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Embracing Failure: Lessons from Ted Williams

I should be more consistent with writing. I don’t usually sit down and think of a particular topic to write about. Most of the time, it just comes to me. Just the other day, I was thinking about “failure.” I realized that many things I write about have failure as a central theme. I don’t consider myself an expert on anything, but if I were to bestow that title on myself in some regard, it would be “Master of Failing.”

To be honest, I’m not even mad about it. It took a while to learn, but once I figured out that failing was an important part of growing, I decided to embrace it. I’m not saying that I have never made the same mistake twice, but I feel like most of my failures are unique, and I use them to fuel growth and development.

I’ve been in the car business for almost 20 years. When you are a professional salesperson, failure is a constant factor. Even the best in the industry don’t sell to every customer they talk to. A GOOD salesperson should expect to close 30%- 35% of the customers they interact with. To put it in perspective, if a baseball player gets a hit one out of every three times he goes to the plate, he’s considered a Hall of Famer. Similarly, if a salesperson closes a sale with one out of every three customers, they’re doing exceptionally well.

That means that the best players in the game’s history fail two out of every three times they have an at-bat.

Today, I’m returning to 1941, when Ted Williams had arguably the best season at the plate in baseball history. He finished the ’41 season with a batting average of .406 with 37 home runs and 120 RBIs. To provide context, .200, the Mendoza line, is considered the low-end threshold for professional ball players. The average batting average of Hall of Famers is .303.

Williams played in 143 games that season and had 456 at-bats. But the breakdown of three particular stretches of that 1941 season interests me the most.

On April 30th, Williams entered the game hitting .462. Over the next four games, he hit .182, dropping his season average to .310.

By June 21st, he had battled his way back up to .415. But he only hit .318 over the next 21 games, dropping that average all the way down to .393.

His average peaked again at .413 during the heat of the pennant race in early September. But a .292 stretch over the next 17 games saw it drop right to the .400 mark near the end of the season. Entering the last day of the year, he was so close to the .400 mark that a bad day at the plate would have kept him from reaching that sacred number.

This is important because even though his season as a whole is considered extraordinary, not every day, or even week, was even considered average. But during those subpar stretches, Ted Williams didn’t panic. He didn’t change up his swing. He didn’t stay down in the dumps and stop coming to work. He showed up every day, stepped inside that chalk-outlined box, and did his job to the best of his abilities. And he let the chips fall where they may.

The most significant lesson I’ve learned about failure is that it’s interwoven into the fabric of success. It’s more about ‘fall, learn, grow’ than ‘pass or fail.’ These three unremarkable stretches of Ted Williams’ historic season wouldn’t impress anyone. But his resilience and determination during those times are just as, if not more, important than his successes.

We get so caught up in results that sometimes we lose focus on the processes. Instead of getting up and walking out of the pit of despair, we let ourselves get so deep that we can’t even climb out. We let our losses define us even though we may be on the cusp of a breakthrough. Our inactivity lets the tide sweep us back to the starting line when riding the wave will get us closer to our destination.

I used to tell kids when they’d ask me a question, “I wish I had it all figured out.” I don’t tell them that anymore because it isn’t true. I’m glad I don’t have it all figured out. My next failure is always right around the corner, and I’m excited to see what revelation it will lead to. I try (emphasis on “try” ) to be consistent and open-minded while keeping a positive attitude. In the words of the great poet Henry Longfellow: “Learn to labor and to wait.”

Show up. Stay the course. Keep your head high. Learn. Don’t quit. Don’t ever quit.

Clarity and the Responsibilities Which Come With It

As I sat in the pew every Sunday morning in church, I heard people pray for ‘clarity.’ As a kid, I didn’t understand what that meant. To me, life was simple—no responsibilities, no stakes. But as I grew older, I realized that clarity is one of life’s most sought-after yet elusive aspects. It’s what we crave when we’re faced with hard decisions and uncertain futures

I’ve had many moments in my adult life where I did just that. All I wanted was a clear path to form before me. I’ve been faced with hard decisions and made tough choices without having enough information present. What I wouldn’t have given for an “eliminate the worst option” or “freeze time” card that could have helped me along the way. Or better yet, why can’t someone just make the RIGHT decision for me?

There is no proverbial light bulb that goes off. You don’t just scratch your head until you have your “aha” moment. Clarity comes when the tangled web of your experiences and your chaotic glimpse of the future magically line up. It’s when you know something must be done in a specific way or in a certain amount of time. In the sense I am writing about, clarity is seeing the best version of a particular part of your life and an actual path toward getting there. It is more than just a moment of insight—it’s that instant when you know, without a doubt, what you need to do, whether it’s finally taking that job offer or walking away from a toxic relationship.

This struggle and the challenge of its brother, hindsight, are not new; they’re as old as time, as seen in the story of Cain and Abel. We all know the story, and I believe that, more than anything, it is a vital allegory about personal responsibility. When Cain sees his brother’s treatment for his hard work and sacrifice, he realizes that he would be getting the same treatment if he had willfully performed the duties asked of him. We’ve all been there to a certain extent.

Imagine finding yourself at the bad end of a situation and then realizing YOU are the one to blame. Everything on the test was covered in class, but YOU didn’t study it. Your transmission goes out in your truck, but YOU blew your money instead of saving it. Your boyfriend breaks up with you because YOU didn’t take the time to learn how he needed to be loved.

Hindsight is 20/20, but clarity happens when you learn these things before it’s too late. Unfortunately, it’s not always as easy as studying for a test or saving money. The problems of life come with layers and complexity.

My grandma always said to be careful when praying for patience or courage because the Lord won’t just give it to you. You’ll have to earn it. He’ll give you opportunities to practice patience and put you in situations that allow you to be courageous. Those aren’t always the most popular places or events to be involved in. I’ve learned the same thing about clarity.

There is a sense of comfort and security in the ambiguity of the future. If you can’t tell what you COULD become, COULD obtain, or the relationships you COULD cultivate, then missing out on them doesn’t hurt. You never saw them and can’t lose what you never had. You can blame outside circumstances, timing, or many other things that are not in your control. You can easily avoid blaming yourself.

Clarity puts the responsibility squarely on your shoulders. It forces your decisions and actions to align with a target. Missing that target has tangible consequences. It requires you to be the best version of yourself so you can be ready to accept the blessings when they start pouring in. It means making multiple sacrifices in the present for what you will obtain in the future. This can be a tireless and trying task. It’s not the carrot at the end of a stick. It’s what awaits you after navigating through the labyrinth.

Clarity is a powerful gift, but it’s also a call to action. It demands that we face the truth of our choices and take responsibility for our future. Whether we embrace it as a blessing or shy away from it in fear, clarity offers us a chance to shape our destiny. Either way, it’s one hell of a thing to experience. The question is: will we rise to the challenge?

Strong Timber

There is a tree at work that I watch throughout the year. It sits slightly off the road, between the bank and the car lot, but closer to the bank. I’m not sure what type of tree it is, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time looking at it when I’m outside.

I’m no dendrologist (I definitely had to Google that one), but it’s probably 30 years old. Many trees in our little town are more giant and more beautiful. In fact, I’ve probably driven by this one for most of my life without noticing it. But I’ve learned that the older I get, the more I see the little things.

I enjoy the changes it makes throughout the different seasons, from complete and green to bare and rugged. One year, I even spotted some mistletoe high up in the branches. Trees have long served as a reminder to us to let go, start fresh, and flourish.

And grow.

If you watch a tree every day, you can’t see it grow. You may notice a difference if you only see it once a year. If you only see it every ten years, it won’t be the same tree you remember initially seeing.

The other day, I was watching it and noticed the top swaying in the wind. It was the only portion of the tree moving, going back and forth briskly. I thought for a minute that it may even snap. The contrast it highlighted with the thick trunk and sturdy branches was noticeable. But then, it hit me.

Every other part of that tree had gone through a similar stage in its development. The rest of it was sturdy and stable because the wind and weather had tested it in the past. Either pass the test and become stronger, or let the weather snap you in two and prevent further growth. The biggest oaks and pines in the world are the ones that have weather the hardest, most frequent storms.

And you can say the same thing about the strongest people.

“Good timber does not grow with ease:

The stronger wind, the stronger trees;

The further sky, the greater length;

The more the storm, the more the strength.

By sun and cold, by rain and snow,

In trees and men good timbers grow.”

–Douglas Malloch

Blades of Potential

Disclaimer: I always need to reiterate that if I write and publish it, I believe it. How we all apply it to our lives is the hard part. As much as I relate to these ideas, implementing them has sometimes been challenging. If this life can be “figured out,” I haven’t done it yet. Writing gets it from my brain to a place where I can think more clearly. Blog posts like this are a way to keep steering in the right direction.

I subscribe to a fantastic newsletter from Farnam Street called Brain Food. Here is the link if you want to sign up : https://fs.blog/newsletter/ The whole idea behind Farnam Street is to help you master the things that other people have already figured out. The weekly newsletter is a catalog of articles around the internet that help you see things through a different lens. A few months back, one of the feature articles reported from MIT on a study in which scientists were trying to figure out why razor blades were so easily damaged by hair.

If you’re like me, you’ve probably not thought much about the disposable nature of razors. More than likely, you buy a new pack when the old razors get dull. But when you think about it, it really is a bit odd that something made of stainless steel is damaged by something as soft as human hair. The article even mentions hair is 50 times weaker than steel, yet only a single piece can cause the edge to chip. Once one initial chip or crack is present, it becomes susceptible to more chipping, eventually causing the entire edge to become dull.

At this point in the article, I had an idea of what could cause the problem, but I wanted to read more to be sure. All I could think about was how our lives can be turned upside down, flipped around, and tossed about by small things that turn into big things. Sure, you can take a hammer to a razor blade and destroy it in a heartbeat, but more often, they get worn down over time until they eventually can’t work to their full potential. That sounds an awful lot like our lives as humans.

Here is a link to the article. Long story short, the team found three reasons that a blade could become more prone to chipping:

· The microstructure of the steel is not uniform

· The blade’s approaching angle to a strand of hair

· The presence of defects in the steel’s microstructure

I believe there are similar reasons we can become prone to “chipping” as well.

· Our foundation and governing principles are not uniform

· Our approach angle to our mundane, everyday tasks

· The presence of defects in our foundation (blind spots)

Developing our foundation and governing principles starts before we have any control over their creation. It begins with our genetics and parents, and over the years, other people come into our lives that help shape them as well. Friends, teachers, coaches, mentors–all have a huge role to play in our development. Eventually, we mature to a point where we begin to think independently, but our past relationships and experiences affect us in ways we couldn’t control, even if we wanted to.

Having different opinions on different topics is normal, but the things that we believe on a foundational basis are rarely if ever, changed. And if they are, you can bet it is a challenging process. When these principles are at odds with each other, they cause a rift, which leaves us as a prime target for internal conflict. “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other.” — Matthew 6:24-26

To remedy this, we must do some soul-searching and figure out what we TRULY believe. We must know who we are and be conscious enough to understand that we can’t fool ourselves. If our actions don’t align with what we believe, then there is no uniformity in our microstructure, and it’s only a matter of time before our foundation starts to crumble.

Those actions are the second reason we don’t reach our potential. We get so caught up in the “big” parts of our lives that the daily tasks and how we perform them get lost in the shuffle. Martha Beck coined the phrase, “How you do anything is how you do everything.” If she’s right, that is one of the most profound statements I’ve ever read.

Our life really is a whole bunch of little things done over and over again and sprinkled with the occasional “big” thing. A 75-year-old man may take 50 family vacations over the years, but he has dinner with his wife 18,250 times over that same period. Which one of those is more important at the end of his life? Doing the little things right can be tedious and mundane, but how we approach and attack them can make all the difference in the world.

Just like a blade can have defects in its microstructure, we, too, can have defects in our foundation. These blind spots can give us a false sense of how our world works. The great Persian poet Rumi said it best: “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today, I am wise, so I am changing myself”.

The most significant defect in our foundation is denying the prospect that we could be wrong about something—or everything. When we refuse to entertain the possibility that our ideas can be tested–and even changed– we reject the opportunity to grow into our full potential.

Razor blades are disposable. It would make little sense to inspect each one at a microscopic level or study the effects of each shaving session on the edges of the blade. Our lives, though–they are anything but disposable. The great news is that if we create a strong foundation within ourselves, become open to learning and growing, and embrace the importance of the small things with passion, we can grow closer to unlocking our full potential. It may not make the pages of an MIT research magazine, but it will help make our small circle of influence exponentially better.

Happy Birthday, Mom

I must have been 11 or 12 years old when my buddy and I got up in front of our church family and sang “A Song for Mama” by Boyz II Men. He was and still is a natural musician with a great voice and a knack for learning any instrument. I, on the other hand, was not and still can’t. But I played the drums and saxophone in church and, at least this one time, even sang a song. I did it because it made my momma happy.

I thought about this song today and gave it a quick play on Spotify, and I tried to take myself back to that moment when we sang it at church. I saw my mom sitting at the piano and his mom sitting at the organ; their faces lit up, and they were proud of the young men their sons were turning into. We could have never known that day that some 30 years later, they would both be gone. If I had known, I would have sung her more songs. As many as she wanted.

My mom would be 62 years old tomorrow and spending most of her time telling everyone about how her oldest grandchild would be graduating high school soon. Or how her youngest is full of sass and spirit. She would be at every football, basketball, or baseball game she could attend. Every cheerleading competition or band recital. She’d find ways to show them how much they mean to her in their own way. And if I’m being candid here, it pisses me off that she got cheated out of so much. Or maybe I’m selfish and upset that she got ripped away from us too soon.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, and it may eventually. Some days it happens more than others, but I think about her daily. 95% of the time, those thoughts make me smile or even put me at ease, but that other 5% is brutal, man. When I see someone’s silhouette and mistake it for hers. When I hear a laugh that sounds like her laugh. When someone mentions seeing her in my kids. Those days the grief holds on and doesn’t let go.

“I’ll never go a day without my mama.” That’s a line from the song I took issue with after listening to it. I’ve gone many days without her now. She won’t be at the table during holidays or taking pictures in the background. She won’t be bringing me a drink out of the blue or calling to see how my day at work went. I can’t listen to her play the piano or seek her advice when I’m in a bind.

But, dadgum it, she lives on. She lives on in me and my children and the memories that live rent-free in my head. The photos come to life, and the home videos tell new stories. She lives on in this blog and the stories I tell my kids, and hopefully, they’ll recant to theirs. She’ll forever keep that special place in my heart and soul, and her sweet voice will always ring in my head.

I write these things out and throw them in the wind for 2 reasons. For one, it helps me clear my mind when things get all jammed up in there and must be purged. And secondly, I want this to be accessible to someone who might be going through a similar situation and not know how to deal with it. Maybe my words can comfort them or get them through the day. Almost everyone has had to deal with loss at some point. But that doesn’t mean it is ever easy.

Happy birthday in Heaven, Mom. I’m doing my best down here, I promise. Love you always!

Shoot for the Moon…or Anywhere–Just Shoot

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” I think I heard that line a million times when I was growing up. If I’m not mistaken, it was actually the Senior motto of our graduating class (it “beat out,” another less appropriate phrase that everyone REALLY voted for). In practical terms, it means to set a goal, work towards it, and then let the results fall where they may. Assuming you work hard, you can be proud of whatever happens.

Okay. I get that. On the surface, it is a harmless little motivational whim that can make us all feel better about the randomness and injustices of life. But as I’ve gotten older (hopefully a little wiser), I’ve thought about this often. I’ve come to the conclusion that this quote is misguided. The problem is that no one ever talks about the how. What exactly does it mean to “work hard?” It shouldn’t be about the moon; it should be about the “shooting.”

The problem lies with the destination. If everyone is shooting at the same target, many people will definitely hit the mark. But how? Many variables are operating behind the scenes. Genetics, timing, upbringing, nationality, luck. Plenty will land on the moon in part or whole by inadvertently combining some of these factors, regardless of their work ethic or “shooting ability.”

On the flip side, many people who put in the time and effort to get there won’t. These same factors, and more, can be as big of a hindrance to them as it is helpful to someone else. Consider the haughty arrogance of someone who made it to the moon by chance. Now contrast that to the smothering defeat that could be felt by someone who “did everything right” but still fell short.

So if we can get to the moon by chance or, conversely, never get there despite our best efforts, then is the moon really a good thing to shoot for. I’d say yes. It provides a tangible goal to pursue—a prize to keep our eyes on. But I’d argue that the framework we put in place to get there is far more critical than that. As my boss has taught me over the years, “A goal without a plan is just a wish.”

Another cliché I’ve heard tossed about is, “It’s not about the destination, but the journey.” I like this one much better. The idea that the process along the way is more important than the actual destination appeals to me. It takes quite some time to get to the moon. What if your circumstance changes? What if something happens to the moon? What if you find something better to aim at?

The key is to take the time to develop a plan, tediously implement it, and hold yourself accountable for your effort daily. Even if you fall short of the moon, you’ll be better prepared to tackle your next trip than someone who arrived there by luck, chance, nepotism, et. You will continue building on the experience you’ve earned on your travels. In contrast, the latter person won’t be prepared to aim at their next target and will continue to depend on outside factors for their success. Or, they’ll decide to stay on the moon. It’s a big universe out there. Why stop there?

The beginning of a new year is the perfect time to sit down and figure out where you want to aim and set your trajectory. The moon is a popular destination, but another place could better serve our time, effort, and vision. How do we get there? That depends on way too many individual factors for me to be able to answer. But the plan, implementation, execution, and accountability will be the most essential factors in determining the quality of your journey. And if you can get those down, I promise it will be one hell of a trip…whatever you decide to shoot and wherever you happen to land.

This Christmas

This Christmas, some people will sit around the TV and watch sports while talking about how nice it is to have a break from work. But others will be going into the new year hoping to get a call back from one of places they left their resume. And some will be patrolling streets, fighting fires, working the counter at a gas station, pulling a double shift at the hospital, or making sure we keep the electricity turned on.

This Christmas, some people will be surrounded by loving family in a home filled with joy, laughter, and excitement. But some people will be sitting all alone with no one to enjoy it with. Or on the open highway because they can’t stand the feeling of an empty house. Some wives will be sitting next to abusive husbands, trying their best to hide their pain from everyone else. Some men will be watching their cheating wives pass presents around for the kids, wondering how long they can hold on to a marriage that’s failing.

This Christmas, some people will pick up their grandkids or play football with their cousins. But some people won’t be able to pick themselves up out of their wheelchairs. And others will have just received horrible news about an inoperable tumor. Some people will be spending their Christmas day hooked up to ventilators or IV drips, and others will stare at the walls in a nursing home, praying they had family to come visit them.

This Christmas, some parents will take pictures with their infant as they soak in the experience of a child’s first Christmas. But others will be mourning the first holiday season without their child. Some will know that this might be the last Christmas with an aging parent or loved one, while others will have to muddle through the season with a fresh loss hanging heavy over their heart. Chairs that have been filled for years will be empty and many familiar faces will be permanently absent.

This Christmas, most of us will have access to a warm house, running water, electricity, and edible food. But many others won’t have any of these things. Some parents will endure fatigue, hunger, and their own well-being just to put a smile on their childrens’ faces, even if only for a moment. And some won’t have the means to even be able to that.

This Christmas, some will slow down and take stock of all the blessings present in their lives. And others won’t realize what they have until they don’t have it anymore. And since we will never truly know the full situation of our neighbors or strangers we may encounter, a little bit of empathy can go a long way.

Low Hanging Fruit

“Low hanging fruit” is one of those southern terms that I have heard so many times over the years that I never really thought about what it meant. The other day, though, I talked to my son about something significant, and I used the phrase. He asked me what it meant, and I had to stop for a minute and think. I have these moments from time to time, and I never seem to be prepared for them. I listened to plenty of great parenting advice, but no one ever told me they would ask so many innocent questions that were so hard to answer. But, like it tends to happen, the answer I came up with probably helped me more than it helped him.

https://www.equalexperts.com/blog/our-thinking/is-it-time-to-rethink-low-hanging-fruit/

For context, this particular son has been the target of bullying at school. We talk about it a lot, and he knows he can confide in his mom and me. For the most part, the bullying has been verbal. But, it’s hard to grasp the concept of sticks and stones at that age. I know how kids, specifically boys, can act. If your parents get involved with this, it can make the situation a whole lot worse than it already is—especially when the adults aren’t looking. I also believe that protecting your kids from things like this can be more detrimental to them than helping them find the tools they need to deal with them and overcome them.

https://metro.co.uk/2021/12/14/bully-2-was-supposed-to-be-at-the-game-awards-claims-rockstar-insider-15768975/

He has always been a little socially awkward and mouthy—a deadly combination and the recipe for an easy target. We’ve gone to great lengths to try to cultivate a little bit of self-awareness in him. As unfortunate as it is for someone his age, other kids notice how you dress, talk, carry yourself, interact with others, etc. Not only do they see these things, but they seem to care way more than he does (which is not at all).

So, I explained that bullies like to go for the low-hanging fruit. “What does that mean, dad?”
I stopped for a minute and thought about it. I first used the example of an apple tree. I asked him if he had to pick ten apples off of the tree, which ones would he choose. Of course, he said, the ones closest to the ground. “See, son, it’s just easier that way. The lower the fruit hangs, the easier it is to get it off of the tree, and bullies are always going to take the path of least resistance.” He gave me a slight nod and was hoping I would shut up. But, I didn’t—I thought about it some more.

https://www.northjersey.com/story/life/columnists/2018/11/29/parenting-angry-teen-tween/2117983002/

I asked him if he thought the fruit at the top of the tree was more desirable, and I was surprised that he knew it was, and he even knew it was because they get more sunlight.

We talked about how apples were stuck on the tree and didn’t get to choose their positioning. But the great thing about our lives is that we can put ourselves in a position to receive more light. For my son, that means behaving in a way that makes adults and other students want to interact with him. More interactions mean more opportunities, which means more chances to learn and grow. Learning and growing continue to open more paths and avenues for further development.

Putting ourselves higher up on the tree not only gives us more sunlight but also prevents people from coming by and picking us off the limb. The longer we stay on the tree, the more we can remain green and continue to grow (credit my car business mentor for that one). If we fall off the tree before we are ready, we end up rotting on the ground or, even worse, food for farm animals.

Receiving extra sunlight and staying on the limb longer ultimately give us the chance to ripen on our terms. Instead of being plucked off by people looking for low-hanging fruit, we can continue to learn and grow until we are ready to fall off ourselves.

I only hope that my son got as much from this teaching moment as I did.

The Science, no, Art of Letting Go

Fall is here, and with it comes the clichés of starting over, shedding baggage, and embracing change. I usually shudder when I see something like that, yet here I am, clutching the moment and coming to realizations that are a long time in the making. Maybe there actually is something unique to the archetypical, long-standing arrangement between the 4 seasons.

https://onlyinark.com/culture/top-8-fall-color-road-trips-in-arkansas/

For as long as I can remember, I have always felt like an analytical person. I usually perform best in structured environments where I know what to expect. If A, then B. Give me a checklist and what you expect from me, and you can almost bet I’ll produce. I really liked Math in school—once you figure out how to do it, you can always arrive at the correct answer.

I realized a trend recently in my life. It seems as though I like the challenge of trying to figure out a way to apply structure and rigidity to things that don’t usually fit inside of a box. I tried this with the car business. No two people are the same, and no two car deals play out the same, either. I tried to eliminate all of the variables and create a process that worked the same every time. This isn’t a new thing in the industry, but I think I did it pretty well, and it was definitely my favorite aspect of the business.

https://insights.dice.com/2019/09/20/mathematicians-list-hottest-job-titles/

I tried to do the same thing in my marriage. If I do this, this, and this, then surely that, that, and that will follow. It’s an excellent way to keep things predictable and stable for a short bit of time, but I don’t think that strategy would work in any marriage over the long haul.

This year I have had to let go quite a bit—more than any other year to date. And, like most other things I have encountered in life, I subconsciously tried to deal with it from a scientific, or analytical, frame of mind. What I’ve learned is that letting go is no science at all. It is the art of all arts.

https://www.insightsassociation.org/article/art-vs-science-market-research-battle-we-can-win-win

I never will forget a conversation I had with my dad while my mom was dying. We were near the end of her stint in a long-term rehab center, and I was frustrated because no one was giving me answers. I tried to get the doctor to call me for days and kept getting the run around from the nurses. Dad had mentioned something about them recommending hospice care, and the tone of his voice made me realize that he had seen the writing on the wall. This was the first time I had considered that my mom could die and probably was dying. He later told me something along the lines of, “I was wondering when you were going to accept that she was dying.”

That only began the process of letting go of mom. I had spent months watching her health decline but always believed something would change and she would end up being okay. I always thought she would walk again. When we moved her to hospice, I had to change my whole frame of mind. A friend at work suggested that I “release her.” That I tell her that it’s okay for her to leave. So, I did.

https://www.ewellnessmag.com/article/giving-the-final-gift-eleven-ways-to-help-a-dying-person-let-go

The night before she died, I kissed her on her forehead and told her how much I loved her. I brought the kids in one by one to say goodbye. I prayed with her and played her favorite song on the phone. She knew about the problems I was having in my marriage, so I assured her that whatever happened, I would be fine. I let her go. And then she died the following day.

There was no scientific way to get there—just some advice from a good friend and a leap of faith. Letting her go lifted an emotional burden off my shoulders and I’m convinced it helped mom let go of her earthly body. It helped her end her suffering and enabled me to start the grieving process.

I’ve also had to let go of marriage this year.

https://www.powerofpositivity.com/marriage-worth-saving-or-time-to-let-go/

I felt like I had done everything on the checklist the right way. I thought I had killed all the baby dragons before they became big enough to come to burn down our home. I had sacrificed some happiness, emotional health, and a whole lot of time in exchange for stability and security. The only problem was I didn’t ask for any help when I made the checklist, and she had one of her own that I wasn’t taking care of.

My analytical mind had told me that if I kept battling forward, eventually, the dam would break. Every time someone looking in from the outside told me that I needed to be done, it fueled me to keep trying that much harder. The harder I pushed, the further away from the prize I found myself. In the scientific world, force x speed = power. But in the realm of emotions, force x speed = distance created.

https://slidetodoc.com/lesson-5-4-power-essential-question-how-do/

I fought for a long time, too, man. I fought so much that I’m pretty sure I actually lost focus of what I was fighting for. I held on to principles, memories, and images of what I had envisioned for my life. I battled and battled because I felt like the kids deserved for us to be together. If I had gotten what I wanted, odds are we wouldn’t have been able to make it work anyway. Regardless, I fought hard—even though it was too late. At some point, I realized that I was only fighting for the sake of fighting. And the moment that crossed my mind, I let go.

I don’t regret fighting. I can live with what happened, and the experiences learned will make me such a better partner the next time around. I left it all on the court, and even after the buzzer sounded, I stayed around and kept shooting. I was still there after the lights went out and the crowd emptied the building. It sharpened my skills and made me better, but eventually, you have to jump back into a new game.

https://identity-mag.com/this-one-is-for-all-the-basketball-players-out-there/

For 38 years, I viewed “letting go” as if I were hanging from the side of a cliff, and to “let go” would mean a plummet straight toward the ground. Letting go is hard, and if you look at it through that lens, it is also scary and intimidating—free falling to your imminent death.

But what I’ve learned this year, I hope everyone reading this will take away with them. Sometimes, what you are holding on to isn’t as sturdy as you think. When you let go, you take a burden off what you are holding on to—like my mom and my marriage. And sometimes, that fall doesn’t always mean certain death. While you’re falling, you can see the world around you from a different perspective. New possibilities bring themselves to light. New pathways provide highways for new journeys. You meet other people who have let go as well, and you can fall together. If you embrace the fall, it can become a beautiful experience.

And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll even land on your feet.

A Social Idiot Analyzes Social Media: Part One

“Is this real life, or is this just a fantasy?” Social media wasn’t around when Freddy Mercury and Queen recorded Bohemian Rhapsody. Still, those words ring loud and clear some 35 years later. Has social media become prevalent enough to be considered “real life?” Or, is it still just a hobby and time-waster that shouldn’t be taken seriously?

https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-34651067

According to a study found on Statista , over 70 percent of the US population uses social media. 70 percent is enough to win a two-thirds majority, would be a passing grade in school, and would make you feel comfortable that you wouldn’t have to plug in your iPhone for quite some time. The same site also posts a survey that found only 62 percent of the population was employed.

Aside from the overt data tracking and targeted advertising on all of the most popular platforms, the concept of social media on a grand scale is also still a very new idea. (Remember when Facebook at least TRIED to hide the fact that they were tracking you?)

https://newstyledigital.com/is-facebook-spying-on-your-conversations/

As far as long-term implications are concerned, we have no idea what to expect. Some may consider it the grandest social experiment the world has ever known.

Statista also reports that the average time spent per day on social media is 145 minutes. The keyword there is average. So for two and a half hours a day, the average person scrolls other people’s feeds, shares news articles, looks at photos and videos, or creates status updates for their circle sphere of influence. But if you consider the “light users,” that means many people spend considerably more time a day doing those things.

Take a few liberties and assume an average workday of 8 hours and an average of 8 hours of sleep at night. That leaves 8 more hours each day to fill your time with other activities. Some of that would be spent eating, grooming, and doing the daily humdrum routines we are used to. But on average, 70% of the population use over 31% of their free time accessing social media.

Disclaimer: This is not a scientific study, just an observation based on loose assumptions. I also realize part of the workday could be spent on social media, and I have not accounted for weekends either.

https://www.bcheights.com/2015/11/18/consuming-social-media-in-small-doses/

So what does this mean? Well, for the 30% of the population that doesn’t use social media, it can’t be “real life,” right? And the light users who only use it sporadically would probably fit into that category as well. But, I would say it is very much “real life” to people who use it consistently. If this is true, then that means these different types of social media users will see and process the world entirely differently than each other. How does this affect the way they interact together? How has the world around us changed to cater to each different group? What can we expect in 20 years?

We’ll look at some of the questions and more in Part 2. Thanks for reading!

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