Donna arrived early at the Doctor’s office with Betty, her friend, nervous about whether she would find the building, having never been in that part of town before. It made her nervous to go there because the area had the reputation of being a hot bed of gang activity. Every time she watched the news there was a report of a shooting or a drug bust or something like that in among the apartments. liquor stores and convenience stores that dotted the area.
Chapter Two
She almost backed out of going to the appointment but her friend really needed a ride and she had already backed out of helping her out earlier in the month. She didn’t really like Betty very much because she was so needy. It was always about her and her needs, never about anyone else. It irked her because she herself was needy and wouldn’t have minded a little attention being paid to her once in a while. Her husband gave her no attention unless it was as a prelude to sex. Even that attention dissolved as soon as her husband ejaculated, which usually took about 30 seconds (yes, she counted). Her kids gave her no attention, but that didn’t really bother her. She understood they were just being self-consumed teenagers. Her boss gave her no attention, which she liked for the most part. He left her alone to do her job and she did it well. She did wish for some recognition every now and then but she could live without it.
Chapter Three
She was waiting for Betty to be done when she noticed a man sitting across the aisle from her. He was older, maybe just a tad overweight, with a nice hat. He had a small book he was writing in. She wondered what he was writing about. She was reading an essay on immigration from The Atlantic Monthly on her phone and didn’t pay much attention to him. After she finished she looked up and saw him looking at her. He wasn’t looking directly at her, but at her shoes. She looked away but looked back quickly to see him looking down at his journal. He looked back up at her again, but once again, he wasn’t looking at her face, but lower. This time he seemed to be looking at her legs. She then realized he was not writing in a journal, he was drawing in a sketchbook. And he was drawing her.
Chapter Four
This made her self-conscious. She started wondering how she looked. Was her hair in place? Was she color coordinated? Then she realized her shirt was open, showing her tank top underneath. She hoped it wasn’t too low. She was always trying to find that proper line between showing off her girls just a bit (since she did like how they looked and was proud that while her friends had to have help from their favorite plastic surgeon to get theirs to look that good, hers were God given) and not wanting to look like a hootchie mama letting them all hang out.
As she looked down to check herself out she realized crumbs from the granola bar she was snacking on at landed on her chest. Should she wipe them off? They would go down into her bra if she did that, but at least she could do it quickly and quietly. Or should she pick them off like she usually would do if she were alone, not being watched? They wouldn’t get stuck in her bra that way, but she would be doing something much more conspicuous. She chose to quickly wipe them down into her bra. The man was looking down when she did it so she didn’t think he noticed.
Chapter Five
Knowing someone was drawing her also made her happy. She liked the attention, liked being looked at. It reminded her of the early days of her marriage when she would catch her husband looking at her when they went out somewhere. He always liked her face and figure, complimenting both frequently, and expressing physically that it was sometimes more than just admiration of her beauty. He had been quite the driven lover back in the early days. Those days weren’t nearly as frequent anymore, and she had accepted that as part of being in a longer marriage and in getting older.
But that didn’t mean she liked it. She felt a little thrill whenever she realized someone was admiring her, even if it wasn’t that frequent. There was a rush she felt when it happened and she was feeling that now. She wondered if her neck and chest were turning red, which it did when she felt that way. She hoped not, but then again she sort of liked that she had a signal from her body about what was happening inside show on the outside.
Having this feeling happen so randomly brought up all sort of emotions about her marriage, about her self-worth, about her compromises with family and friends (Betty being a perfect example). A switch flipped in her head and she decided she had had enough. It was a most unexpected epiphany out of the blue.
Chapter Six
She was looking down at her phone when a pair of running shoes appeared on the floor in front of her. She looked up to see the man smiling at her, about to speak. He said, “Hi, sorry to interrupt you. My wife just buzzed me to come into the Doctor’s office so I have to go but I wanted to show you the drawing I have been doing of you before I did.”
Donna looked at the drawing. It was of her with her head down looking at her phone. Her legs were crossed and sure enough, her shirt was open and a bit of cleavage was showing. She was glad it didn’t look too low. She looked up, smiled and said, “I was wondering what you were doing. At first I thought you were writing in a journal then I saw you looking at me and figured out that you were drawing. You caught me pretty good I think, thank you.”
He said, “No, thank you. I loved how still you sat, made it easy to draw you. You didn’t even uncross and recross your legs the other way, which is often what happens. Anyway, I have to go but here is my card. If you want me to send you a photo of the drawing now and when it is finished, just email me so I have your address and I will do it, ok?”
She took the card and said, “Yes, I will be sure to do that. Thank you.”
Epilogue
After she got home she went to her office and wrote out a plan. A year later she was divorced. She moved to the city she had always wanted to live in, San Francisco. She even moved to a somewhat scary part of town so she could get a good deal on a fixer-upper. She was renovating it herself. She went back to school, this time not to be an assistant to someone but to be an actual scientist, which had been her dream. She heard from Betty once in a while but no longer felt responsible for trying to solve her problems.
Four years later she emailed the man who had drawn her, asking if she could see the drawing. He sent her the finished version. She asked if he would accept a commission to do a large painted version of the drawing. He agreed and 6 months later she had it over her mantle in her remodeled home. She also bought the drawing and had it in her bedroom.
When friends came to visit they often remarked about the simple ‘slice of life, small moment in time’ feel the painting had. They liked that about it. She would smile and agree, all the while knowing not all moments in time are equal.
Have you ever started something and not finished it? Of course you have. We all have. Granted, some more than others. I am probably in the middle of the pack. I finish a lot but then again there is plenty I don’t finish. Most of what I don’t finish doesn’t ever get beyond the idea stage. If you are like me, even a little bit, the enthusiasm hits hard but implementation fails as the enthusiasm wanes.
Far is Easy
The goal is always so glorious, isn’t it? We all imagine the feeling of winning, or publishing, or fame, or wealth, or a secure relationship. It’s easy to imagine that joy. It’s easy to say you want that happiness. It’s easy to say you are going to do the work to get that wealth. But imagination and saying something aren’t what makes it happen.
In Between is Hard
So how do you keep going during those long stretches where the enthusiasm has waned, the money has drained and the relationship has pained? Of course you need to have that goal in mind. You have to have hope that you can reach it. But it is more than that. The truth is you aren’t always doing something for the feeling it gives you at the moment. You are living through that feeling so that you will reach a finish line where great feelings and great achievements will come to fruition. It might be a book you write, it might be a painting you paint, it might be a relationship you develop.
Making Hard Easy
You can’t make hard easy. But you can make it easier. You make it easier by practicing habits. The habit of getting up every morning and doing 10 push ups will make getting in shape easier, no matter how hard it is. The practice of writing that email to a business connection each morning will make the hard work of networking easier, no matter how hard it is. The practice of saying (and meaning) something loving and kind to your relationship partner each morning will make it easier to build the relationship, no matter how hard it is.
In other words, you aren’t trying to make something hard into something easy. You are trying to make it easier to do something hard. Making a habit of the things that help you along that path is one way to do that.
I had just finished with a dentist appointment and came here for lunch.
Chapter One
They were outside on the patio and I sat where I could draw them. I ate and drew at the same time. After a while the woman facing me realized I was drawing her. She leaned over to say something to her friend. I continued to draw until they were about to leave. I stood and walked over to them. I held up the drawing to the woman facing me and showed it to her. She said she noticed me looking at them and wondered what I was doing. I explained who I was and what I was doing. She said she really liked it. I showed it to the other woman and she said the same thing. I told her she could see it finished at my website or if she prefer I would send her the image via email when I was done with it. I gave her my card and she gave me her email address. I said goodbye and went back to finish my lunch.
Chapter Two
It has taken me about a month, maybe more, to paint and finish the drawing. Now I am about to publish it and send her the image and the link. Will I get a response? What do you think she will say and think about it?
I wonder, if closets could think, what would they say? Do you think they would be as indecisive as many woman (and men) are in deciding what to wear? Do you think they would make emotional decisions, or maybe aesthetic ones? Would they be practical, or maybe purposefully reactionary? Would they dress you with nostalgia in mind or maybe with an eye to impress the world. Would they fight you?
The Naked Human
Closets can’t think. But the idea is interesting because it illustrates so many of the reasons we dress. And for many of us, our possibilities are wider than they were 50 years ago. My father was going to wear a suit and tie to work, no discussion about it. For a night out my mother would wear a dress, no real consideration went into wearing pants. That just wasn’t going to happen. Even a trip to the market was cause to dress up, at least a little bit.
But now work clothes can, in many cases, be casual clothes. They can be fitness clothes even. And clothing designated for going out to a nice dinner can range from t-shirts (for either sex) all the way to a dress and suit and tie. That same market shopping trip? Now it can be done in pajamas.
The freedom make our choices harder, not easier. With all that freedom we have a lot more to choose from in every case.
Sort of dresser
What sort of dresser are you? Do you dress emotionally, practically, aesthetically, or maybe nostalgically?
I know there are many in the US who do live on the edge of tragedy most every day. But I don’t think I am ignoring or diminishing their plight to say that overall we are blessed to be safe, secure and sustained at a level that exceeds most of the world. I am grateful for that and don’t take it for granted.
What more needs to be said? Oh, I know. To make sure I am not doing this I remember it’s not about looking at others and saying, “They are the ones who think alike.” It about looking in the mirror and saying it.
I believe in good political correctness. That doesn’t mean I believe people shouldn’t be free to say what they think. It means I believe that if a group of people say they are offended by something then I am going to take a look at it. If I can be more respectful of my fellow citizens then I am going to be. If African Americans are offended by the Confederate flag being flown, I am all for having it taken down. Why? Because my fellow citizens don’t deserve to be offended on purpose.
The Bad PC
I do not believe in bad political correctness. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in being sensitive and respectful, I do. What it means is I believe people can hold an opinion that is in the minority and not also be an evil or bad person. I will not condemn them for holding an opinion I do not agree with. If the circumstances are right, I will disagree with them and argue as persuasively as I can against their opinion. But I am not going to declare they are ineligible for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness because of it. They also are not ineligible for making a living, having a family, being accepted into society.
Limits
There are limits to that position. For example, if a teacher does not believe the Holocaust occurred and tries to teach it to my children, I will do everything I can to have them removed. They are still free of course to believe it, but I am not willingly going to allow them influence over my children. But as I argue against them being employed by the school district I will still use good manners and treat them with civility.
Manners and Grace
Every person has an opinion you disagree with. The friend you invite into your home should be known to not be a terrorist, I agree. But they can’t be vetted for every possible disagreeable position they hold before you invite them in. If they were vetted in such a way, guess what? They won’t accept your invitation to visit because they will see you as a self-righteous, judgmental jerk, which is what you will have proven yourself to be.
Those in red have been directly attacked by ISIS. Those in white have had natural disasters befall them in 2015. Those in Blue have ongoing warfare happening.
Are there more to add to the list? Sadly, yes.
Some of you want to pray, then pray. Some of you want to donate, then donate. Some of you want to publicize and gather support, then do that.
But whatever you do, and for whomever you do it, do it with love. Because there is no use in overcoming hate, hurt or hazards if love is not what remains standing.
Why would endurance be associated with heroism? Maybe it can’t be understood unless we think about the opposite. Maybe it’s because giving up is so well understood as being the antithesis of heroism.
That would explain why we call people sports heroes. The push beyond what we think we could do. They endure longer and that endurance leads to the final run, the last leap, the improbable score.
The Rest of Us
So, how does that translate for us, the non-sports hero?
I see it in my wife, when she was a single mom. She went back to college, in spite of the hardship and got her degree. She had to make a decision to struggle and persevere instead of saying it’s going to be too hard and giving up. She endured and made a great life for her daughter as a result. She is a hero to me.
I see it in one of the runners I coach. She is the slowest of all our runners. It can be frustrating for her coach and for her. But she has chosen to keep at it no matter what. And as a result she is going to cross the finish line in a half marathon in less than a month. She is a hero to me.
I see it in my friend Lindsay who has Lupus. She has excruciating episodes where her body rebels against her in dumbfounding ways, blowing her face up into a balloon, making her unable to walk, or just putting her into terrible pain. But in the midst of all that she is planning her wedding and continuing to work every day. She is also continuing to show off on Facebook and elsewhere the most original and unique sense of humor that is both self-deprecating and uplifting, insightful and poignant. She is a hero to me.
Encourage Enduring
And that is what we all hope for other people, right? That they will find the will or ability to endure and accomplish their goals. Encouraging people to be heroes is a good thing.
Did you ever run away from home as a child? It took some planning and some guts, didn’t it. You probably got no further than half way down the block or more than a few hundred yards behind you home in the woods before you turned around or were found by one of your parents. But for most of us we actually never did get to the point of actually running away. We thought about it, we maybe even planned it, but we didn’t do it. Why not? Because we were afraid. We were afraid of danger and the unknown, afraid of starving or getting lost, afraid of not having any help and afraid of hurting those we left behind, especially if we had brothers or sisters younger than we were.
Run Away Adult
I remember my ex-wife at one point in our final throes of divorce saying there had been many times during our marriage she just wanted to run away. Just have it all be gone, have me gone. I have heard many other women since then say the same thing, and I have seen even more people say it on Facebook or Twitter. They say it with humor, but underneath they are serious in their desire to escape.
Why don’t they run away? In many ways the reasons are the same as for kids. They are afraid of danger, the unknown, starvation, getting lost, not having support or help, and abandoning those left behind. Hopefully for an adult the last item on the list is much more important. It is no longer about just what the person running away wants, it’s about the responsibility one has to those still remaining. The children who don’t deserve to be abandoned, the home, the neighbors, the family, the friends, the work, whatever it is. There is a feeling of obligation – I have to face my worries, my fears, my burdens and work through them the best I can.
In the end, that is what makes a soldier a true military hero, and it is what makes a parent an everyday hero.
I sometimes forget to post my photography here, thinking it’s only about the drawings. But I like showing you the other aspects of my creative exploration and I think this is a particularly interesting series I have embarked on.
Starting with a photograph (sometimes one I or someone else has taken, sometimes a screenshot from Periscope) I layer line drawing, color and original photograph. I use my finger and work in layers to create the effect I want. Most of these have been done in bed before I go to sleep.
When I was 13 I had just moved to a new town all the way across the country. My first day of Junior High I saw her. The most beautiful girl in school. She was a vision, a beauty, a mystery. I had a crush on her from 7th to 9th grade. I had recurring dream during that time of us being in a bus crash and me being the hero that saved her and helped her afterwards. I thought that is what it would have taken to get her to admire me, to look up to me, to fall in love with me. That is what being a hero meant to me.
Small Hero
Fast forward many decades. Facebook is reconnecting everyone from back in the day. And who should eventually be on it but her. I friend her, she friends me, but she isn’t on very often and we don’t actually talk or connect until one day I posted something about me participating in a control study for the aviation industry. I had to stay for 20 hours in a hyperbaric chamber as part of a test.
She saw my post and wrote to me asking me if I could connect her with the director of the organization I did the study with because she was writing an article on that topic. And so I made the introduction and she got her interview. She was very appreciative.
Practice Heroism
That is what being a hero means to me now. And that means I have moved from the fantasy, extraordinary effort definition of heroism to the real life, helping people definition. That doesn’t mean the first definition doesn’t exist, it does and is extraordinary. But most of daily life is not in that realm. If we wait for the extraordinary event for us to exhibit effort on behalf of another then we have no heroic muscle memory. Heroism is made up of thousands of small acts of kindness and love. Those are the practice runs that allow you to complete the race when it arrives.
They sat attentive, leaning forward, interested in what one another had to say. The coffee shop buzzed with noise around them but they were not distracted. I sat in the corner and drew.
The woman facing me had a green sweatshirt on with the logo of ‘New Life Ranch’ on the front. I knew the place well. It was a summer camp in Oklahoma, near the Arkansas border, and my daughters had gone there a number of times. We even went there for family camp twice.
It was the place I took two of the best photographs of my life. Both were of the creek that ran through the camp, early on a fog enshrouded morning. One was just the creek, but the other was of my youngest daughter reaching for a rope swing so she could swing and drop into the creek. We had heard the night before that there would be a sunrise swim in the creek. Chelsea wanted to go so we got up very early and I accompanied her to meet the others. I remember sitting with her on this little bench waiting for everyone else, talking about how exciting it was going to be to jump in the cold creek. No one else showed up. We decided they were all wimps and she was the most courageous of them all. She still wanted to do it so I took photos as she took the plunge.
Unfortunately, so far I have not been able to find the shot of her. I am still looking!
If you watch a baseball game, like I did last night as the Kansas City Royals won the World Series over the New York Mets, there is usually a ‘hero’ that stands out. He may score the winning run or perhaps he strikes out the side. However, without exception, if you hear an interview with that person after the game is won, he will say it was a team effort. He may say, “Yes, I had my good stuff on the pitching mound today.” But it’s also likely they will say a lot more along the lines of, “I was just trying to contribute to the team.”
The Servant
That got me thinking, what is it they are really wanting to do? They are wanting to serve their team. Yes, they probably like the glory of exalted newspaper accounts and TV reporting. But it’s their teammates who are actually counting on them and it’s into that locker room full of teammates that he must go after the game. If a player is too consumed with surpassing personal records and getting personal glory instead of serving the greater good, they will not be liked or respected in that locker room.
Walks of Life
Combat – It’s often said that the soldiers immediate mindset is to serve and protect his or her fellow soldiers, not to fight for glory or some abstract cause.
Family – Mothers and fathers are not vying for an actual ‘Parent of the Year’ trophy. They simply serving their children as best they can.
Business – A superior, if he or she is good, is suppose to be serving you, not the other way around.
Community – Politicians and activists who are best at what they do are the ones who are working to serve the community.
Examples
What personal examples do you have of those who work to serve instead of surpass?
Some people are designated heroes just as one of a group of friends is deemed the designated driver at a party. The designated hero is labeled such and is expected to fulfill that role. It might be an Astronaut, the soldier, a politician, the athlete, a family member. It might be the survivor. Whoever he or she is, they are looked up to. The media tells stories about them. Books are written about them. Their deeds are exalted. They become icons and are enshrined. We all know about them.
Not Designated
But for every designated hero that is looked up to, there is somebody else looking at those looking at the person looking at the hero. The teacher who is pointing to the famous artist is himself being pointed at by her student. The beginning pilot who is pointing to the astronaut is herself being pointed at by a person with a model airplane in his hands. The young woman off in the wilds of Canada who is pointing at the world renowned inspirational speaker is herself being pointed at by the many who listen to her modest broadcasts. The small business owner pointing to the CEO of the major corporation is himself being pointed at by his inspired daughter.
You
Now, it could be that someone who is actually a world renowned hero is reading this. But the overwhelming probability is that you are not world renowned. You probably don’t see yourself as a hero. But you probably are. If you are a parent, you probably are. If you are a business owner, you probably are. If you are pursuing an athletic achievement at any level, you probably are. If you are a policeman, fireman, soldier, you definitely are.
The Point
So, what’s the point? It’s not to give you permission to brag about something. It’s to give you permission to know that you are seen. You see heroes and look up to them, and that is good. And you are seen as well and it’s important to keep that in mind as you reach for your own goals in life.
Periscope
Here is the periscope video of me creating the drawing while viewers try to guess the quote. You can find me on Periscope as @thenapkindad.
As many of you know, I work at Fleet Feet in Tulsa, Oklahoma as a running coach. I have led the 10k & 15k training program called Pathways for 5 years now. This past week Deena Kastor, the Olympic Bronze Medalist in the 2004 Athens Olympics came to visit.
Deena’s Napkin
On Friday night we had a small get together of coaches and staff to meet her in an intimate setting at our downtown workout facility, 52 Fitness. We hung out with Deena listening to her tell stories ranging from her adventures at the highest level of sport to her love of her dog, a giant Mastiff, that runs with her (for short distances of course).
At one point she was going to excuse herself to go get something to eat but I offered to get it for her (Yes, I am a brown noser, so sue me). I brought back 2 napkins and left them on the table along side her chips and dip. A few minutes later someone asked her to autograph a cartoon a fellow runner had drawn with her in it and it reminded me…duh, I should do that too! I grabbed one of the napkins and one of the markers she was using to sign her name and did a quick drawing of her. She then graciously signed the napkin for me.
Deena’s Quote
I told her that usually in my napkin drawings I have a quote but in this case I would probably just have some runners behind her. Later in the evening she addressed the entire group. She told the story of how she has a big chalkboard in her home, one of the first things her friends and family see when they come in the door. She loves quotes and often has one on the board for inspiration. The one currently on her board she said was, “If the voices in your head say you can’t paint, then by all means paint, and those voices will be silent.” The quote is by Vincent Van Gogh. I wrote it down immediately knowing I had the quote I would use.
I talked a bit later to some other runners about the quote and we agreed that one can replace ‘paint’ with almost any other word in that quote and it would still make sense and still resonate with people. So I simply changed ‘paint’ to ‘run’ and knew what I would do.
The next morning she was at our South Tulsa store to run with one of the 1/2 marathon pace groups. She hung around after and signed autographs on a pretty cool small poster of her.
I was able to snag a pic with her.
The Olympics
I knew she had won the Bronze medal at the 2004 Olympics. However, I did not know the story of how she did it until I watched this video. Take a look and be impressed by not just her guts and hard work, but the intelligent race strategy that she used to make it happen. Oh, and did I mention it was 100º at the start of the race? ONE HUNDRED DEGREES.
What was her strategy? Something I preach to my runners, discipline. She was as far back as 18th, running a conservative race, biding her time, waiting until she thought she could move up in pace without breaking down at the end. Slowly but surely she picked off one runner after another over the course of the last third of the race. Watch the video to see what she had to do to pass the 3rd place person and win the bronze medal.
In addition to the amazing Olympic finish she just recently smashed the women’s world record for a US Master (over 40) at the 2015 Chicago Marathon.
Act On It
So, if you think you can’t do something, do what the quote suggests. It doesn’t matter if it’s running, painting, spelunking or something else. Take action, start your move towards your goal and that voice saying you can’t will be silent.
It didn’t start with Disney of course, but Disney certainly popularized it for those of raised in the 20th and beginning of the 21st century. The idea that in a story about good vs evil you must visualize the good as having traditional beauty and the evil as having traditional ugliness. And it’s easy to understand the desire to have it that way. It makes understanding good and evil simple since all you have to do is search for outer beauty and you find the good and same for the opposite.
Shrek
And then came Fiona. Fiona and Shrek turned the beauty equals goodness idea on it’s head. One message that it sent, a message you hear often is, that true beauty isn’t on the outside, it’s on the inside. But there was a more important message that it sent. And that is that beauty is not universal. Shrek didn’t find the ‘human’ Fiona all that pretty.
But when the curse was broken and she turned back into what she had been, a female ogre, Shrek suddenly saw beauty. His kind of beauty. She she saw it in him as well. Both lessons are important to learn.
Inner Beauty
Yes, the cliche is true. Inner beauty matters. And yes, who you are on the inside is what decides your goodness, not your outer beauty.
Outer Beauty
HOWEVER, we do have an outer. Outer, in spite of what so many would like to believe, not only exists, but matters when discussing beauty. Our eyes are not dismissible any more than our other senses. Nobody says what we smell doesn’t matter and nobody says what we hear doesn’t matter. Those things do matter. And what we see matters as well. Having a personal sense of what you find beautiful is not a bad thing, whether looking at a sunset or a hunky fireman.
What is also true though is it is not ALL that matters. If you think and behave as if it does you will very likely end up shallow, egotistical and hurt.
The Inner and Outer Blend
You know how celebrity couples now have one name? Branjolie, Bennifer, Kimye. What would the world for Inner AND outer beauty couple be? Ounter? Inter? Ounner? Who knows. But there should be a word for it because it is what most of us want in our lives. We want to look good and we want to be good, right? We want our outer to be the outer visual expression of our inner. We know not everyone is going to find us attractive, but we would like someone to find us attractive. We know not everyone is going to believe we are good. But we want those who know us to believe we are.
How to?
So, how do we make that happen? It’s no different than anything else we hope to achieve. We practice. The bottom line is you will not become good without practicing being good and you will not have outer beauty without practicing having outer beauty.
If that means time in the gym to make your body what you want it to be, then that’s what you have to do. If it means time spent serving others, caring for those in need, giving your time and attention to others, then that’s what you have to do. And they aren’t exclusive. You can and should be your best inner self while at the gym and you can and should be your best outer self while serving others.
Matters Most
But which one matters most? The inner does. That is the one that transcends the outer. It is where kindness, forgiveness, patience, gentleness, sympathy, empathy, and love reside. Because it is true: Beautiful people are not always good, but good people are always beautiful.
I started this drawing with the idea that the grey woman would represent the person who did not know herself and this didn’t see herself as beautiful. But as soon as I started to draw the colorful woman I realized the mistake. BOTH women can know themselves and BOTH women can see their own beauty.
Bad Beauty, Bad.
I had a discussion last week with a photographer friend who posted a photo of herself relaxing in a hot tub after a very hard, emotional couple of days. It represented for her feeling relief and joy at making it through a bad time. She took it down because she was self-conscious, then she put it up again because she didn’t want to give in to her fear of what others would think. I told her I was happy she put it back up because it said she was confident and strong in her beauty and happiness. She asked, “But isn’t that wrong? I would never think I am better than anyone.”
It seemed to me she was equating her believing she was beautiful (looking good, in other words) with vanity, ego and superiority over others. My thought was that while being vain and egotistical about it is wrong, knowing you are beautiful does not necessarily mean you are vain or egotistical.
Good Beauty, Good
It isn’t you comparing yourself, it’s you enjoying who you are. It’s about joy and fun, not about judgment and comparing. It’s about allowing that you have a right to express all of you, that includes your beauty, sensuality, femininity, as well as your moods, mind, love, feelings, ideas, etc.
I don’t think recognizing and enjoying one’s own beauty is bad. What do you think?
A few weeks ago I got in a bit of a kerfuffle with some people on Facebook about a recent public event. I thought it was magnified beyond what it should have been, they disagreed. It made me start thinking about when it’s good, appropriate and helpful to magnify something and when it can be counterproductive.
I think we live in a world where being offended by something as our first public reaction is the norm. We don’t like what someone says or does and so we react strongly in public to it. We let everyone know we are offended. There are times when that is important. The offense is real, it is harmful and it is dangerous to you or the world around you.
But there are other times when it can be a very slight offense, one of opinion or outlook or action, that is taken out of context, out of it’s place and blown up into a big offense. Of course we all have different decision making methods by which we make that choice, but in my mind the rise of social media has blown up the offended first reaction into an crowd sourcing protest intent on inflicting pain, suffering or a moral lesson to someone. Maybe that feels good but, in my mind, it isn’t always the best tack to take. Is the goal to feel good or is the goal to get something good to happen? If it’s to feel good, then shaming someone is like fast food. It feeds you short-term but is it really building your body in any healthy way? If it’s to get something good to happen, shaming someone is very unlikely to be the best way to do that. Maybe talking to them, asking them more questions, getting to the heart of why they said what they said is the best way. Or at least the first step to take.
Maybe there won’t be a resolution you are happy with. You can always take the next step of going public at that point. But maybe you will have a resolution. Maybe the person who offended you will have a new understanding of what they did and how it affected you. Maybe they will be sorry and apologize. Maybe they will work to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
I am a big fan of compliments, both giving and receiving. I give them better than I take them, but I like getting them as well. When I give them I try to be specific. I won’t say someone is pretty, I will say I like their hair style, or their necklace, etc. Often it’s something I might notice that others don’t. An accessory, or a feature perhaps. I like pointing out something specific because I am hoping the compliment I give makes them feel good about choices they made, not just that they were born looking a certain way. And I feel good when a compliment I give makes someone feel great.
Enjoying and feeling good about a compliment is one thing. Feeling your self-worth is attached completely to the compliments is another. The last thing I want is for someone to depend on my compliments for their complete value or worth. First off, I don’t want that pressure, and secondly, it certainly isn’t healthy for the person getting the compliments.
Criticisms
I don’t like giving criticisms, especially if it’s about style or looks. I deliberately step back when I see someone who is jarring to my established notions and let the visuals sit with me for a while. I practice withholding judgment, in other words. This is true in anything sensory; smells, sights, hearing, etc. I like to live with it for a while. And I always try and remember I can view someone without judging them. I think of these sensory experiences as being part of the passing parade of life; something to be enjoyed, admired, explored. Not something I have to judge.
If I do criticize, I would be saying it hoping they gave it some value. But I certainly hope the person receiving it doesn’t automatically take it as gospel truth about themselves. Once again, that would be too much pressure on me and would certainly be unhealthy on the part of the person hearing the criticism.
Balance
I assume that, for the most part, compliments make people feel good and criticisms make them feel bad. That is normal and to be expected. But to get all your worth in life and to feel completely worthless in life due to them indicates an a skewed understanding of your own value.
How do you overcome that? It’s not easy but it is doable. You have to start with small steps. I have a friend, Victoria James, in England, who does a daily live video called #Mindflowers (you can find her as @victoriajamesUK on Periscope). The idea started with her feeling like she, and her friends, all gave compliments to each other a lot more than they give compliments to themselves. They would be much more likely to denigrate and dismiss themselves than say something nice. So she started a daily routine that she now shares around the world. She simply asks the people watching her video to give themselves a compliment every day.
That is how you can start.
Periscope
Here is my periscope video of the drawing being created.
And here is part 2 where I color the drawing and we talk more about this idea.
The Flying Coffee Cup – An Illustrated Short Story
Chapter One
Amanda had her resume laid out just right. She had her business card just so. She had her lucky necklace on and, embarrassing as it was, her lucky underwear too. She had her coffee ordered and picked up. She was ready for the interview.
He walked in with long strides, letting the door close on the woman coming in behind him. He went straight to the counter, stopping just short of running into the back of the man waiting to order. He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.
When it was his turn he said to the Barista, “Well, aren’t you cute. Aren’t you going to give me a smile?”
She looked at him and said, “This is my smile today, sorry. What can I get for you.”
“I want a very large cup of your strongest coffee, black.” he answered. When it was delivered by the Barista he said, “Thanks but it would have been nicer for me if you smiled.” He was not smiling as he said it.
Chapter Two
He came over the Amanda’s table and sat down. She put out her hand and said, “Hello Mr. Bendetto, I’m Amanda. It’s nice to meet you.”
He didn’t take her outstretched hand. He just nodded and said, “Let’s get started.”
He asked her a series of questions, all were short and curt. When he was done with the interview, which took all of 10 minutes he stood up and said, “I will let you know.”
She stood up and said, “Thank you. I will wait for your email.” She held out her hand to shake his.
He responded, “Honey, I don’t think you should hold your breath. I expect the job is harder than you can handle.” He walked away without saying goodbye or shaking her hand.
Chapter Three
Amanda was just about to start crying when her coffee cup raised up from the table. It had grown wings and was hovering in front of her. The lid came off partially and talked. It said, “You are more than he thinks you are.”
She stared as the coffee floated back down to the table as the wings disappeared, landing softly and not spilling any of itself. She looked up to see if any other person had witnessed it. It appeared no one had seen the coffee fly except the barista who had served the man his coffee. She was staring at Amanda with her eyes wide and her mouth open.
Amanda got up and walked over to the Barista. “Did you see that?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. And I heard what it said as well. How did that happen and why didn’t anyone else see it?”
Amanda said, “I have no idea. It was very strange. But it said the perfect thing to me, that’s all I know. What is your name?” She asked.
The Barista responded, “I’m Amanda. What’s yours?”
Amanda laughed, “That’s my name as well. Nice to meet you Amanda. I am sorry he was such a jerk to you, I heard him talking to you.”
“Yes, he was. Nice to meet you too Amanda. I overheard a bit of his conversation with you as well. He seemed rude to everyone.” Amanda the Barista said.
“Yep, he was a jerk to me. I was having a job interview with him but it didn’t take me long to realize, even though I am desperate for work, I wouldn’t work for him no matter what.” Said Amanda.
The Barista responded, “I am sorry you are in that situation, but I think you are right. I can’t imagine working for him! What sort of work are you looking for?”
“I’m a bookkeeper. I was helping to run my dad’s business but he sold it and retired recently so I am looking for something else. I just got a divorce so the pressure is on.”
“Oh, that sounds like pressure for sure. You know, you might want to talk to Sylvia, the owner here. Her son, John, has been doing the books but he is about to go to graduate school. I think she might be looking for someone.”
Chapter Four
A week later Amanda the bookkeeper had a new job. She had met with Sylvia the owner and they had gotten along great. The pay wasn’t quite as good as with her father’s business but it was not bad either. She knew she could make it with the salary and the hours.
On her first day she was going to meet with John, the current bookkeeper to start her training. But before he arrived she had to clean out an old desk to use as hers. It had office supplies and a disheveled pile of papers cluttering the drawers. She took them out and was figuring out what to do with them when one piece fell to the ground. She picked it up, turning it over to see if it had anything on the other side.
There, on the other side was a drawing of a coffee cup. A coffee cup with wings. She stared at it with her mouth open until she was interrupted by a male voice saying, “You better watch out, you might catch a fly with your mouth open that wide.” She looked up to see a young man, maybe 30 years old, handsome and with smiling eyes. He reached out his hand. “Hi Amanda, I am John. What’s so astounding?”
She blushed slightly, smiled and said, “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Sorry about that. I was looking at this.” She picked up the drawing of the flying coffee cup and showed it to him.
He said, “Oh, THAT’S where that drawing is. I have been wondering where it’s been for least a year or so. Was it in that pile of stuff?” pointing to the mess on the desk.
“Yes, it was. Did you draw it?” she asked.
“Yep, that’s by me. You can just call me Picasso, thank you very much!” he said as he laughed a big, hearty laugh.
“Ok, this is REALLY weird. I was looking at the drawing that way because I’ve seen it before.”
John looked puzzled. “How can that be?”
“I didn’t see this drawing. I saw the actual cup. It actually was my coffee cup last week. After the guy interviewing me left my cup grew wings and flew up to me and spoke. I know it sounds crazy but ask Amanda, she saw it too.”
John stared. It was his turn to have his mouth drop open. “Why is YOUR mouth catching flies now, if I may ask!” said Amanda with a laugh.
John fumbled a bit as he looked down at the drawing that was now in his hands. “You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Try me John.” she said. “After all, I just told you I saw a flying coffee cup.”
Chapter Five
“Ok, but it’s really strange.” he said. “I drew that about 7 years ago when I was 23. I think I even have a date on it, I drew it in April, right? I was just starting to help my mom here at the coffee shop and I had just left a long term relationship. I was stuck in the back of this office and I was feeling lonely and depressed. I drew this coffee cup that was sitting in front of me out of boredom one day. I left it on the desk and went out front to get some fresh air and something to eat. While I was out there I saw the most beautiful, sweet woman sitting at a table with a friend. I actually couldn’t see her very well, I was behind her. But I could see the side of her face and her smile and her beautiful brown hair. It was about the same length and style as yours I think only brown, not blonde. Anyway, she was showing off this incredibly unique diamond engagement ring to her friend. I had never seen anything like it. It was shiny and bright and she was beaming with joy.”
“I came back to the office and sat there wishing I had someone like her. I wished I had her actually. I sort of zoned out and started to draw wings and a mouth on the cup in the drawing as I imagined it flying out the talk to her. I wanted the cup to tell her she was making a mistake, that I was the right one for her. Of course I didn’t have any idea about who she was or what she was about. I didn’t really know if I was the right one for her. I was just wanting to be the right one for someone and I attached my dream to her at the moment.” He looked at Amanda with a look that said please don’t laugh at me.
“I often wonder what happened to her. I really do hope all went really well for her. It’s probably a blessing I didn’t see her face very clearly because if I had gotten a good look I probably would still be looking for her face in everyone I see.” He put the drawing down. “I told you it was a bizarre story.”
Amanda was crying. Big tears were rolling down her cheeks. “John? That woman was me. I was engaged 7 years ago in April and came here with my best friend to show her the ring. I had the same style hair, but then it was brown.”
John sat down. Amanda and John stared at each other for a long time without saying a word.
Epilogue
Amanda went home that afternoon, got the ring that afternoon and brought it back. It was the ring John remembered, very unique and shiny.
A year later John and Amanda were married. Amanda the Barista was a bridesmaid in a small ceremony at a beach about 100 miles away. John and the two Amandas opened a second coffee shop at the beach a year after that called ‘The Flying Cup’. They now have 24 shops at beaches around the world and are known for their story and their flying coffee cup logo.
They eventually sold their story to Universal pictures and it was made into a movie that did pretty well.
I recently did an ‘Absorbent Idea’ periscope on Beauty and Makeup. It was based on a series I did back in 2013. The conversation was so interesting I thought I would do a new series on Beauty. Let me know what you think!
So, one of the big things about outer beauty is the curse of comparison. How do you know who is and who is not beautiful if you aren’t comparing them, right? But comparing is wrong, isn’t it? Doesn’t that lead to feeling bad about yourself or judging others?
I actually say no, it doesn’t IF rightly understood. The word compare is neutral. It doesn’t have to assume judgment and condemnation, it can simply assume evaluation. ‘Her eyebrows arch high’. ‘Her highbrows don’t arch’. That is comparing and contrasting, not judging.
But you might say that is all fine and dandy but we know that judgment will naturally follow with a statement like, ‘I like arched eyebrows and I don’t like straight eyebrows.’ Isn’t that right? No, it isn’t right. There is no intrinsic reason you have to state a judgment or a preference after noticing a difference between two things. You can just notice and absorb while exploring and admiring both.
Competing
When the trouble starts is when the thought of competition comes in. That there is going to be a loser and a winner in beauty. That the purpose behind comparing is to compete. That there has to be a judgment that that ‘beauty’ is more beautiful than me. But think about a flower. Does a flower say it needs to look like a different type of flower to be beautiful? No, it doesn’t. It might compete for nutrients in the ground with another flower, but that is not about beauty, that is about survival. It isn’t trying to be judgmental or critical of the other flower. It is not saying that flower isn’t beautiful. It is simply doing what it needs to do to survive and thrive. It does it’s best to get everything it needs to be it’s best.
Your Beauty
If you do the same then you will always have your beauty. Your beauty will be genuinely yours. Not someone else’s, yours. Your style, your shine, your colors. And you won’t have to compete with anyone else for it.
