My_Way

Photo:Keith_Johnston/Pixabay

As humans, we all like to do things in our own particular way. This may be tempered by being left or right handed, tall or short, or unable to do things in multiple ways. There is a comfort to this for all of us. So when we are challenged by a parent, a spouse, a teacher, or a coach to learn a ‘new’ way of doing things, we sometimes don’t see the reason we should change. ‘Why? This is working perfectly well for me,’ is a common response. What we don’t often see is the necessity of making something better, yet as both artist and sculpture, it is difficult to admit—to ourselves, largely—that other ways may, indeed, serve us better, particularly when we are working to make ourselves better.

As a result of not being able to see ourselves in any kind of neutral way, we go through life doing things and making decisions based on what we know, what we have experienced, tempered with our triumphs, our fears, and our doubts. When we look around and see others doing things in a particular way, there is a tendency to imitate what we have seen modeled for us, even if it doesn’t quite work the way we think it should. We know when we make mistakes, and it’s never a good feeling admitting such, yet it is the best thing we can do. As Einstein is famous for saying that he didn’t fail, but that he just found 1,000 ways NOT to make a lightbulb. For most of us, this is not comforting, but leaves us feeling sheepish, not to have seen the errors in our thoughts. 

We all do this, yet as small children, we were not born with the innate ability to walk, run, talk, or sing, yet the mistakes we made while learning to do so, were, indeed, simply one particular way NOT to do something. We go on to talk, sing, walk, run, and do all sorts of wonderful things that bring pleasure to our lives and let us enjoy our lives. As a junior tennis player, I had a coach who thought a particular way to serve might be better for me, given my strength, my height, and my playing style, and so when she suggested that I learn the new motion, I jumped on the idea, and with many errant balls not going in any direction I wanted them to go, I finally caught on to how my body went through the motions of this new serve, practicing—in frustration or triumph—and one day I was amazed to see the ball go precisely where I wanted it to go, and I had a new serve in my game. Not letting go of the old motion or refusing to try a new one would have simply left me where I was, which was not a bad thing in particular, but without doing that I would never have learned ‘what I was missing.’

My way. It works for me. And when it ceases to ‘work’ it’s time to let go of ‘my way’ and find another. The journey to that new place may be frustrating, or painful, but when I live my life seeking the Truth—my truth as well as the truth of others—I am able to see other horizons I might have missed…sticking with the tried-and-true.