THROUGHTS ON THE STRESS OF CHANGING THINGS
EMOTIONAL RESILIENCE IS THE KEY—THE ABILITY TO ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES, TO KEEP YOUR COOL
I DON’T HAVE IT—OR NOT ENOUGH OF IT (THOUGH I SEEM TO BE GETTING BETTER).
I GET HURT WHEN I FIGHT FOR A CAUSE. I HESITATE, I FALL, I FREEZE. I TRULY WISH I WAS AS RESILIENT AS THE CHARACTERS IN MY BOOKS.
ALL I CAN SAY IN MY FAVOR IS THAT I PICK MYSELF UP AND KEEP GOING. I’M DAMNED IF I KNOW WHY. SOMETIMES, I’M DAMNED IF I KNOW HOW.
I KEEP GOING ANYWAY.
I GUESS, IT APPEALS TO MY SENSE OF HUMOR
The British financial newspaper, The Financial Times, once ran a piece—it was some decades ago (pre-internet)—called THE ART OF BEING SECOND.
The thesis was that innovation—indeed effecting significant change of any kind—was so tough that the pioneers often ended up exhausted and the opportunists reaped the rewards. They then supported their argument quite convincingly with a series of case histories.
The lesson was clear—and was spelled out. To be first was dumb. Much better to hold back, and then nip in and claim the prize.
Change-makers, pioneers, innovators and similar adventurers tend not to be deterred by that kind of argument—however valid it may be. We tend to do what we do because we have to. We are driven by our passion—and so we continue virtually regardless of the consequences. Such is our nature.
The fates cheated me a bit. They gave me most of the attributes of a true adventurer—including an impressive ability to get myself into difficult situations and go up against impossible odds, but then they topped up this impressive package—they included considerable imagination and intelligence into the bargain—with the heart of a cowardly lion.
Then they threw in a sense of humor. It tipped the scales.
I keep going.
Besides, despite my doubts and rocky ability to mange my fears, I truly love what I do. The arena of thoughts into written words is a magic place full of powerful, stimulating, entertaining and significant ideas—some are dangerous—and I get to play in it all day, and sometimes until late at night.
The sand covers the blood that is spilled—and plenty is. Well, what else can you expect in an arena?.
What is not to love? I may even learn to embrace my fears.
VOR words 399