johnmaconline

When I was a little kid, I remember watching cliff divers on TV. ABC’s Wide World of Sports, if I remember correctly.

“That is the coolest thing anyone could ever do! I want to do that!”

The diver stands calm and stoic on the smallest of rock outcroppings. The camera (brilliantly) set up behind and above pans slowly, giving the viewer the perspective of nothing but the sunny, warm air and the blue water seemingly miles below. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, coils slightly, and launches into the great beyond, arms outstretched, body arched, legs together, and toes pointed. Two seconds or two minutes later, he breaks the plane of the beautiful blue water and disappears beneath, leaving no trace that he was ever there. The very definition of majestic. 

Well, my 8-year-old self had no idea that my 18+-year-old self would be wildly allergic to heights. Consequently, I’ve never cliff-dived from 60+ feet into the gleaming and warm Pacific like those majestic divers in Acapulco. I have, however, jumped from a 10m diving platform and 20-ish feet from the rocks along one of the local streams running in and around Warren, VT. 

In both cases, I was neither calm nor majestic. At the 10m board, I needed a physical push from a friend.

Sometimes it’s gonna be ugly. Sometimes, you’re gonna need a push from a friend. Sometimes, you’re not gonna know exactly what’s at the bottom.

But you’re gonna have to dive off the cliff anyway.

Nature certainly has an order.

The circle of life. The laws of physics and chemistry. Evolution. Our understanding of this order changes over time, but we recognize that order exists objectively, and that it has been designed in from the beginning.

Humans also have an order to our world.

Justice. Altruism. Aesthetics. Purpose. As with nature, our understanding of human order changes over time, and we recognize that this order is not designed in, but relative to culture, time, and place.

I sometimes wonder if the natural order of things and the human order of things are at odds. Maybe the magic happens when we seek to align the two orders.

Excitement. Apprehension. Nervousness. Optimism. Dread.

New adventures bring out all the feelings, whether you signed up voluntarily or someone else forced it on you.

The question isn’t whether you feel them. The question is what you do with them. Like everything else in life, it’s about perspective.

And you control your perspective.

Mediocre. Average. Meh.

Nobody wants that label. It doesn’t matter if it’s applied to you at work, the dinner you just made, or your skills as a spouse. I feel like I’ve spent much of my life trying to outrun mediocre.

Extraordinary. Outstanding. Exemplary.

Those are the labels you want.

But each set of labels have one thing in common — they’re relative to the people in the room. They require a comparison. Mediocre in relation to who? Extraordinary compared to what?

Sometimes, you just gotta change rooms. Recognizing when is next level.

What energizes you?

I’m energized by making stuff, learning new stuff, and starting new physical or mental adventures.

But energy is fickle because sometimes it leaves you. This is one of my big problems. I have a ton of energy to start something, but then the energy wanes to finish it. For example, I have four books started. None finished.

Finishing is just as important as starting. The difference is commitment.

Follow your energy, but back it up with commitment.

As a parent, have you heard about or been a part of a story like this:

“My 12-year old (7th grade) sends me a frantic text message because she forgot her notebook and homework assignment at home. The teacher said she’ll get a zero on the assignment if she doesn’t hand it in today.”

How do you handle it?

When I was 12, I get the zero. As would all/most of my classmates.

But parents today (myself included) are increasingly allergic to allowing kids to face the consequences.

What are the consequences of a 7th-grader getting a zero on a homework assignment?

None. It’s not going to affect her ability to get into college. It’s not going to effect her ability to get a job. It’s not going to affect her ability to do anything in life. 

But, if she’s allowed to fail and get the zero, what might she gain?

An understanding of consequences. An understanding of responsibility. An opportunity to experience and then learn how to handle emotional turmoil. 

It’s all in a 100% safe environment with no long-term downside. It’s the emotional equivalent of the playground full of rounded-edged, not-too-high-off-the-ground, and PTO-approved equipment surrounded by a dump truck full of ground-up rubber tires.

Sometimes we need to let them fail. 

If you’re a cyclist, you know.

The hills and headwinds separate the men from the boys. If you want to get better, faster, stronger, climb the hill and ride into the wind.

But then that killer, stand-on-the-pedals, crank-to-crank climb crests, and now you’re screaming at break-neck speed down the other side. Eyes streaming tears. Fighting to keep it together.

Or you take a turn, and that wind, which you’d swear had turned the smooth, hard road into hot, mushy sand, is like a hand on your back. Pushing you forward. Your legs now require half the energy to propel you forward twice as fast.

The hills crest, and the wind changes direction. Best to train for both.

Just like life.

I just got a text message reminding me of my dentist appointment tomorrow. I’ll get another one an hour before the appointment.

You probably do also — from your dentist, doctor, hair salon, and any place that requires you to make an appointment. It’s one of the great features of modern technology.

But it’s also subtly shifted responsibility.

When I was a kid, my mom took her calendar book every time we went to the doctor or dentist. At the end, she’d make an appointment for six months or even a year from then and write it down in that book. Each week, she’d look at the calendar and plan our week around who had to be where.

“On Thursday you’re going to the dentist. I’ll get the note ready.”

No electronic notifications. No text messages. No automated phone calls. No confirmations. She made the appointment — no, a contract — six months ago, and we’re going to show up right on time.

What happens when you miss an appointment? Who’s responsible?

The answer to that is generational. Technology has shifted it. My parents wouldn’t dream of thinking it’s the dentist’s responsibility. My kids wouldn’t dream of thinking it’s their own responsibility.

Me? I’m caught in between. My generation bridges the gap between personal responsibility and systemic responsibility.

Where else has technology shifted responsibility from the person to the system?