Weird Stuff Happens

Anomalies are events that depart from the norm--blindsiders and stunners that fall from the sky like a loose coconut. We ignore many anomalies, but others are so impactful that they knock us to the ground and leave us dazed. This morning I ran to the campus mini-observatory where earlier this year a poor graduate student was discovered dead, an apparent suicide. Premature death is anomalous in the most tragic way. I felt the tiniest trace of fear as I jogged around the isolated observatory; the fear was that I would see a dead body. My selfish concern was not for the imaginary dead person, but for myself--for the nonzero chance that I would have to deal with sudden emotional trauma. Anomalies, real and imaginary, can be intensely threatening, and so we sometimes try to avoid them or look past them: "That really didn't happen," we might say silently, and then move on. But what about good surprises, windfalls, blessings--even luck? Can't anomalies also present fantastic opportunities? Any given day can introduce a person, event, or insight that can transform us forever and for good. Sondre Lerch sings it happily, "Be prepared to be surprised!"

Twice As Slow

This morning while I ran through Uni Hills, my friend Wayne passed me. He was really cooking from my frame of reference. Going uphill, he moved twice as fast--or maybe neither of us was moving fast, but rather I was going a lot slower. Now I happen to know that Wayne and I are almost exactly the same age. We are similar in other ways: He is a professor and so am I. What then do I make of this morning's comparison? One persistent question for motivational psychologists is whether social comparison is helpful or harmful. In a previous post, I mentioned Kurt Lewin's discovery that performance in social contexts can surpass solo performance. When we compare ourselves with others, we sometimes raise our own expectations and aspirations. But social comparisons can also be discouraging and lead to the defeat of will or to a lowering of personal standards. Seeing Wayne pass me was slightly embarrassing but not really troubling. I'm building from where I am, basing my estimation of progress by my own prior baseline. I'm pretty sure Wayne does the same.

An Emotional Lie

Two days ago, I saw a movie on the airplane. At a particularly tense moment, the lead actor was affronted by a particularly callous question--one that was offensive to everything he loved and believed in. The question was legitimate in its own way--it had to be asked, but it hurt deeply. After a painful pause, the actor responded with a calm statement that answered the concerns of the person posing the question. In answering this way, the actor contained every sincere emotion. To answer this way was right: It was best for his children, his business, and even the greater societal good. And on a strictly rational plane he told the truth, but in telling it his true emotions were contained and concealed. Did the actor therefore tell an emotional lie? Our modern (or postmodern) sensibilities teach us that to emote feelings promotes mental health (because their expression is cathartic) and relational health (because communicating them is honest "sharing"). In the film, though, the scene was moving not because the actor expressed his true feelings, but because he suppressed them for the greater good. If he told a lie, it was a courageous lie, a loving lie, a beautiful lie.

Nature, Nurture, or Neither?

The forces that shape human behavior are classically divided into nature and nurture. Nature represents the genetic factors that shape the individual person. Many traits are correlated with genetics--most obviously physical appearance, but also intelligence and personality. DNA is not destiny, however. Experiential factors also shape human development. Nutrition, medical care, education, family dynamics, and culture each play a role in sculpting the individual. Which category, nature or nurture, is more potent? To some extent the answer depends on the trait. Height, for example, is strongly dictated by genes, but not completely. Many other traits, such as intelligence and personality, are affected as strongly by experiential factors as genetics. Nature and nurture seem to be fairly equally matched. But the two categories neglect a third factor that may tell us a great deal about human development, especially outstanding achievement. This is volition--more commonly called will--which is the ability to generate a goal and pursue it relentlessly. Layered on top of nature or nurture, volition works with potential to give birth to the actual. Volition, when played well, can trump its more well-known competitors. Will wins.

Surprise—It Worked

Today we filled a Dodge Caravan to capacity with books, clothing, and the varied accoutrements of a certain female college graduate—my daughter, Amy. How it came together was a study in complex problem solving. Let’s set aside the puzzle of planning the weekend and consider only today—specifically, getting all our stuff to the airport on time. The dimensions of each maximum capacity box could not exceed 62 inches, and the weight of each had to come as close as possible to 50 pounds without going over. We contained costs by mailing three boxes of books by U.S. Mail, which in turn meant locating a post office en route to the airport. Cost: $60. Savings: $240. When we reached O’Hare we checked the remaining nine 50-pounders at curbside, after which I dashed back to Alamo to return the rental car. The problem strands converged when we met up at Gate B-12 (though I had to carry Amy’s extra gear through security in a cheap sack with high heels protruding from the open top). The real-life problem complex we faced today is the kind that heightens alertness and blood adrenaline because the outcome is a tad uncertain. The surprising thing is that when together we faced our task with determination and a bit of good humor, it yielded.

Fluidity and Other Virtues

It's late. I'm constructing this post at 11 pm after a particularly fine day. My daughter, Amy, graduated from Wheaton College this afternoon, but the program stretched all day long: baccalaureate at 9 am, a fancy brunch at 12:30, commencement at 3, and dinner at 7. Interspersed were hugs, laughs, chit-chat, and photographs--even an impromptu clean up at Amy's old house on Blanchard Street. The day was momentous and beautiful, but really full. I was able to do my run this morning, but had to wake up early--6:30 am Central Time--to brave the brisk Chicago dawn. My path led past five lazybones Canada geese stomping around in front of the Sara Lee building, which is next door to the Doubletree where we are staying. I ran (early) and now I blog (late); the two commitments were fulfilled. Another commitment, far more important, was also met: I did my best today to be a good dad. In return, I enjoyed the flow of people and events immensely. This required not rigidity, but rather fluidity--listening, responding, going with the flow of events. To get the day right, I had to hold fast in some things, but let go in others. Rigidity/fluidity. If mixed well, the two can help compose a beautiful day.

Rigidity And Other Virtues

This morning I have an early morning flight, which meant I had to decide whether to get up extra early to run. I wasn't sure there would be time to exercise in Chicago after my plane landed, so I set my running gear out last night in anticipation of a pre-dawn run. I began my run just after 4 am, about an hour ago; University Hills was as dark and quiet as I've ever seen it. Only one vehicle, a truck, passed as I neared home again. Would it have hurt to skip a day? Why go to all the trouble when instead I could sleep a little longer? A 4 am run seems minimally eccentric, bordering on oddball. For me, the answer has something to do with momentum, an unbroken chain, and an agreement with myself. I suppose mixed in is a little fear that the chain, once broken, would be severed for good--or at least more susceptible to breakage in the coming weeks. Rigidity can be a virtue, however, and in fact may be necessary to reach those long-term goals that depart from the normal flow of social events. We must, somehow, stay true--even if it means looking rigid. Did I say rigid? I meant committed.