Author: Don McMinn

Several months ago, Mary and I were in Santiago Chili, where we met an intriguing middle-aged woman at dinner. She had just hiked through the Atacama Desert (a barren, desert plateau located off the Pacific coast of South America). She had a local guide for much of the excursion, but at times she was alone.

We were intrigued by her courage and zest for life. She has climbed mountains in Nepal, trekked through the Amazon Rain Forest, and crossed the Sahara. Every year, she uses her vacation time to explore exotic areas of the world.

When asked why she so aggressively pursues remarkable and difficult goals, she replied “Someday, I won’t be able to do things like this. But today is not that day.”

What a great thought. What a great attitude that prompts us to live an aggressive, fulfilling, and engaged life. This phrase is now etched in my mind and motivates me to carry on and keep my hand on the plow.

We’ve all heard cliches like “you only live once” or “your life is not a dress rehearsal so live it to the fullest.” They may be tired, overused phrases, but they’re true and should motivate us to live life to its fullest. 

Every day we’re getting older and one day we will die. So squeeze everything you can from each day. Identify those things you’ve always longed to do and do them. 

This couple waited too long 🙂

Have you ever met someone who is quick to give his opinion about how things should be done but doesn’t accomplish much himself? The bystander. The critic. Present but uninvolved. Passive but opinionated. Occasionally, his input may be beneficial, but I prefer the thoughts of people who are fully engaged in the process they’re commenting on, or at least fully engaged in something.

I do enjoy and see the benefit of, getting multiple inputs and opinions. One of my favorite leadership thoughts is “All of us are smarter than one of us.” Getting input from a lot of people on any idea or plan will improve it. But good input usually comes from engaged, active people — those who have earned a place in the conversation through involvement.

In a speech titled Man in the Arena, Theodore Roosevelt spoke of the importance of individual responsibility and involvement: 

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

[For a unique and interesting commentary on Roosevelt’s full speech, read Michael Cullinane’s article What celebrities get wrong about a famous Teddy Roosevelt Speech. ]

What beauty are we blind to? — Toby Ord

Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town (for which he won a Pulitzer Prize), is about life in Grover’s Corners, a small town in New Hampshire. One of the main characters is Emily Webb. The play follows her from a precocious young girl through her wedding to George Gibbs, and her early death.

In act three, Emily returns from the afterlife and visits her hometown, wanting to relive one day—her 12th birthday. She joyfully watches her parents and some of the people of her childhood, but her joy soon turns to pain as she realizes how little people appreciate the simple joys of life. She realizes how every moment of life—particularly the small, simple, mundane aspects—should be treasured. 

When she visits her grave on the hill, she says, “Good-by, good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners…Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking…and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.” 

She then looks toward the stage manager and asks abruptly, through her tears, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute” The stage manager replies, “No. The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.” The play ends.

I’m admonishing myself in this post. I like to stay busy: I always have a to-do list, I’m goal-oriented, I don’t like to waste time, and I’m inordinately time-sensitive. But I’m probably missing out on a lot of wonderful things in life. I need to recalibrate my life so that I notice and savor small, slow, and simple things that don’t cry out for my attention but will reward it. 

Things like: Buddy’s bark, Benjamin’s freckles, a perfectly shaped cluster of grapes, a well-tuned chord, holding Mary’s hand, a fresh blackberry, a perfectly still lake, a well-written phrase, a kind gesture, growing a plant from seed, the sound of thunder in the distance, the smell of a sliced lemon, gravity exerting its influence on a tomato plant.

Psychologist Carl Rogers noted, “The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction, not a destination.” He advocated launching “fully into the stream of life.” Our lives will be richer if we embrace adjectives such as enriching, rewarding, awe-inspiring, meaningful, and yes—small, slow, and simple.

In his must-read book, How to Know a Person, New York Times journalist David Brooks warns about having a static mindset toward people. He writes, “Some people formed a certain conception of you, one that may even have been largely accurate at some point in time. But then you grew up. You changed profoundly. And those people never updated their models to see you now for who you really are.”

I recently conversed with a colleague I had not talked to in 30 years. Years ago, because of my own insecurities and professional competitiveness, I had pre-judged him—thinking him to be aloof and condescending—and that initial impression had endured through the decades. In our recent conversation, I found him to be approachable, generous, and engaging. I misjudged him in those early years but I also sensed that time has mellowed both of us. I look forward to pursuing our friendship.  

I wonder what he has thought of me through the years.

People change, so we should adopt a flexible mindset that allows us to recalibrate our opinions about them. I am not the same person I was several years ago and neither are you. Hopefully we have all changed for the better. 

Updating our perceptions is a grace we extend to other people, and we hope they do the same for us.  

So when you reengage with someone from the past, assume that time and life has worn down the rough edges of their persona and they have grown and matured.