|
A great Rabbi died. He had been revered and loved by his congregation.
After his death, it was decided that the Rabbi's son, himself a Rabbi, would take his father's place. This pleased the congregation, for the son would be "just like his father." But after some time, there was surprise and grumbling. The son gave himself fully, heart and soul, to the synagogue, and began to make changes that displeased some of the people.
"You are not at all like your father," they told him, obviously disappointed.
"Oh, but I am," he replied. "For my father was one of a kind. He imitated no one. Neither do I."
One of a kind.
Lovingly accept the humanity entrusted to you.
This is not so easily accomplished in a world that dotes on vicarious lives, where the role of the article and the ads in the magazine I perused in the hotel lobby, is to make the me feel unhappy, inadequate and insufficient. (Whoever is responsible for this magazine must be very good at what they do, because they accomplished their goal.)
In a friend's house in Paso Robles, I see a hand drawn crayon picture of a dragon (drawn "in the hand" of a young child). The dragon is pink and purple and lavender. I liked the dragon and mentioned it to my host.
"My daughter did that drawing when she was very young," the friend told me. "And her teacher was not pleased, and told her that she did it all wrong. Everyone knows that dragons are not THAT color!"
It starts early.
Don't be different.
What will people think?
What makes you think you have an opinion?
Do you really feel that way?
That person is strange, isn't he?
Did you see the movie Benny and Joon? Johnny Deep plays Sam, a quirky and eccentric young man who spends time at the home of Benny and Joon (Benny the older brother who cares for his mentally challenged and artistically brilliant younger sister).
Sam is at home in his skin, with his "uniqueness." In one scene, in a local park, Sam begins to entertain Benny and Joon with a Buster Keatensque routine using his hat and cane.
Soon, a crowd gathers, fully entertained and appreciative. Benny (skeptical of Sam up to this point) see's Sam's genius and the unique treasure within.
"That was great," he enthused. "Did you learn that in school?"
"No," said Sam. "I was kicked out of school for that."
Here's the deal: Playing to public opinion I can sacrifice...
my emotions,
my feelings,
my passion,
my gifts,
my humanity.
Because there will always be some voice telling me that whoever I am today is not enough.
I am remembering a visit to the Northeast when I arrived on a Saturday as it stormed fiercely, all day. Our landing at JFK, quite literally, scared the bejesus out of me, and I wondered if it was my time. The rain and wind did not let up as I drove north to visit friends in Guilford, Connecticut.
From the inside, sitting by the fire, it is the kind of storm that causes both stress and amazement. So we decided, against reason and sanity, to leave the fireplace and our glass of wine, deciding to walk to the ocean (two blocks away) in order to watch the spectacle.
Around one a.m., we walked along Bloody Cove, taking in the full affect of the storm's tenacity and beauty. Standing not far from a sea wall (protecting the road on which we stood which ran adjacent to the beach) we watched the pageant unfold.
Waves pounded the sea wall. The sea thundered and roiled. The sea spray leapt and danced twenty feet into the air, crossing the road and baptizing the lawn on the opposite side. I stood, awestruck, felt the rain on my face, and knew somehow that I was in fact, honored to cheer the storm on, this great spectacle of wild, unrestrained, unapologetic exuberance.
And I know it is there--this unrestrained, unapologetic exuberance--inside each of us, and I wonder why it takes a storm to fall in love with the idea of living?
Pay Attention.
Be Astonished.
Tell about it.
Note: The purple dragon story reminds me of my new friends in Denver, where I just spent the weekend working... a small gathering that doesn't do church by "the book." They are, thankfully, wired a little different. We laughed from the gut and told stories and reminded one another that when we do pay attention, the unapologetic begins to spill... and that makes all the difference in the world. Stay connected: terryhershey.com terry's schedule |
