In a poorly lit, derelict church in Louisville, Kentucky I stood – arms crossed holding the sweating hands of the kid next to me – while dozens of fellow 16 years olds spilled their hearts out over what they had seen that day and how it affected them.
I’ve always been close to my emotions and I like a good sharing session. But like most teenage boys, I tried for the most part to look as tough as I could. Not easy for a scrawny pimpled face kid who let his mom cut his hair.
But that night in Louisville I was surrounded by people who wanted to open up. They wanted to share. It allowed me to push aside the ‘tough’ façade I worked so hard to project.
So, I shared. I told those fellow teenagers how I fought back tears helping an elderly homeless woman take her parcels of food from the food bank to her trolley. I described the guilt I felt for having so many opportunities while this woman was living on the edge of life. That moment 23 years ago has clearly stayed with me, and I think it’s partly because I was surrounded by people who were sharing that experience with me. We called it a Mission Trip.
Our church organised a trip every summer to take a couple of dozen teenagers away for a week of volunteering. The point of it was to broaden the experiences of a bunch of white cloistered kids from the Midwest and introduce them to the real everyday struggles faced by millions of the most vulnerable usually in a large city. We helped at soup kitchens, we built houses, we painted schools… all good deeds I’m sure. But mostly I went because I liked being around people with hope in their heart. People who wanted to make a difference.
The further I explore the impact of my inner circle, the more I have learned to accept that everything I surround myself with is a choice to either bring me joy or ultimately disappointment. Early on I could see that my attitude and outlook was affected by the company I was in. My mother warned me of falling into the wrong crowd. And yet, I have done it over and over. Work colleagues who bitch and moan but do nothing to improve things. Friends who complain about the government but refuse to vote. It’s easy to see these impacts.
What has been a new experience for me however, is the impact on my thinking by not just who I surround myself with, but equally what I surround myself with. 2 years ago, the thought of reading a book on the Power of Habits was unthinkable. But now I long for long drives simply so I can listen to another two chapters in a new book on leadership and management.
The businessman driving to a sales meeting listening to inspirational drivel. I feel like a cliché. And here’s the problem.
I allow other people’s reactions to affect my decisions. I’m far too worried about how I will be perceived.
I know regularly listening to material about improvement and living a purposeful life makes me feel better. It may seem to others that I’m trying to ‘act’ like a business owner or I’ve well and truly drunk the Kool-Aid… but I try not to care.
No longer will I allow the sniggers and side eyes lead me to vanilla ice cream
The more I understand about how my environment impacts me, the more I look for the changes I can make. Nicer food, better films, days out hiking rather than shopping, writing an article for a magazine instead of gawping at a fourth episode of the Big Bang Theory…
The results are evident. If I read more, I feel better. If I eat less junk, I feel better. If I create something artistic, I feel better…. If I drink too much, I regret it. If I linger on Facebook, I regret it. If I stay too long in a meeting complaining about the problems of GDPR, I regret it.
What I see, hear, read, eat, do… it is all my choice. There is freedom in accepting that. I can choose to fill my cup with what makes me grow, or I can fill it with what makes me regretful… mainly McDonald’s Mayo Chicken and Facebook comments.
It’s not easy by any means. The whole world wants to keep me the way I was. But I have experienced happiness. I have seen for myself that small changes in what I fill my cup with can have big impacts.
Sure, I may seem like a walking caricature of a guy desperately trying to find happiness, but you know what, at least I’m trying. At least I’m not willing to accept the bog standard.
As I stride across the park in my spandex, carrying a vegetarian quinoa salad with roasted beetroot and butternut squash, listening to 7 Habits of Successful Leaders, on my way to a Park Run… I now I look like I am trying too hard. And that’s good. I am trying hard.
I am learning to fill my life with the things that will make me grow. Very little of any of this has to do with me working toward a Vision. These choices are about improving my life today. That’s important to me.
Most of my life has been trudging along waiting for the better times to come along. Do this, to get to that, so later I can get there. Nothing wrong with a vision of course. But I was working towards what I thought was the vision society had painted for me. Stable job, nice house, retirement, do a bit of traveling, nursing home, die with dignity. I feel sick thinking about it.
I struggle with my vision, so instead I am focusing on what is making me healthy and happy now. It is much easier, and the results are immediate.
No longer will I allow the sniggers and side eyes to lead me to vanilla ice cream. Let the grumps and the ‘too cool for school’ kids have their contentment. I want more. I want fulfilment and joy. I want to expand my understanding of what makes me happy. If that means I have to run with a new crowd, that’s what I’m going to do.
9 years ago, my wife was pregnant, and she asked me to read a book called Hypnobirthing. The book dispelled a lot of the myths around childbirth and described how women were expertly designed over millions of years of evolution to have babies. Shock I know.
After I read the book, she proclaimed that she would like to attend hypnobirthing classes with a hypnotherapist to prepare her for having the baby at home in our living room in a large pool.
Mind blown. What type of Birkenstock wearing hippy had I married? Babies are born in a hospital with lots of doctors and nurses. She is supposed to be screaming and bursting blood vessels in her eyes while I stand next to her and hold her hand looking strong and stable.
Instead, in a candle lit room with the sound of whales in the background, my wife calmly delivered our daughter as I caught her and lifted her out of the water to place her on my wife’s chest. It remains the single greatest day of my life. I wasn’t a passive bystander waiting for the moment to happen. I was part of the birth in a way I never knew was possible. And it’s because my wife refused to accept the norm.
If she had caved to the disapproval of our parents… If she had accepted the standard operating system… we would still have our wonderful daughter, but that day would have been so much less special for both of us.
We read, we studied, we educated ourselves to learn a new way of moving through an experience nearly everyone has gone through. But we did it in a way that brought us joy.
That is what excites me. What else will I discover that will shift my perspective? How can I alter my perception of the world around me? What can I fill my cup with?
I have the freedom to choose my happiness, but only if I can get over myself and accept that others will mock me and disapprove.
