on the world.)
Christianity is fascinating because it doesn't try to sweep these ideas under the rug. It says that there is a natural order to the world, there are laws that exist that have cause and effect, but there's something else behind it - something that determines what is good or evil. It says that yes, I have screwed up just like everyone else, but that I'm not an evil person. Even better, it says there's a way to have a clean slate, a way to be associated with the character of someone who is not evil, and in so doing slowly, often imperceptably replace our muddled characters with His.
That's the story that I've come to believe in. Or so I thought.
All these years of writing have been from a paradigm that says that because I do evil things, because I screw up, I am an evil person. It's the classic 'worm theology' that various churches in various centuries instilled in its people, and it is one of the most deceptive lies we're fed (though we often don't know it.)
All these years, I've subconciously held onto the belief that I'm not a good person, and that I'm really lucky I've got my belief system or else I'd be totally screwed.
But I missed the point entirely. My heart is good. Your heart is good. I am loved just as I am, and so are you. The dirt and the evil things that we do are not who we are - they are what stand between us and a loving, faithful God that desperately wants to be closer to us.
Yes, it's true that this God is just and good, and that my evil actions are what has driven a wedge into that relationship. But those are my actions, not my heart. My soul is good - held captive, a faint image of what it can and should be, but good nonetheless.
It's funny, for all my talk about living life a certain way, I've always had the priorities in the wrong order. I can't take on my faults with a frontal attack - I can't create a to-do list that I can check off.
"Hey look, I'm not greedy anymore... Check! Seeya pride - I'm on a roll!"
I can try as hard as I want to berate myself into being a better person, or I can let go of the idea that I'm a bad person in the first place. I can decide to finally acknowledge that God created me in His image, as something good and loving and worthwhile. I can decide to acknowledge that I'll continue to screw up, but my chances of 'living intentionally' go up dramatically if I let Him do the work in my heart instead of stubbornly continuing to try to do it myself.
I can realize that after all these years of trying to remove the logjam of evil thoughts and actions that have kept me out of the kind of relationship I want, I somehow missed the self-imposed dam, the subconscious idea that behind all those actions is a person who is unlovable, unworthy of such a relationship.
I've tried for years to be less judgmental towards people - perhaps it's time to be less judgmental with myself.
I'm tired of being unaccountable for my actions.
I'm tired of living in a culture that tells me it's okay, I can do what I want. I'm tired of being told that everything is subjective, tired of being told that I can rationalize away my worst thoughts and deeds. I'm tired of being able to chalk my lowest moments up as 'learning experiences.'
I'm tired of seeing people make commitments to each other with no intention of honoring them. I'm tired of hearing about couples getting married only to divorce within a few months. I'm tired of flippant, off-hand comments about someone cheating on someone else, as if such behavior is natural, expected, normal.
I'm tired of being let off the hook.
I want to meet people who don't insist I put on a mask to hide my faults. I want to meet people who are willing to call me on my bullshit.
I write one day about the perils of greed, and the very next I pass right next to a guy asking me for help. Call me on it.
I say something in jest that makes someone feel a little less respected, a little less honorable, a little less beautiful, a little less amazing than they are. Call me on it.
I cut corners on a project because, hey, it's not like anyone else is giving 150% anyway. Call me on it.
I write something clever. People tell me it's clever. I puff myself up like I was the source of my ideas, my intellect. Call me on it.
Don't tell me that I'm being too hard on myself when I point out my faults. Help me work on them, help me become a better person, help me keep the curtain pulled back. Don't make it easy for me to slip back into normal habits. Expect better from me.
And then take the next step. Expect better from yourself as well. Don't put on the mask. Someone asks you how you're doing - tell them. Show your warts. Talk about your demons. Ask to be held accountable.
It's so much easier for us to slip into a mode that says everything is okay, as long as we're happy. It's easy because no one expects anything more from us. Because if they expect more from us, they have to take the next step and expect more from themselves. And that's a difficult thing to do.
I don't know how to change the world for the better. I don't know how to convince our leaders to make intelligent, moral decisions.
But I do know that if I want to hold them accountable, I have to start with myself first. I can't rail againt my leaders or my friends or my family for lying or cheating or stealing or boasting or hurting others unless I'm willing to first confront myself.
And when I do confront myself, openly, honestly....I find a lot of dirt.
There are so many things I do - daily - that I'm not proud of. Things I'd like to do differently. I screw up all the time. I'm not strong enough to live the way I know I should. Not on my own.
I need someone to hold me accountable. But the person holding me accountable can't do so unless they first examine themselves. And once they do so, they find a lot of dirt. They discover that they too need someone to hold them accountable.
Our lives, the organism of humanity, appears to me to be more and more related to accountability. We are not islands. The decisions we make impact us, often in the long term, almost certainly in the short term. Our decisions impact those around us, those we love, those we don't even know exist.
Unfortunately, our nature seems to lend itself to screwing up. Nobody's perfect, and that's probably on purpose. But the answer to screwing up is not to be let off the hook. The answer isn't to rationalize it away. The answer isn't to call it life and forget about it. The answer is to strive to be better - to resolve to lie to each other less, steal from each other less, hurt each other less.
And the best way I've found to support our push to be better is to have someone to hold us accountable. Someone who loves us enough to not let us off the hook, to cheer us on when we succeed, to rebuke us and build us up when we fail.
Are you willing to be held accountable? Are you willing to examine yourself? Are you willing to hold someone you love accountable n similar fashion?
If we did so, I bet the world would very quickly become a much different place.
When you're in elementary school, you start a club. A spy club, or a ninja club, or a boys club or a treehouse club. And in doing so you create your own little world, something you identify with. You and your select group of friends who are in your club suddenly have something that other people don't, and for some reason it's a good feeling. It feels good to tell people that they can't be in your club. It feels good to talk about how stupid people are who aren't in your club. It's feels good to take a young, fragile person who has hopes and fears and insecurities (just like you) and turn them into a caricature - you and your friends call them a dork or a loser and in the process destroy a little piece of their heart...probably in a way very similar to what happened to you when your older brother or sister or friend told you they didn't want you to hang out with them.
We learn when we're extremely little that there are people who are 'in' and people who are not. We learn that if you're not in my group you're probably stupid. In high school we get in fights at the mall or at a party with a group of kids because they go to a different high school than we do - because they committed the travesty of living in different neighborhood we learn to hate them for no apparent reason.
We grow older and hate people because they root for a different basketball team, or because they vote differently than we do, or because their God is different than our God or because their skin tone is lighter or darker or because they speak a different language.
We do it because it feels good to turn people into cartoons. It feels good to feel like you're better or smarter or prettier or faster than others, and the easiest way to do so is to take these complicated, emotional, talented, fragile people and package them up into a singular idea. Once we turn them into cartoons it's easy to hate them.
It's easy to call George Bush an idiot or Bill Clinton evil. It's easy to call the kid downstairs a punk. It's easy to call the guy sitting across from us on the subway a drunk. It's easy to call the beautiful girl on the other side of the bar stupid and easy. It's easy to wave an American flag and dismiss people's complaints as ignorant or unpatriotic. It's easy to shout from a pulpit that the gay guy in the car next to at a traffic light is demon possessed. It's easy to call your Christian coworker an intolerant sheep with no understanding of the real world.
They're not part of our club, so there's something wrong with them.
What's hard is to rip up the membership card.
What's hard is to not get into a stupid argument about whether the Raiders or the Broncos are the better team.
What's hard is to realize that the girl who walked by you on the street with the 'go to hell' stare is probably immensely self-conscious because of magazines telling her how she's supposed to look and talk and interact, that she may have been hurt emotionally or otherwise by a slew of guys who didn't value her as a person.
What's hard is to contemplate the unthinkable tragedies that might have happened in the life of a guy that's reduced him to sitting on a corner without having showered in a week, humiliating himself by having to hold out a three day old paper coffee cup begging you to drop in your spare change.
What's hard is to have a conversation or read an article about protests in France or wherever and ask yourself whether their protests have some serious merit.
What's hard is to acknowledge that every serious political candidate you're seeing on television has lived a pretty extraordinary life, has done a great deal to impact the lives of those around them and holds the ideas they hold (is willing to put themselves on television at our mercy to spread those ideas) because they truly believe that they will help the country in the long run. What's hard is to be willing to admit that the idea that one party is right about every idea while the other party is hopelessly insipid...is pretty insipid.
What's hard is to be aware that there are indeed villians in the world, but they are in much shorter supply than we think. The majority of people we treat as villians are fragile, broken, self-conscious people just like us. And the hard thing is to respond to people, with their scars and blemishes and dissenting ideas and misguided actions....and love them.
We should all consider letting more people into our club.
Forget that - we should all consider getting rid of the club.
- 63% of youth suicides are from fatherless homes - 5 times the average.
- 85% of all children who show behavior disorders are from fatherless homes - 20 times the average.
- 80% of rapists with anger problems come from fatherless homes - 14 times the average.
- 71% of all high school dropouts come from fatherless homes - 9 times the average.
- 75% of all adolescent patients in chemical abuse centers come from fatherless homes - 10 times the average.
- 70% of youths in state-operated institutions come from fatherless homes - 9 times the average.
- 85% of all youths in prison come from fatherless homes - 20 times the average.
Source: The Belmont Foundation
The world needs more noble men. Our women, overworked, underappreciated and underloved, need more noble men. Our children, desperately longing for someone to look up to, someone to admire who isn't pitching them sports drinks or sneakers or nice cars or cheap women need more noble men.
Noble. That's a powerful word. How many of us would be comfortable being characterized as noble? How many guys, if they look into their hearts, into the places no one else sees, would come out on the other side thinking that such a claim is justified?
I know I certainly fail this test. I was blessed with not one but two great fathers who in practically every way far surpass me in the department. I'm often distracted, often waffling, often unwilling to stand up for who I am and what I believe in (at least in the real world, away from the security blanket of a computer screen.)
But I know that I must change. My soon-to-be wife depends on it. My children will one day depend on it. And so will yours.
The world of free love, of pursuing careers before relationships of depth, of insincere vows and drive-through divorce centers - the world of cheap commitments and easy outs has made it easy to be a flake. In the name of "just trying to live one day at a time, trying to do what makes me happy," so many of us men have become spineless. Not about our conquests in the world of business or the basketball court or the nightclub. But in things that matter.
Like having the strength and courage to tell a woman that you love her and only her and meaning it.
Like having the bravery to stick around when money gets tight and stress levels shoot through the roof and babies are crying down the hall.
Like being able to guide a young boy as he grows into a teenager and a young adult, teaching him that honesty, discipline, responsibility and virtue aren't boring, old-world concepts but represent some of the highest aims a man could reach for.
Like having the fortitude to tell a close friend when they're screwing up, loving them enough to hold them accountable so that their lives and the lives of those around them don't represent more ticks in some statmaker's record book.
I got to hear from a lot of amazing people last week, people who've sold their companies for tens of millions of dollars, people who appear to have it all together. I got to watch the Heat battle back against the Mavericks, watching the best of the best battling it out on the court, doing things that my slightly overweight pale butt only wishes it could do.
But in the end, the IPOs and the buyouts and the behind the back passes and the dunks over three guys and the fleet of vintage cars and the swagger and the killer instinct have absolutely nothing to do with what makes you or I a great man. Those are just games, those aren't the arenas that seperate the proverbial men from the boys.
Nobility is forged and earned in our homes, with our families and friends, in our souls that are desperately trying to find something that will make them feel whole. Nobility is acheived when our lives are lived with honor, integrity, honestly, compassion, self-control, faithfulness, love. And all to a greater degree when no one's looking, when the press isn't trying to quote us, when people aren't looking to put us on a pedastal and toast to our greatness.
The men who acheive nobility in this fashion are the men we need to admire, respect and emulate. They are the men who change the world. They are the men who live lives worth talking about.
If you're a father and you feel you fail the test of nobility as I have, I pray that you make this year different - for your sake and the sake of those you love.
If you're not a father, I pray that you think about the kind of man that you are and the kind of man that you wish to become. Forget about the money and the awards and the notches on your belt - think about the kind of man that the world really needs, the kind of man the woman in your life will need, that the little boy or girl and their pliable, fragile life will need. Think about what it would mean for you to be noble.
If you have a father and you haven't told them yet, tell them how much they mean to you. Tell them that their efforts have not gone unnoticed, that their love is felt, that their counsel and guidance is appreciated. Tell them that you admire them more than they'll ever know.
Happy Father's Day.
There's a lot to love about the nature of the web community these days. People working on cool projects, loving what they do, excited to get up each day, truly believing that they have the creativity and passion to change the world in some small way. It's the complete antithesis of so many corporate environments.
But perhaps the most remarkable thing about it is the sense of cooperation. I have never seen anything like it. If you have something you want to do, if you have an inkling of an idea that may have legs, there are dozens of super-intelligent people out there more than willing to help you out. Whether it's offering advice, sharing wisdom from their own journeys or making introductions, it is astonishing how generous these people are.
I'm preparing to move to Chicago, and there's been something I've been thinking about doing for quite a while (inspired by one of the smartest guys I've ever met here in the city.) Yesterday I threw out some feelers to the web community, not really knowing what to expect. The response was swift and overwhelming - people who have enormous responsibilities who have no business wasting their time talking to some idiot whose skill set consists of booger jokes and burning businesses to the ground immediately were offering advice and suggestions, putting me in touch with folks who might be able to help. 24 hours later, I have a much better understanding of what I'd need to do and what I need to think about. And there's absolutely nothing in it for them - they don't know me, they've never heard of me, and anything I could offer they already have (except they're probably better.)
It's at once inspiring and humbling. Imagine if the world operated like this. Imagine what it would be like if everyone were as generous, thoughtful and selfless as these folks are.
What if that were the real lasting impact of this whole Web 2.0 thing?
Simplicity is a difficult thing to come by. We live fragmented, disjointed lives, always running from something, to something. We're trying to get more and more done with less and less time. It's an impossible race that leaves us tired, empty, drained.
We as a society love to prize the man or woman who can do it all. We force thousands of college students out the doors of our universities each year with a diploma and an unwritten mandate to work 80 hours a week to 'make a splash.' We drill it into them that success is exceedingly important, ensuring they do whatever it takes to add a few extra cents to our price per share.
Of course, if they're good we do reward them. But being good all too often means neglecting other aspects of their lives. They marry without understanding the commitment that covenant involves. They have kids thinking that they can realistically maintain their responsibilities both at work and at home. Over time, they're left in a mode of being consistently stretched to their limit. When they're working they're beating themselves up for not being at Jason's soccer game. When they're making brownies they're silently stressed about all the work they're not getting done.
And that's just the work-home dynamic. All the while, they're not exercising enough, not reading enough, not volunteering enough, not talking to their friends or extended family enough.
We long for a simpler life, a life with less stress, more fulfillment. We wish we weren't tired all the time. We wish we didn't feel like we were constantly neglecting some important aspect of our lives. But we haven't the faintest idea how to actually accomplish this.
We tell ourselves that we're just casualties of our society. The world of today places these demands on us, just as it does to everyone else. There's nothing we can do - except do our best to cope.
But what if there was a simpler life to be grasped - what if there was a way to find a more serene, peaceful, balanaced way of life?
What if you could say 'no' to people? What if you could decide beforehand how many commitments and of what variety you would undertake, resolving not to take on anything further? What if you could make a commitment to work on at most five projects or take on five clients, and be able to confidently turn down anything more, even if they were to be spectacularly profitable for your career or business?
What if you could stop desiring to be 'well-known?' What if you were to reject the notion that being more blogged about or technorati'd or whatever represented some measurement of success. What if you didn't care about your online identity nearly as much as you do?
What if you resolved to use plain speech? What if you stopped trying to manipulate people with your words, stopped trying to get people to understand you or see your way? What if you stopped flattering people when you didn't really mean it, racking up a series of small favors in hope of being repaid someday? What if you could only use 1000 words a day, and had to give up the ability to explain yourself? What would your words be? What if you could do this without worry? What if everything that came out of your mouth was full of honesty, sincerity, grace?
What if you could stop desiring more? What if you made a resolution to identify a standard of living you could be comfortable with, a standard you wouldn't rise above even if your means expanded considerably? What if you made the decision that as long as your needs were met, the rest of that money could be given away to people or causes that could benefit dramatically from it?
What if, every month, you went around your house and looked for something that you deemed valuable...and gave it to someone you knew who's life would be blessed by it? What if, instead of cursing aloud to anyone who would listen when that 10 year old stole my iPod in the subway last year, I just gave it to him before he could take it?
What if we approached our financial life as a system of pipes instead of a system of buckets? What if money was an instrument to be freely shared instead of a status symbol to be hoarded?
What if we got rid of our televisions and read more books, visited more museums, took more walks, made more friends? What if we played outside more - when was the last time we actually played?
What if we realized that our kids laugh 20 times more often than we do? What if we tried to be less serious, more joyful?
What if we got closer to the earth? What if we studied the trees and the flowers and the birds and realized that their existence was singular, their purpose clearly defined? What if we realized that maybe our lives are supposed to be similarly ordered?
What if our lives were meant to be focused on one thing, on one Person? What if that person were able to give us everything we needed to have happy, healthy, productive lives? What if that balance we could never seem to find were given to us - if we realized that everything, including ourselves, has a season, a proper time and place? What if we were to submit to those cycles of life, and to determine the proper place for everything by asking this Person who loves us and desires our happiness?
What if simplicity of life weren't something to dream about but something to be grasped? What if less really was more?
Overheard a conversation at the coffee shop this morning. A girl fell in love over the weekend.
The guy really did sound amazing, but the thing that struck me the most was that he wasn't doing anything that remarkable. Rare, but not remarkable.
- The guy's an actor (in New York of all places.) - The thing about actors is that they may not make a ton of money at first, but they are passionate about what they do in a way few people are. Are you willing to do whatever it takes pursuing something you love? Can you make a girl feel like you'd do that for her as well?
- He works with a non-profit in his other life - He's demonstrating that he believes the world is more than a giant bar, that making a difference is very much time well spent.
- He's well connected (she met him at a bar while he was hanging out with Matthew Perry) - he's likable, he's driven and he probably knows a lot of the right people.
- He surprised her with fondue at the top of some restaurant. - He's romantic, creative, and he can plan something to make her feel special.
Finding someone who's passionate, romantic, confident, fun to be around and believes they're here for a reason. It's a shame that people like this are so rare, that they do look so remarkable. It's a shame companies like this are just as hard to find, and perhaps even more remarkable.
Why don't you take this test yourself - for your company, for your personal life. How passionate, confident, purpose-driven, fun and yes, even romantic are you? What about your business? What would a company have to look like, act like to sweep a customer off their feet? What kind of person would you have to become to make someone swoon the way this girl did in the coffee shop this morning?
Both would probably feel pretty awesome if you could pull them off. Neither would be easy. But very few things that are worthwhile are.
When I was in college, I skipped a lot of class.
I used to rationalize it by saying to myself I was busy with other things. I was running a couple student groups, I was coaching football, I was working a job, I was spending a lot of time at the local bookstore reading marketing books. Besides, I was a good test taker so generally my grades ended up fine. And at the end of four years I got to stand on stage and accept an award for student leadership.
But the truth was I was being irresponsible for four years. My education was expensive, and I was cheating myself (and my folks) by not sitting there every single day, learning about waiting lines or beta or cumulous clouds or whatever.
To this day, I periodically have this nightmare about college. It's always the same - I'm in the final semester of my senior year, and I'm all set to graduate. A week before finals I realize that I have this biology class (it's always biology) that I've never been to. I'm going to flunk the class, and there's nothing I can do about it. It sounds stupid, but the fear is absolutely petrifying.
When I got out of school, I started a company with a few guys. And as many of you know, I proceeded to burn it into the ground. I could chalk it up to any number of things, but the truth is I wasn't willing to do the things I needed to do to make it successful. I didn't manage my money that well. I didn't ask for help or advice nearly enough. And the biggie - I did anything I could to avoid going out and selling myself.
Once again, I was being irresponsible. I was acting like a child.
In a few months, I'm getting married. I've been thinking a lot about where I've come from, where I'm going, all the ways my life will change as a result. Making the decision to get married is a very adult decision to be making. And last weekend, I was overcome with fear. It was the same feeling I felt when I had those nightmares. It was the same feeling I felt when my company burned down. It was the fear of knowing that you no longer have the option of acting like a child.
I've realized recently that the guys growing up in America today have the luxury of avoiding manhood for a long time. It didn't used to be that way - you were expected to provide for the family at a young age. You were expected to work the farm, or become an apprentice in some trade, or commute to the local factory. Your parents lived with you when they aged, and you were accountable to take care of them - you couldn't simply shuttle them off to a retirement community and avoid having to deal with them.
These days, the world is different. Relative to the rest of the world, we grow up in safe, affluent neighborhoods. Only some of us have parents who expect us to work when we turn 16. Many of us are given cars, our tuition is paid for, and when we get into trouble we have folks ready and willing to bail us out. Our culture tells us that we should wait to get married, wait to have kids, and avoid "settling down." We're told to not worry about picking a major in college, because we'll end up changing careers anyway. The billboards and television advertisements around us tell us to spend everything we make. We're think that the best uses of our time after work consist of either getting plastered at the bar, gambling online, playing with our new XBox or posting pictures of ourselves taking bong hits on MySpace.
We're fat, happy, rich, people living in a fat, happy, rich country. And our culture has created a bunch of 20 and 30 and 40 year old boys. Men are in desperately short supply.
The problem is that we don't see anything wrong with this. Our women have forced themselves to live with their boyfriend and his Madden football and his pizza boxes piled up in the corner and his affinity for Jaeger bombs. Because they've grown up in the same culture that tells them this is acceptable behavior for guys our age.
No wonder women don't see a problem with dating a guy 20 years their senior. They figure they won't find a guy who acts like an adult unless he's at least 40.
Our women don't need more boys. They need, long for men. There is something programmed in them that tells them they need a guy who is strong, courageous, responsible. They need men who put the game system away, who decide to forget the bar because they have to do their taxes. They need men who have insurance and careers that are going somewhere - not so we can pay their credit card bill but so we can be counted on. They need men who are mature, hard working, willing to act like an adult.
They realize that one day, they might be married to us. One day, they might have children with us - and a boy doesn't raise another boy very well. They realize that a husband who lets the mortgage payment go unpaid because they lost three grand in online blackjack isn't really a desirable trait. Nor is a guy who refueses to put the hesitation aside and make the phone calls, pound on the doors, do the things they need to do to build a successful company or career.
The thing is, I think guys know this deep down. I think that in the recesses of our hearts we know that we're meant to be more. There is a reason we grew up admiring He-Man, a reason we look up to certain guys who have their acts together. We know that within us lies a tremendous amount of energy and power. But we're afraid of what might happen if we tap into that power. It represents a risk - a risk because people will start counting on us, start respecting us, start admiring us.
And if we fail, if we're not good enough, then our worst fears about ourselves will be confirmed. Easier to not step out of the door and always wonder whether you're good enough than step out, get run over and confirm you're not up to the task.
Last weekend, I had one of those moments. I wanted to crawl back into a shell, to play it safe. My fiance saw all of it - saw the fear, saw the nightmare playing through in my mind. And what she said really shook me up - she said that as her husband, it doesn't matter whether I hit a bunch of home runs or fall on my face over and over again. What matters is that I have the courage to face who I am, to face the power I have within me and own up to it.
It's the difference between being a man and a boy, and at the end of the day it's the only thing that matters.
I think one of the fallacies that Christians (and many other people) have is their unwillingness to admit when they are wrong about something. Especially when the reasons for doing so have something to do with faith.
There are times when we makes decisions based on what we think are good precepts. We believe that something would be the right decision, would prove beneficial for ourselves or our families or our communities. We believe that there isn't enough objectivity - that the world is black and white, right and wrong, and those truths should guide our decision-making.
And so we make a decision. And we watch the repurcussions of that decision. Unfortunately we're human, and sometimes those decisions don't turn out quite like we thought they would.
It's even worse when our decisions are public ones, when the repurcusssions are in plain sight in front of our friends and loved ones - sometimes even in front of people we barely know, and sometimes in front of people who told us we were idiots for doing what we were about to do.
All to often, instead of apologizing or admitting we may have made a mistake, we dig in, entench ourselves, look for a reason - any reason - to justify our actions. We look for the tiniest silver lining to back up our opinion. We may look progressively more foolish as time goes on, as the situation gets worse, but it doesn't matter. If we're going to be wrong, we should do so with bravado.
The problem when making decisions based on faith is that we make two assumptions, one right, one wrong.
We're right to think that there is objective truth in this world - there is a right and a wrong answer, and we're right to base our assumptions on those values.
We're wrong to think that we're omniscient enough to always know which answer is which.
The answer isn't to act like a child and demand that we're right even when the evidence more and more clearly suggests we're probably not. The answer is to be willing to admit that we made a mistake, apologize if necessary, and then resolve to do what you can to remedy the situation. The disciple Peter, who once thought that the Gospel was something only for Jews, later recognized his staunch beliefs weren't accurate. He didn't pout, didn't hold his ground - he submitted to what he now saw as the truth and changed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is this: America, I'm sorry about the whole voting for Bush thing.
I have always had a problem with trying to do big, important things.
It’s not a problem in that it often works – for whatever reason, many projects I’ve undertaken have been successful for just this reason. But it’s a problem because I’m often closing a door to the mundane as a result.
We as a people don’t really like the mundane, the practical. We shy away from jobs that need to be done, instead looking for the jobs that have great titles and prestige but no lasting impact. We avoid doing the two or three simple things that would ensure a life of physical well-being, opting instead to make bold New Years resolutions and try to lose 30 pounds in a month. We decide to plan elaborate parties for those we love, inviting everyone we know and spending a fortune in the process...but fail to do the simple, tiny things that make the object of our affection know that we love them every day.
We choose big and public over small and hidden. We want to do something remarkable and great – and let everyone see how remarkable and great we are in the process.
You’d think pulling it off would be enough, but it rarely is. Once we’ve tasted success, made our big score, proved to everyone that we’re smart enough or beautiful enough or talented enough to succeed…we have to do it again. We’re trapped intro thinking that the only problems that should be solved are the big ones, the only battles worth fighting are the public ones, the only lives worth leading are the admired ones.
We can’t for the life of us understand why an author or musician stops after one hit record to be a mother. We can’t comprehend why an athlete would retire after winning their first championship to join the ministry. The idea of a Fortune 500 CEO leaving their post to be a teacher? Impossible.
There are enormous problems in the world that need people’s help. But there are also tiny problems in the world that need a great many more folks pitching in. There’s the school down the road that can’t afford an after school program and could desperately use some volunteers. There’s the church looking to help feed some homeless people this weekend. There’s your father or mother or sister or brother or cousin who you got in a fight with six months ago and haven’t talked to since. There’s the boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife who wonders if you still love them.
Since college, I’ve been a great boyfriend and a great worker. I’ve been a lax son, an even worse friend and a miserable brother. I’ve gained 30 pounds, haven’t donated nearly enough of my time or energy or resources, and have turned down countless opportunities to do important, soul-filling work in obscurity. I’ve worked countless hours doing work with concrete, very visible deliverables, ignoring many other things in the process. My agenda has been focused on what’s big and public and remarkable, often at the expense of what’s small and unnoticed and truly worth doing.
Truth is, no one’s life is going to be improved that significantly by my interface design. No one’s life is going to be forever altered for the better because you closed that deal with the big foods conglomerate, or because you wrote that article in the paper about the top 10 places to buy a handbag.
But that $5 bill you gave that guy on the corner? That might have kept him from going hungry tonight. When you got home from work, threw your bags down, ran to your girlfriend and told her how much she meant to you? That was probably the most important thing you did all day. That prayer you said for your coworker as you were falling asleep? That could end up changing their life.
In a world where everyone is clawing to be more important, more visible, the guy who's really blessed is the guy who's too busy changing their world to care whether you or I are paying attention.
With the wedding and my upcoming move to Chicago, I’ve been worried a lot about money lately. This week I resolved to not spend any money eating out.
This afternoon, as I was sitting in a Starbucks, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. A few minutes after I realized I was pretty hungry, I was pleasantly surprised by a barista, who randomly decided to bring me a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I asked what I did to deserve this gracious and well-timed gift.
She said, ‘nothing.’
I used to think that pride was the most troublesome vice to overcome, but I think there might be a worse one. As I walk through the streets of New York and listen to conversations, as I pass the enormous billboards painted onto buildings, as I look at my bank statements and calculate where my money has gone, as I see how I react to the homeless guy outside the deli, as I purchase the overpriced burger from the overpriced restaurant that I went to because it’s trendy, I’m faced with an enormous truth.
The desire for more is terribly destructive.
We live in a world that prizes accumulation of goods above almost all else. Our status in life is determined much more by the size of our pocketbooks than the content of our characters. We want to associate with people who have money, we long to be in a position where others want to associate with us for the same reason. We look at US Weekly or watch Cribs and not-so-secretly long for the lifestyle that these people possess.
We can’t avoid it. Even those of us who would consider ourselves free from the lusts of pop culture are constantly worrying about how much we have, how much we have coming in, how much we’ll have when we stop working. We worry about where the market is going, how our IRAs are performing, how much equity we’ve built up in our homes. We read books and attend seminars to learn how to improve our net worth, to discover the seven secrets to wealth and happiness. We argue and fight over our finances with our loved ones, and those fights lead (more than any other factor) to the destruction of our closest relationships.
We spend more than we make. We look forward to the weekend so we can hit the sales. We clip coupons. We stockpile. We hoard. We obsess.
We are outraged when the cost of gas goes above $2.50 a gallon, but don’t bat an eye at the fact that half the world lives on less than $2.50 a day. We’re so busy talking about the exclusive club that we managed to get into that we walk right by the guy on the corner holding out their paper cup – the guy who may or may not actually be homeless but whose circumstances are such that they’re forced to degrade themselves by standing on the corner with matted hair and clothes that haven’t been washed in weeks, holding out their paper cup in hopes that we wake up from the absolutely pointless conversation we’re having to toss them a quarter or two.
We enter into bitter court battles to “win” what we “rightfully deserve.” We go to war to “preserve democracy.”
We work an insane number of hours so we can get the promotion that will cause us to work more hours so we can get the next promotion that will cause us to work more hours to buy the expensive suits we need to look as good as the other people on our rung of the corporate ladder and finance the houses we never live in and the cars we never drive and the exotic vacations we never seem to take because we have to work some more.
This is the world I live in, the world you live in, the world our parents and friends and loved ones and co-workers and acquaintances and fellow subway passengers live in. We are the wealthiest people in history, living in the wealthiest country in history, living lives of absolute decadence.
And we’re rotting inside. We’re worried constantly. We’re tired and overworked. We’re envious and covetous. We’re gluttonous and unhealthy. We’re bitter and heartbroken. We’re dying, and we can’t take it with us. Worst of all, we’re so blind we call this worry and jealousy and green and anger and hardness “the American dream.”
I worry all the time about money. I worry whether or not I’ll have enough to pay my credit card bill. I worry whether or not I’ll be able to cover rent. I worry whether or not the market will crash. I worry about what my standard of living will be like when I’m old.
The funny thing is, there has never been a day in my life when I went hungry. There has never been a time when I didn’t have anything to wear, a day when I was forced to sleep outside.
Growing up we didn’t have much, and I always looked at the other kids with their cooler toys and cooler clothes and wished our roles were reversed. But looking back, my childhood was amazing. I had loving parents, a great companion in my younger brother, amazing friends, all the food I could ever hope to eat, a bunch of clothes in my closet I refused to wear after a year, a television in my room with a video game system. My life was pretty amazing.
When my first business failed and I was forced to take a job in Seattle waiting tables, I thought my life was over. I had such little money it was crazy. But looking back, that was a pretty amazing time as well. I lived in a beautiful part of the country, rooming with two friends who absolutely went out of their way for me, knowing I couldn’t carry my fair share, never once condemning me or calling me out on it, exhibiting a kind of generosity and patience I’ve never seen before or since. I met amazing people serving up plates of fish. I gained a newfound appreciation for my skills and my passions. I met a girl on a random evening in a different city under the most unlikely circumstances, and spent the next three months getting to know her over a ridiculous number of long-distance conversations.
Literally every single time I’ve been the slightest bit tight, circumstances (or something else) intervened. It has truly seemed like any time I needed something I was taken care of.
It happened in my childhood. It happened in college. It happened in Washington. It happened today in the coffee shop.
My posture about money and wealth and status must change. I must learn to not care what you think about me. I must learn to stop worrying about where I will live in a year. I must learn to stop fretting over the global economy. I must learn to give that $20 in my wallet to the guy who needs it, and do so joyfully. I must learn to let go.
I must learn to consider the birds of the air, and the lilies of the field.
It's a little embarassing when people ask me what my fiance and I talk about when we're alone. Embarassing because the conversations usually go something like this:
Person 1: What kind of tree is that?
Person 2: You're a tree.
Person 1: You're a leaf.
Person 2: You're a fig.
Person 1: You're a newton.
Person 2: You're an apple.
Person 1: You're Steve Jobs.
These conversations occupy a healthy chunk of our relationship. And interestingly enough, they're some of the most productive conversations we have.
Love doesn't usually die in an instant. It's usually a slow, almost imperceptible death. And many times, it's a result of those little darts we call sarcasm.
The problem with sarcasm is that it rarely servers a purpose other than to fill up conversation. So many times in relationships our humor begins to turn dark as we spend more time together. Jokes that used to be playful, light, self-effacing become cutting, sharp, painful. The goal isn't to upset or offend, for some reason it's just the first thing that comes out of our mouth.
Of course, once it's out we don't apologize. The first few times it happens they know we did something wrong, we know we did something wrong. But they don't want to start a fight over a careless remark, and for some reason we feel the need swell up in us to posture - to act like it actually wasn't a mean thing to say at all. In fact, it was quite funny.
And so it begins. The other side gets used to it, begins to fire their own little darts, which we take. How could we not - after all, they're not trying to upset us. We do it to them all the time.
But eventually the darts get a bit larger, a bit more painful. We start using reinforced steel shafts, poison heads. Soon we move to mild explosives, heat-seekers that go after the softest, most vulnerable places of each other's hearts.
The problem is that we don't mean it. The problem is that long after the conversation has passed, the damage sticks there. The problem is that over time, these darks leave cracks and fissures in our hearts, in the trust that we've managed to build up over time. The problem is that these small comments make us feel a little less smart, a little less beautiful, a little less worthwhile.
It's too small a prick to notice, which is why it's so deadly.
The past two years have represented a concerted effort on my part to curb the sarcasm. Some would argue that it's made me a lot less funny, which is probably accurate.
But a big reason for my relationship's success is because two bright, quick-witted people - people who have become great at dart practice over the years - silently and mutually decided to put the darts away. Though we've both been guiltly of countless moments of forgetfullness or clumsiness or downright stupidity, the darts stay locked up in the shelf.
Whenever there's a lull in the conversation, our filler is embarassingly silly - it's not thought-provoking, it's not philosophical, it's not conversation fit for intellectuals.
But it beats dart practice any day.
Manhood is a diffiult thing to accomplish.
In the past few weeks, I've had a number of female friends talk with me at length about their difficulty in 'finding a good man.' Indeed, this seems to be something that plagues most women I've met (other than the ones I've dated, of course.) On occasion I've heard similar sentiments echoed by men, but it's been rare - their problem is usually not being happy with the women they have.
On the surface, the search for a good man doesn't sound too difficult - women generally want someone who is funny, down-to-earth, who makes them feel like they're beautiful and fun to be around, and who is at least marginally attractive. There's a segment out there that feel material wealth is important (not sure whether this is due to their biological need for security, or the fact that their purses are SOOO too summers' ago,) but by and large I don't find women to be that interested in money.
So why is the search for a good man so difficult? Are women just looking in the wrong places?
I don't think so. I tend to think that there is a significantly larger pool of talented, intriguing, fantastic women out there than there are men. I would submit that great men are in increasingly short supply.
Why is that? What defines a 'great man?' What are the characteristics and qualities that make a man one to be admired, respected?
When we think of great men, we often think of people like Michael Jordan or Bono or Steve Jobs. But we're referring to what these people represent, which isn't much - their great athleticism, their humanitarianism, their business instincts. We have extremlely myopic picutes of these men - they're cardboard cutouts.
Think of the people you know, the men you talk to and interact with on a day-to-day basis. Do you know a man who you'd define as 'great?' What are the qualities you see in them? What makes them someone worth admiring or respecting?
I look into my life and find great men in extremely short supply. In New York, I'm surrounded by men driven by power, status, and possessions. Men who think that a $300 pair of jeans or a first-name relationship with the bouncer at some club is what will put them over the top with a potential mate. They think that the value of their portfolios, or what they pay in rent, or how much they spent on alcohol last night is interesting conversation. They truly believe that unless they are waxed, trimmed, ripped and bronzed, they won't stand a chance with the girl of their dreams. They think that by rising to the head of the class in what is essentially an enormous high school they will be happy, healthy, respected and loved.
Back home isn't much better. My time in Colorado was divided between two worlds - the first was found in the pews of 20-something groups in churches all over the state. They aren't drunks, they are often extremely intelligent, and are very thoughtful. They believe the way to a woman's heart is through respect, and respect is best conveyed by standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding eye contact. They've been raised thinking that their masculinity is somehow a bad thing, and they grow up trying to be as timid as possible. Their anger or frustration or hurt feelings are rarely confronted head-on, but rather take the form of passive-agressiveness. They've chosen to take a difficult road in search of a honest, moral girl, but often end up extremely frustrated and very alone.
The second group was the world of the guy out of college but desperately wishing he wasn't. Colorado Springs is full of thousands of guys, all spending weekend after weekend at the same five bars, hanging out with the same kids they played football with in junior high, with two goals for the evening - meet and charm a beautiful girl with their stories of past glory, and make the best penis joke.
I'm making gross generalizations, and I understand that. But I have story after story of women who can't find a guy worthwhile. The men they meet seem nice enough, but underneath the surface lies a string of extremely common blemishes - vanity, greed, envy, self-loathing, guilt, anger, bitterness, and messed-up priorities. These guys routinely make their women feel ugly, stupid, useless, unworthy of being loved.
Some may argue that a great man is a very difficult thing to define, but I don't think it is.
A great man is honest - with others, with himself. He isn't afraid to point out his flaws, but confronts them openly. He lets you know that he is bruised and broken, just like we all are - and lets you know that it's okay.
A great man is outgoing - not in a used car salesman kind of way, but in a "I like getting to know people, because I appreciate that they have something extremely special and compelling about them" kind of way. They make you feel like you are the most important person in the room, because to them you actually are.
A great man loves variety - they cherish new experiences and surroundings. They constantly look for ways to stretch themselves, to learn things they didn't know before, to see things that they haven't seen before. They aren't afraid to challenge who they are and what they believe in.
A great man has a sense of humor - they recognize that laughter is one of humanity's greatest gifts. Their jokes are kind, sincere, and heartfelt - not meant to cut someone else down but to make everyone around them feel good.
A great man loves creativity for its own sake - they're able to appreciate a painting or piece of architecture or the accomplishments of a business without envy. They love that things exist, and care not who it was that made it.
A great man is generous - with his time, his money, his attention, his energy. He recognizes that the things that remain in this world have nothing to do with the cars or the houses or the jeans, but rather with the time spent with others, the charities granted to those who need it, the personal conversations had with hurting friends.
A great man cherishes their friends and family - they develop close relationships with people and go out of their way to make their loved ones actually feel that love. They call often, visit often and actively try to make those close to them feel special.
A great man loves women, but in a different kind of way. They look at women as the pinnacle of creation - beautiful, intelligent, soft, loving, emotionally-connected in a way they never can be, nurturing, and in most ways their superior. They don't belittle them, don't try to puff themselves up at the woman's expense, would never think of hurting them. They understand that a woman wants to be wrapped up in an adventure, wants to be treated as the beautiful creation that they are, and wants to be reminded constantly of how utterly unique and perfect they are. Their eyes don't wander, their hearts don't covet what is not theirs, and they feel extremely blessed to have the women that they have.
A great man believes they are part of a plan, that they are put on this earth for a reason, to play a part in a story. They aren't afraid to tell others about that story, aren't afraid to pass up opportunities because of that story, aren't afraid to suffer because of that story. Their belief in that story does not make them weak, but it does make them patient, humble, kind-hearted, generous and self-controlled. It gives them a heart unafraid to love unconditionally and regardless of reciprocity. It makes them able to stand up to injustice, makes them able to recognize when they've screwed up, makes them confident that their lives are headed somewhere. It gives them a heart full of love, because they already know that they receive love to a degree they could never fully appreciate or understand. They see people not as evil, but as broken, hurt, missing a piece of their hearts. And they live each day hoping to help people find that missing piece, to let them know that regardless of what happens in this fast-paced, McDonalds and Ipod and television world, that they are loved - by the great man, and by the great man's Father.
This kind of man can't help but be respected, admired - and ironically this kind of man couldn't care less about having such respect or admiration. This kind of man is rare indeed - this kind of man would change our world, our companies, our governments, our relationships.
I wish there were more men like this - I wish I were like this myself.
Had a great dinner last night with some good friends at work, and the discussion turned to my love for entrepreneurship. Why do I think that it's such a noble and worthwhile endeavor? Why do I believe in it so much? When you see all the ills that are brought upon the world by a capitalist society, by massive corporations that used to be slightly smaller organizations that at one point in time were started by an enterprising man or woman in the shower or in a bar scribbled on a napkin - if the end result of that creative spark is so negative, why do I believe in it?
The simple answer is that I believe in what those people represent. I believe that we're put on this world for a reason. I believe we're given enormous talents and skills for a reason. And I believe there are two reasons we're given those talents - first, to bring glory to the source of our gifts, and secondly to use those gifts to imrpove the lives of others.
I believe entrepreneurship is the perfect vehicle to accomplish both of these goals. The entrepreneur must have a vision that goes beyond themselves. They must believe so strongly in something that they're willing to sacrifice their personal well-being - their financial, emotional and sometimes physical health - in the pursuit of their idea.
The entrepreneur has the chance to look into the world and identify opportunity. They have the chance to create a product or service or experience that will make the lives of their customers a little bit better. They have a chance to create a company that makes the lives of their employees a little bit better. And they have the chance to make the lives of their shareholders a little bit more comfortable as well.
This isn't to say that the entrepreneur always takes advantage of this opportunity. Quite the contrary - far too many entrepreneurs choose to create something solely to line their pockets. They speak not in terms of building a company and a culture that fulfills some big important goal, but rather in terms of how much they want to sell for, or the time frame in which they hope to go public. They care little for their employees, little for their customers. They think of ways to convince the customer their product is amazing rather than making the product amazing in the first place.
It's true - these people exist, in large numbers. But their behavior doesn't change my opinion about entrepreneurship, just as the frequency of serial killers doesn't change my opinions on capital punishment. There will always be the best of us and the worst of us in humanity. I just happen to believe that the impact felt by the perfect entrepreneur would far surpass the impact felt by the perfect artist or sculptor or basketball player or lawyer.
And that's what I push towards - the hope that someday I will either be associated with that perfect entrepreneur, wrapped up in something grand and meaningful and life-giving - or I'll come as close as I'm able to being that perfect entrepreneur myself. A lot of pressure to put on oneself or on another person - but I believe it's infinitely more worthwhile than the pressure to beat earnings estimates or to cash out for X million.
For all my character flaws, I feel as though I'm generally a pretty good natured guy. But these past few weeks I've been extremely angry.
The majority of clients we work with are fantastic - good natured, easy going, and excited to be collectively striving to acheive a shared goal. But once in a while you get a bad apple.
For some reason, we have a disproportionate share of bad apples in the form of faith-based schools. Again, most have been great to work with. But we've had a few recently that seem to absolutely contradict their beliefs via their behavior.
The irony in some of the emails I get is so heavy I feel like my desk is going to break under the weight. The following represents an exaggeration, but by the tiniest of degrees:
Dear Sean,
I woke up this morning hoping it'd be a good day, but I see you've decided to destroy such a wish. I'm sure I've worked with more idiotic companies in the past, I just can't seem to think of one off-hand. If you'd consult the copy we submitted to your incapable hands on February 12th, you'll clearly see that the second paragraph on page two is supposed to say "...our culture is the product of our students and their relationship with Christ. With God as their counsel and guide, they conduct themselves with dignity, patience and grace." You misspelled the fifth word, idiot. Call me when you've fixed this, and when you've gotten a clue.
This client has called our salespeople shady, our designers incompetent, our editorial staff lazy and our client services team liars. For a company that is used to having productive client relationships, regular recommendations to other departments in the university, and clients who volunteer to stand up in front of their peers to testify to the effectiveness of our programs, these couple of clients have represented enormous drains on resources and employee morale.
In a way, though, dealing with these couple clients has been an enormous blessing. I used to wonder why so many people criticize Christians when they slip up, or when they exhibit patterns of behavior that seem contrary to their theology. But now I get it.
Engaging with these few bad apples has seriously upset me. I've never felt as ashamed to be associated with Christianity as I am when my colleagues read the emails that are blasted their way from these folks in Christian higher ed. It is absolutely appalling that they don't recognize the sharpness in their words, don't understand that every single word that comes out of their mouths or is typed into a correspondence has an impact on what people think of their faith. They, of all people, should know that their obligations as representatives of their university pale in comparison to their obligations as witnesses of the faith they claim to profess. I pray their institutions don't produce graduates of simliar character.
I get it now - Christians are held to a standard, whether we realize it or not. People are often dispositioned against the beliefs already, and any character flaws, vices, or careless words serve as fuel on an already smoldering fire. I don't claim to be a great (or even average) carrier of the proverbial torch, but when I see an email from one of these clients taking something that my team has put a ton of energy into and just rip it to shreds, it breaks my heart. Not because we have more work to do, but because of the bad taste it leaves in the mouths of everyone they come in contact with.
You claim to walk with God - I fear you took an enormous fork in the road somewhere. Open up that Bible you claim to love to much and read try reading it again - you skipped a few testaments.
I have plenty of theories about what makes a relationship work and what doesn't (in college, I wrote a book on the subject and sold it to guys for $50 on the Internet. Sold nine copies...I think my mom still keeps them in her basement.)
But if I had to say there was one rule that has served me particularly well, it's this:
Always think twice before saying something that might hurt their feelings. Never think twice before saying something that will make them feel good.
More...
A little over a year ago, I burned a business into the ground.
People tend to look at me funny when I talk about failing in business. They seem to still believe what we're all taught in school - that failing in work or in a relationship or in a business means that the person failing is a failure themselves. However, I was fortunate enough to grow up with family and loved ones that didn't believe this. They taught me that failure is simply a step on the way to success.
It was with that in mind that I decided to dig through the ash of my business and condense the lessons into the presentation I gave last week. Being surrounded by people who were all much smarter than me, I was worried it'd be a waste of everyone's time. But much to my surprise, it actually went over fairly well - even got voted third best presentation of the conference. A couple folks suggested I talk about my lessons here as well, for the benefit of all (and by all they meant my two readers.)
This is the first in a series of posts about my hard-earned lessons in entrepreneurship. It's about the thrills and pitfalls of starting a new venture. It's not about the 'business plan + venture capital = success' formula that you often learn in school, but rather the 'group of guys get together, pool their savings, and proceed to live off of Kraft Mac & Cheese for the next 6 months trying to build something worthwhile' formula. It's the formula that most people end up needing to pursue, and frankly, the only formula I know anything about.
I hope you find this at least marginally useful, and I'd love to hear about your own adventures.
More...
On those rare occasions when I find myself in a conversation about the inherent goodness of people, I like to talk about kids.
I went back to Colorado again this past weekend to look for wedding sites. While we were back there we spent some time with my parents, and they ended up showing Michelle a bunch of videos from my childhood. It was amazing to see how different my brother, my friends and I all looked. But what was most striking was how mean we were. The video is full of us making jabs at each other, hitting each other, and generally trying to make each other feel bad about themselves. It was quite a spectacle.
Now, one could simply chalk it up as 'boys being boys' and move on. But I think it deserves a little bit more attention. Think back to when you were a kid. Think about how mean people were to each other. Think about how badly you/they desired to fit in, to be a part of the 'in crowd.' Think about how, if you were to go inside the little minds of the boys and girls you knew growing up, you'd likely find an immense amount of insecurity and envy.
Think about the stories your parents used to tell you about your childhood. Think about your own children during their first few years - and be honest. Did their behavior express patience, gentleness, goodness, humility, self-control? Do they constantly look for opportunities to help out, to think of other before themselves? Do they voluntarily give up something that they have, something that they love, so that someone else can enjoy it?
We like to believe that deep down we're very good people, and that perhaps the world, the media, or some mental illness is what corrupts people and turns them into something bad, something they're not. But it seems to me that by and large, it isn't the vices and the character flaws that we have to learn - it isn't badness, evil, sin, whatever you want to call it - it doesn't seem to me that society forces that down our throat. It seems to me that by the time we know what's going on, we're already very good at many of those things.
I grew up in an extremely loving household. I had two sets of fantastic parents who loved me and cared for me and made me feel special and important and worthwhile. I didn't have anything traumatic happen to me - didn't grow up in a bad neighborhood, never had to watch someone die, never was confronted directly with how unfair the world could be. And yet I was just as greedy and selfish and insecure as the next kid. I didn't have to have a rough life to learn these things - they came quite naturally.
Even now, if I'm really honest with myself, I know that many of the things that would make me a 'good person' - the acts of genorosity and kindness and the like - even after all these years, they often are still more difficult than the alternative. Even though I feel extremely guilty after lying or being self-centered, though I kick myself after for not giving money to the guy on the street or for saying something in anger, if I step back and think about how it feels beforehand, it seems to me that the less virtuous action is the easier action to take. If someone says something stupid or offensive to me, it takes work to not say something sarcastic back to them. It takes work for me to take out my wallet, hand a guy a few bucks and walk away without thinking about how that guy should get a job or about how virtuous I must have looked to the passersby.
Lots of people like to believe in the goodness of people - they like to think that sure, there are exceptions like Hitler or Hussain or their third grade teacher or their boss, but those are exceptions. And the things that they do themselves that are less than virtuous (and that, if they were truly honest about it, happen all the time) are swept under the rug, or shrugged off with a "well, nobody's perfect."
Watching that tape this past wekend, thinking about my childhood and the childhood of pretty much anyone I've ever known, I know better.
Conducted a student focus group at a client today, and was amazed at their responses. They were suprisingly, almost shockingly negative about their experience at the school.
As they were talking, I was wondering to myself how much of it was the school and how much of it was the group. This particular group of kids work together all the time, and it was obvous in the stories they told and how much they knew about each other.
I believe that it isn't just organizations or businesses that have a "culture" associated with them. I think groups of people - familes, friends, sports teams, classrooms - can similarly adopt an unstated sense of values, a framework through which they see the world.
Meetings like today reminded me that sometimes, a culture of negativity has a way of infecting each of its members. You take a cheerful, optomistic student and you stick him in this group and ask him to work with the others for 9 months, and I'm willing to bet you'd see a drastically changed person.
All the more reason to be extremely intentional in choosing the people you associate with. If you're surrounded by angry, bitter, negative people who consistently make you feel bad and bring you down, you need to significantly reduce (or eliminate altogether) the amount of time you spend with them. This is especially true if you have goals and ambitions that you're reaching for.
I heard a story once about catching crabs (the animal, not the medical condition.) As long as you have two or more crabs together, you can keep them in an extremely shallow container. Even though they could easily climb out on their own, the other crabs actually pull them back into the box.
It may take a lot of energy and it may hurt, but if you don't do whatever you can to get out of that box, the end result could be the death of your spirit.
There's a whole other world out there, and I caught a glimpse of it this past weekend.
There are people who have started successful consulting firms and have worked for two major media companies...and just reached an age where they can legally buy alcohol.
There are people who have had their lives shattered in the wake of natural disaster, and within 14 days have become part owners in what will certainly become marvelously successful ventures.
There are people who run websites where they post videos of guys getting hit in the head with shovels...and as a result never have to worry about money again.
There are people who have plans to go on trips that last 7 months and take them to 7 continents on no more than $7,000.
There are people who have started and sold multiple companies before they were 25, and who get to just kinda hang out as they deliberately plan their next enterprise that is certain to be just as successful as those that proceeded it.
There are people all over the world like this - unassuming, often very shy, usually extremely humble people - and you'd walk by them never knowing that they live in a world that is completely unlike your own. While you grind your brain into the ground at your job, they're doing things that they love and often living very well as a result.
Once you have a glimpse of this world, you tell yourself that you'll never let the door close on it - that you'll burn the memory of these people and what they represent into your brain. And you look forward to the day when you will live in their world - so joy-filled, so full of life, so open to whatever new opportunity or challenge comes their way.
Above all, you're immensely grateful that you had the chance to meet them.
I'm struggling to remind myself why I left Colorado.
As the plane was landing at Newark, my heart was heavy. I had just spent 8 days in a place where the air is clean, the views are breathtaking and the people are friendly. It's true - not everyone is driven and focused on making themselves into something big and important. They don't seem nearly as concerned with being a success in the eyes of the world - they're much more concerned with being a good friend, a good family member.
You drive up to a toll plaza along E-470, and the attendant seems to be sincerely happy to be there, a happiness they seem intent on passing on to the drivers on their morning commute. No matter what restaurant or what store you walk into, the staff actually go out of their way to help you out. No stares, glances or body language to suggest that you aren't rich or white or well-connected enough to be there. Even in the Broadmoor, one of the finest hotels in the country, they warmly greet you as you walk in. They know you're probably not staying there, and that you just want to see the beauty that everyone talks about. It doesn't matter - based on the manner in which they treat you, one would think you were a regular.
Michelle never really understood when I said that the buildings in Manhattan weren't that impressive. After eight days spent driving through, skiing down and gaping at 14,000 foot mountain after 14,000 foot mountain, she gets it. The manmade glory that Manhattan tries to construct for itself is absolutely dwarfed by the natural glory of this country that far too few have taken the time to see.
Perhaps most noticable was the lack of stress we both felt. After a year spent working days, nights, weekends, trying to catch up, stay caught up, trying to keep everything from spinning out of control, the release we felt during the eight days was like water in the desert. My creativity, my energy, my health were noticably depleted before I left, and the recharge couldn't have come at a better time.
But now I'm back. The mountains, the rivers, the buffalo are gone. The genuine smiles, the light laughter and the strangers who feel like old friends are gone. Replaced with cold concrete and steel. Replaced with the sound of horns and subways. Replaced with $10 beer and $20 burgers.
Life replaced by...something else.
November 16, 2005
The Bible is just a crutch. God is a belief system that man created to make ourselves feel better. We like to be drawn into a story, and that's what this old book is - a story. Passed down from generation to generation, probably embellished and changed as the years have passed. It's a myth, something to make us feel better.
That's the argument, that God and Christ and Adam and Eve and the Bible represent are a story. And I wholeheartedly agree.
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November 03, 2005
I had a very interesting conversation with a coworker the other night. It started with a conversation about job stuff but quickly turned into a talk about the meaning of life (it's officially a trend.) I explained to her why I see us not as evil people but broken people who are missing something very big and real and important, and that as a result we do lots of mean and terrible or stupid or hurtful things to ourselves and others in an effort to capture that piece that's missing. I talked about how for me, being a Christian isn't about being right or about avoiding something terrible but rather is about rediscovering a long lost love.
It was interesting - she listened. It wasn't like those discussions in philosophy class, or those debates one has in bars about the meaning of existence. Those are about proving something, and that's probably why they just result in people getting angry.
People say don't talk about religion or politics. But I'm realizing politics and religion are two completely different things. Politics is about figuring out what's right and wrong. Religion is (or should be) about understanding why we behave the way we do and why we all feel like we're missing something. It should be about that search. And, ultimately, it should be about an amazing love relationship.
I've heard it said that you can't love something unless you've seen someone else love it. If you think about all the televangelists and the people standing on blocks in college yelling about the end of the world, and even of the thousands and thousands of well-meaning people in churches all over the country who don't talk about love but rather about being good enough and right enough...when you think about all of that, it's easy to see why people are turned off or downright hostile. You're selling them an idea - and idea that goes against their worldview and a sell that reinforces why they don't like 'people like you' in the first place.
When I talk about what it's like to be in love with my girlfriend, that doesn't invite hostility. More often than not, people not in a relationship want to hear about what it's like and want to know more.
If I talked about my relationship with God the way it's meant to be, what would people's reaction be?
October 29, 2005
Had an interesting conversation with a budding improv comedian and weekend philosopher last night. The conversation was over drinks, and as such it jumped from topic to topic every 15 seconds or so. But looking back it seems the heart of the conversation was about meaning.
My friend asserted that by focusing on meaning (referring to my faith) I was confining myself, limiting myself to a tiny view of a much larger world. He said the only way to appreciate life is to understand that there is no meaning (since we're all accidents, the result of an endless series of evolutionary mutations large and small over billions of years) and to 'embrace what is now.'
This troubled me, because my entire life is constructed around meaning. The more I thought about it, the more It seemed as though all our lives are constructed around meaning. The things we say, the things we do. The job we have, the shows we watch, the things we buy.
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