If your future self could send you one sentence, what do you hope it would say?
I would hope that I could look back on my life and say, “You made a difference.”
Many people spend their lives trying to obtain some sort of wealth and so-called success. But what is wealth? What is success?
E told me that her sister, S, was visiting. S, who had no grandchildren, looked around at E’s photos of her grandchildren and said, “I may have money. But your wealth is in these photos.”
Real wealth and real success are in the difference we make in the lives of others.
I have recently become fascinated by the number of people who believe that the world revolves around them.
I’m all for encouraging others to feel good about themselves, and I don’t disagree with trying to engender positivity. I like the concept of helping everyone to build self-esteem.
Yet it seems to me that the current “accept everything” model, together with the idea that it’s not right (not acceptable in a world that accepts everything?) to tell a child that they are in the wrong, is building a world full of selfish entitlement. It’s my way, or no way.
For example, you make arrangements to catch a specific train. That requires you to leave the house by a specific time so as to get to the station on time. Yet the attitude seems to be, “Well the train will just have to wait for me!”
I’m sorry, but when did your entitlement to be late overrule everyone else’s entitlement to be punctual?
Interestingly, such people will often make a major issue over your relaxed arrangements. This is a wonderful experience to behold.
“What time are we leaving?”
“After breakfast.”
“So what time is that?”
“Between 9.00 and 10.00.”
“Can’t you be more specific?”
“Not really. It depends on how long it takes everyone to get ready. But as long as we leave by 10.00 we’ll be fine.”
“So 10.00, then.”
“No. Between 9.00 and 10.00; when we are all ready. But definitely before 10.00 so that we miss the traffic.”
Then the fun starts. Breakfast over, you say:
“Is everyone ready to leave, then?”
“No. I have to get dressed”
“Go on, then. But don’t take too long. You have 15 minutes.”
Twenty minutes later, at 10.05 you go to check.
“Not dressed, yet? We’re going to be late and we’ll get caught in the traffic and miss the train.”
“Well, they’ll just have to wait for me, won’t they. You’ll just have to drive faster.”
And this person who was simply going to die unless you gave them a specific time now holds everything up, expecting everyone else’s life to revolve around him. (Or her.)
It’s one of the hazards of shielding children from the consequences of their actions, or covering for them, getting them out of trouble. They grow up feeling that they are the most important person in the world, and that leads to the same attitude as they age.
The reality is that we are not the most important persons in the world. The only way to be special is to treat everyone else as more special than you. But when we shield people, including children, from the consequences of their actions, we develop a thankless, heartless, entitled generation.
Next time you come across this attitude, whether in yourself or others, resolve, not to shield the perpetrator from the consequences, but to enforce those consequences with all your might. (As long as it’s safe to do so, of course!)
“Yes. I know you wanted to go to the park. And I know I said that we would go as soon as you’re dressed. But, look. The park gates are locked for the night because you took so long to get dressed.”
Be prepared, however, to suffer your own consequences:
“Well if you had told me to get dressed earlier we wouldn’t have been late!”
I know. It seems like you can’t win. But do this enough times and the message will start getting through.
Respect and dignity require mutual consideration, not insistence on our rights, regardless of the consequences to other people.
It would be easy to settle back after the years of schooling and simply drift through life relying on the knowledge we gained. Or would it?
Let’s face it, we all learn new things throughout our lives. Otherwise we would never manage. For many retired people that would mean still doing things the way we did them 50 years ago. And for most of us, that doesn’t happen.
But that’s not what this question is about, is it. This is about learning, not just new skills for everyday life like how to use a microwave, or a web-connected dishwasher. This is about new subjects. This is about new careers, even.
What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?
Wanting to be perfect is not a bad thing. It helps us to always strive for improvement. But we still need to remember that we’re not perfect. We are going to get it wrong at times.
I used to worry about this. I wanted everything I did to be perfect, mainly because nothing I did ever seemed to please others. This was coupled with the common fallacy, “Good enough, isn’t (good enough).”
Then I came across two concepts that made me think.
The first was a building drawing for the carpenters. Having gone to great lengths to specify proper dimensions the architect’s drawing pointed to one piece of timber with the dimension, “Fit on site.” The exact dimension was to be adjusted by the carpenter, depending on what had been done previously, because building with bricks and mortar isn’t an exact, or perfect, science.
The second concept was the Pareto principle. 80% of the results come from 20% of the work. It means that we could be spending most of our time achieving very little.
And then it struck me. Just because we like consistency, it isn’t always necessary. Otherwise we would all look and act and speak the same. We would be robots. But what’s attractive about humans is the differences between us. We love those differences. We love not being perfect replicas of each other.
And suddenly, perfection didn’t matter so much any more. As someone pointed out to me, decades ago, a shirt that’s a perfect fit for one person will not fit someone bigger or smaller. Perfection is relative.
And now, I don’t worry about it any more. Yes, my perfectionist tendencies still make me feel bad, sometimes, especially in the face of negative criticism. But I’ve learned to take a step back and challenge my perfectionism. And it doesn’t worry me so much anymore.
