The Point of Trying

For much of my life, I have played softball. In this game, if you go to bat and get out, you have failed. In fact, they even have statistics telling you how much you have failed. If you fail seven times out of ten, you are actually doing pretty well.

Some of you may be screaming at me already to think on the positive side, but bear with me. I have a point to make.

As I grew up, I found that the attitude of not attaining what I wanted left me feeling the same way I did when I walked back to the bench after an out in softball. I had failed.

I often had talks with myself, telling me that I hadn’t failed; I had only gained a life experience. This was true, but I still felt pretty disappointed. The result was that I often didn’t take chances on opportunities for fear of being rejected or feeling like a failure.

One day, a new thought entered my mind. In life, you don’t usually work on percentages. There is no average taken on what you do. You just do it or you don’t. If you don’t, the worst that can happen is that you are exactly where you started. Rejection doesn’t mean you lose ground, it only means you haven’t gained any.

This isn’t true with everything in life, of course. I’m not about to roll the dice on my home. Some actions we take can cause a loss. However, when it comes to reaching for the things I want where I have nothing to lose, I just go for it, knowing that if it doesn’t happen, I haven’t lost any ground.

Michael Jordan once said that he missed 100% of the shots he never took. I have changed my attitude quite a bit. I tend to cast my net into the sea of life a bit more. I feel better because I do. I no longer regret the shots I never took.

Is your love like raspberries or strawberries?

Tom looked worried, very worried. It was obvious. I asked him what was bothering him.

He said, “My wife will soon be having our new baby.”

“That’s wonderful,” I replied.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that when our new child is born I will love her more than my first daughter,” Tom stated sadly.

I could see his dilemma. How could somebody be in the presence of two people and not like one more than the other? No two objects are equal, are they?

Then a bolt of lightning instantly struck my brain. If you asked me whether I like raspberries or strawberries better, I would be hard pressed to give you an answer. I like both of them for different reasons. I really couldn’t say that I like one more than the other. On one day, I might say strawberries. At other times, my answer would be raspberries.

I relayed this message to Tom. He listened intently and was relieved with the nugget of wisdom I had tossed him. I smiled, too. “That’s very profound,” I thought.

Well, that wasn’t the end of this idea. Oh no, it was about to expand faster than the universe.

It all happened the next time I walked into my local ice cream parlour. First, you need to know that I LOVE ice cream. To me, it should be one of the basic food groups all on its own. Next, you need to know that this place had many, many flavours, and I was going to get two scoops. The girl behind the counter started asking questions that weren’t fair and she smiled as she saw the torture each one was putting me through.

“Would you like a cup, a waffle cone or a regular cone?” she purred.

“Give me a waf…, no a reg…, no, yes a regular cone,” I stammered.

The first question was like a bullfighter waving his cape. The next was like the sword thrust that ended the spectacle.

“What flavours would you like?” she teased.

“Chocolate peanut butter and ….” I paused for what seemed an eternity, pacing up and down the counter like a caged lion. I still can’t remember what my second choice was. I did learn another valuable lesson from life, though.

My profound thought had expanded well beyond strawberries and raspberries. People are like different flavours of ice cream. The combinations are limitless. Yes, there are some flavours I don’t like, but there are many I do. I can appreciate all the ones I do like for what they are. And, you know what? I can do the same with people. All I have to do is remember ice cream when I see them and celebrate the individual flavours they bring to the world.

Oh, by the way, would anyone like to be my rocky road ice cream?

What if?

I love writing. There are times when my spirit aches just to sit down at my keyboard and type. I hope you are enjoying what I write.

I often catch myself playing the “what if” game. What if something I write catches fire and makes me famous? What if I write something that really offends somebody? What if I run out of things to write about?

The next game I play is “drop of water in the ocean”. I am only one in a gazillion people in the world who is writing. What’s so important about what I write? What difference will I make? Who do I think I am?

Then comes the “what will others think” syndrome. Writing is very personal. Will I look like some sort of dork? Is if ok to reveal your inner thoughts?

Then the still voice in my heart says, “You like writing? Write. Everything else will look after itself.”

If what I write eases the burden of one person, brings a smile to one person’s face, then that is enough.

I have found my life so far like quicksilver. You must learn to gently cup it in your hand. Trying to grab it will make it squirt away and you will be left with nothing.

“Whisper words of wisdom. Let it be.”

However, Oprah, if you are reading this, I am available to appear on your show! If I am going to dream, I might as well dream on a huge screen with high definition.

That's an Interesting Question

I’ve had the good fortune to have many jobs in my life. Almost every one has brought me some wonderful experiences. It has given me the opportunity to meet interesting people. One of the most interesting was Claude Deschamps.

Claude was the Executive Director of Softball Canada. Little did I know that part of the interview process for the job of Technical Director was finding somebody who could complement his abilities.

Claude was not a difficult man to get along with. They don’t come friendlier. I don’t think that anybody would disagree that he was a peculiar man, though. How was he different? Claude would work seven days a week, usually well into the evening. Part of the lore is that the President of the sport phoned the office on Christmas Day and Claude was there. He never asked for a raise, stating that he would gladly work for free. This didn’t help my negotiating power when it came time to renew my contract. Almost every day he had the same lunch, a clubhouse sandwich and fries with gravy. While looking after sponsorships was really his task and keeping statistics at the national championships the Technical Director’s, we were flexible enough to swap responsibilities.

Working for any national organization in Canada is difficult. Being such a large country with a political system that gives great powers to the provinces, keeping everybody happy can be very difficult.

Claude had it all figured out. Everybody recognized his hard work, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have to grit his teeth often. When I arrived, he took me under his wing and made sure that I benefited from the knowledge he had obtained through many years of experience. One of his best nuggets of advice came when we were flying to my first annual meeting in Whitehorse.

Claude said, “John, this weekend, somebody is going to come up to you and ask you how you feel about this or what your opinion on that is.”

“So?” I replied.

“Whatever you do, do not tell anyone how you think,” came the reply.

I asked, “Then what do I do?”

“Just say ‘That’s an interesting question’, that’s all. The result will be that you will be entertained for about 20 minutes about what that person thinks about the subject. You see, they really don’t care what you think. They want you to know how they think. Anyway, if you give your opinion you can’t win. You are in trouble if you have a different viewpoint from the person asking the question. If you are in agreement, he will go tell other delegates your reply and some may not agree with you, then you are in hot water again. It is better to be quiet and listen.”

The next day at lunch, I was walking down the streets of Whitehorse. I met George, a delegate. The first words out his mouth were, “Hi, John. This is an interesting annual meeting. What do you think about …?” My reply? “That’s an interesting question!” For the next twenty minutes I listened to what George thought. I just smiled, not because I enjoyed the monologue. I smiled because my new friend had taught me a valuable lesson in life that I still cherish today.

Is Our Society Helping Terrorism?

First, click on the hyperlink below to watch an interview with Arthur Kent. You will first see a short clip advertising a Canadian program called The Hour. Hang tight. It will come.

http://www.cbc.ca/thehour/video.php?id=1525

Arthur has been covering Afghanistan for decades. He is also a very good journalist.

In his interview with George Stroumboulopoulos (10 points if you can pronounce this on the first try), he says some things that I didn’t know. He says that the Taliban and Al-Qaeda receive major funding from the trafficking of heroin.

Also, the leaders in Afghanistan who were placed there by us are corrupt. It’s like pouring bacteria on a wound.

This leads me to this question. Where are they selling this heroin? Who are the people who are buying it? If we could get rid of the people who buy it rather than the people who grow it, wouldn’t that stop the terrorists from funding their projects?

We all know that we are fighting a losing war against drugs in the Western World. However, if puts a different spin on it when it seems as if homeland security is being compromised by those in our society who choose heroin as their drug of choice.

Next time you hear colleagues or friends talking about heroin, do me a favour. Ask them if they know that their money might be going to the same group that caused 9/11. Yes, I feel our society would be better without drugs like heroin, but when the irresponsible actions of others potentially jeopardize our lives, I am even more concerned.

I have heard the argument about how wars in the Middle East are all about oil. Again, I ask the question, who is using most of this oil? If you want to seriously stop a war that is based on oil, wouldn’t it seem practical to reduce or eliminate the need for oil? Would it not make sense to invest the money spent on armies and weapons on funding for technology that would help us use less of the product.

When it comes right down to it, who do we blame? Who do we fight? Whose world and society do we try to change? Certainly not ours. No, that hits too close to home. It’s a lot easier to blame others. Just in case you are wondering, I point the finger at myself in this, too. Anyway, we are right, aren’t we? Why should we change our lifestyle?

You’re right if you think that the solution isn’t this simple. However, I’m afraid that in this war we haven’t identified all of our enemies, because one of the enemies might be ourselves.

The Dance Lesson

In my days when I was single, I belonged to an international folk-dance club in Ottawa. It was great fun. Most of the steps were quite simple. I was mimicking villagers of different cultures while I practised terpsichore. My soul was captured by the music while my body swayed as generations had done before.

Even though I thoroughly enjoyed my evenings, there was one slight problem. I wasn’t very good at it. Many dances had circles or lines. The experts were in the front or interior circle. The rest of us stumbled around in the back. It didn’t help that I laughed heartily when I made a mistake. Folk dancing was to be taken seriously, thank you.

Still, I had many friends in the back row. They could join me knowing that they would have no fear of being the worst one.

Then came a day I will never forget. With it came a lesson in life.

We were going to learn the polka. I had never done the polka. My only recollection of it was watching Lawrence Welk on television. The shot would change to members of his studio audience dancing the polka. I remember their heads bobbing up and down like kids on a pogo stick. Sometimes Lawrence or Bobby would join in. The only problem was that they never seemed to show what the feet were doing. What sort of footwork did I have to perform to produce the required head bob?

Fortunately, the instructor was an expert. All you had to do was move your feet this way, hop a bit and that was it. It was simple until I had a partner in my arms.

My first victim was one of the better dancers in the club. As we cavorted around the room, she gave me instructions along the way of what I should be doing to perform the dance correctly. And I did improve. However, when the dance was over, we both thanked each other very weakly and I tried to fade into the background.

That night there were not many males present. This meant I had another partner for the next polka. I didn’t know whether to apologize before we started, but I didn’t. We danced. I would like to say that I improved from my first attempt, but I didn’t. When you crash on your first attempt of riding a bicycle, the second try is often shakier. I felt the same way with the polka.

This woman was very different and I discovered very wise. She said, “You’re doing very well for the first time, but if you try this, I think you will enjoy the polka more.” What? She didn’t mind that I was trampling on her feet and kicking her in the shins? She could have been like the first partner and pointed out what I did wrong, but she didn’t. She praised me and encouraged me to try something that would help me, John Stevens, to enjoy dancing more. And like before, I did improve, however, this time when I strode from the dance floor, I strutted with attitude. Walter Ostanek, Canada’s Polka King, would have been proud of me.

What was the difference between the two dance partners? You figure it out. When you do, I’ll be on the sidelines waiting for the next polka to start.

My Daily Choice

I love the news. I read the newspaper every day. I try to watch the television news at 11 o’clock. I like to know what is happening in the world. When I worked in London, England, I was in paradise. The company I worked for subscribed to every newspaper available. I was able to get many viewpoints of the same story.

What I noticed (and still do) is that most of the news seems to be about what is wrong with the world. I read about floods, hurricanes, droughts, famine, war – the list goes on and on and on. It is easy to fall into a rut of fear for what is happening. There seems to be little I can do to change the world.

But it all comes down to one choice I can make daily.

In life, I have noticed that there are many examples of opposites. We have left and right hands. Light switches go on or off. The sun is up or down.

The one choice I can make daily is whether I am going to be positive or negative. I can choose to build people up or to tear them down. I can choose to make the world a better place or to make it worse. The choice is mine. What is more interesting is the affect that my choice has.

If I am negative, I usually feel down and unhappy. The people around me, at least, those who want to be around me, are also grumpy. If I give out positive energy, I generally feel happy. People like to be around me and I lift them up.

Now, I am not saying that I try to sugar-coat reality. There are times when I don’t like what is happening in my life. You are no different. That shouldn’t stop us from saying something nice about something or somebody.

I guess I look at it like this. The gears of life turn every day. I can choose to pour sand in them or oil. I can make the situation better or worse.

As an occasional teacher, I have observed this. If I catch the students doing something wrong, I know that I am usually in for a tough day. If I can catch them doing something right and praise them, it is most likely going to be smooth sailing.

So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to be somebody who is positive and known for building people up or are you going to be a negative person who tears people down? Quite often this is the difference in being happy or sad.

The Game of the Keys to Life

A few years ago, I had to plan an activity for a youth group, followed by a talk. Little did I know that after the game, the true meaning of what happened would come to light.

Wanting to be original, I devised a game where a hamper, filled with chocolate bars and candy, sat on a table. Everybody wanted it. There was only one problem. It was locked and required a key to open it. I told the participants that their objective was to find the key to open the lock. They had one hour. I supplied them with a sheet with clues and told them that there were twenty keys outside in the neighbourhood. Other than that there were no other rules to the game. They could organize themselves in any way they chose.

When we started, some formed groups with their friends, some chose to search alone and one person decided not to participate. The neighbourhood was filled with kids scurrying around.

At the end of the hour, one group had found eight of the keys, another five and the rest were divided among the others. Of course, the person who decided not to participate had none.

The time came to see whose key opened the lock. The group with eight tried all of theirs, but none worked. Those who had five were unsuccessful, too. One of the groups who had fewer had the key that opened the lock to the treasure.

The two groups who had gathered the most keys complained that the game was not fair. After all, they had gotten the most keys. I had to agree with them and muttered some cliché that life was often like this. Did they expect life to be fair?

Then I began my talk.

I explained that in life we often set our sights on treasures. They usually take keys to open. The keys may be things like a certain level of education, courses on various subjects, physical strength, an honest character, even good looks. There are many more keys to success that you can imagine.

In life, we can choose to look for keys any way we want. The more we cooperate with others and work with them, the greater our chances of getting more keys. If we work alone, though, it is still possible to get keys. However, if we refuse to participate, the chances of getting the key that will open our treasure will be zero.

Although the number of keys that you get doesn’t guarantee success, it will increase your chances of opening the treasure. Still, a person with only one key does have a chance of opening the treasure you want. Although it doesn’t seem fair, life is like this.

Then it struck me. Right in the middle of my talk, I understood something I had never understood before. The groups that had complained that they had lots of keys, but had lost the treasure had missed the point, and so had I.

Yes, not one of their keys had opened the treasure. But, they still had lots of keys. The game was not over. They still had the keys. There must be locks out there somewhere that contained other treasures that could be unlocked by these keys.

The first part of the game was accumulating as many keys as possible, but that did not guarantee the the first lock that was encountered would be opened by one of them. What is important is the second phase. If your treasure isn’t opened on the first try, you must look for other locks.

Perhaps the job you really wanted was given to somebody else. Maybe the girl of your dreams can’t return the same affection. What you have to realize is that the gifts that you have been given, have worked for and found, the keys, will eventually open up your treasure as long as you keep looking. Sitting around complaining that your keys didn’t open up the first treasure you sought won’t do any good. You have to keep looking for the treasures that fit your keys. Otherwise you will live a life full of regret and unfulfilled potential. You will always be looking back at what might have been instead of what will be.

Yes, there is a treasure out there just for you. Just keep looking and keep collecting those keys, then look for the locks they will open.

The Mirror of Death

Although it is inevitable, losing a loved one is never easy. Suddenly a part of your life is gone and there is a gaping hole that was once filled with love. I, like everyone else, have had to cope with this emptiness, but it took the death of my dear friend, Sarah, a border collie who was my faithful companion for almost 16 years, to come upon a discovery that changed my life.

Sarah was an abused puppy we rescued when we lived in England. When we went looking for a dog, I was keen on another one that was in the foster home we visited, but she chose me. Her abuser had been a man and she feared all men, but for some reason she saw something in me, very much a man, that was different and boldly approached me wagging her tail. In spite of my protests, it was a battle I could not win. She was the dog for me and that was it.

When we got home, we found that Sarah could not be left alone. She was completely terrified. We guessed that in her former life, she had been left alone, did something wrong, as puppies often do, and was beaten when the master returned. Not being a dog psychologist and living in a dog-friendly country, the easiest solution was to take her to work. Anyway, she responded well to the training. Most of the time, she hid quietly under my desk. The only hint of a dog in the office was a tail wagging when somebody walked by, especially a colleague, Ann, who doted on Sarah and often took her for walks in the park at noon.

In time, Sarah proved to be a wonderful friend. She led an interesting life. When we moved back to Canada, the option of leaving her in England, although there were a few offers to take her, was never considered. We had shared too many walks and talks to be separated. Anyway, she had chosen me. The choice was not mine.

After years of devotion on both of our parts, the time came when cancer took over and we had to put her down. In the cool shade of our front lawn, we stared into each other’s eyes, trying to prolong the moment. Then it was over. She was gone.

Days of grief immediately followed. Friends tried to say the right words. Hugs were given generously. Everything helped, but they couldn’t fill void in my soul. I tried pep talks to convince myself that it was all for the best and so on and so on. I missed my dog and that was it.
One noon, a few days after her death, I was walking on the streets of Tavistock. I paused to look into a florist’s window, then I saw it – my reflection. What followed though were the thoughts that turned my tears of sorrow into joy.

Like the reflection in a mirror or glass, death is the reflection of life. The greater the love you felt, the greater the grief. There are people who die every day that I feel no grief for. However, my dear Sarah’s death created a deep and profound sorrow. However, it was only so deep and profound because our love for each other had been so deep and profound, too. The sorrow was a mere reflection of the joy we shared. What a precious thought. It allowed me to cope with my emotions. Every time I experienced the pain, I remembered that it was a mere reflection of the love and a reminder that it still existed. Although no longer with me, Sarah’s love was.
Then came the question. It changed the tears into sobs of joy.

The question? Would I take away any of the precious moments we shared to lessen the sorrow I was experiencing now? The answer was an emphatic NO! As much as I mourned the loss of a great friend, there is no way I would have taken anything away from our experience together. The result was that I embraced the emotions instead of trying to explain them away or rationalize them. Embracing them meant that I could deal with them effectively, since I wasn’t trying to avoid them or push them away.

Many of you, I’m sure, are going through grief from the death of a loved one. No matter how great the pain may be, if you wouldn’t change anything from your life with your loved one to lessen it, you know that you have had a very special relationship with somebody – something that many long for and never experience. When the sorrow comes, remember it as a mere reflection of the love you once shared, and a reminder that it has not gone away.