Of the thousands of activities in which I’ve engaged during my adult life, I’ve taken some pursuits more seriously than others. And of those that I undertook with interest, commitment and vigor, there isn’t one at which I didn’t excel.
That includes my professions, my pastimes and my personal relationships. I have zero regrets, and I make no apologies for being proud of that.
Excellence, however, isn’t synonymous with success. I was an excellent husband in a marriage that failed. I lost a couple of jobs despite having performed at the highest level.
I had great success along the way, too, but ultimately, excellence is all any of us can hope to control.
Through the years, I developed a sense of the kinds of people that I met on my journey. I distilled it down to three.
There are preachers.
There are teachers.
And there are judges.
Preachers fill a valuable role as motivators, folks who inspire us to take on a kind of work or live a certain way. They’re purveyors of principles and values. But these messengers are invested only in their messages and resist making connections. There’s little true interaction. Because a preacher’s job is done once persuasion is achieved — or rejected — there’s no bond.
Judges are life’s critics. They operate from ego, presuming authority that may or may not be warranted. Masters of the tsk-tsk, the head shake and the eye-roll, they expect us to be as disappointed in ourselves as they are in us. Their contribution begins and ends with disapproval, usually cloaked in feigned interest or false humility. Though judges can serve us as guardrails, they don’t offer much more.
A true teacher is exceedingly rare. A teacher’s mission is to convey knowledge, wisdom and experience in a way that’s useful. Teachers don’t stand apart or above, judging or preaching — they come to and work with. They relate. Their interest is genuine.
All three kinds of people are essential to us. Indeed, each of us judges, preaches to and teaches others. But at this stage of my life, I have time for only one — the teacher.
I’ll motivate myself, thank you very much, and I’ll keep my own counsel. I’m here to learn.
The best way to attract teachers, I’ve found, is to be a student. I stand on a firm foundation of life experience and yet embrace what I don’t know — a balance that’s crucial to the capacity for learning.
(That same attitude, by the way, helps identify the judges and the preachers, neither of which much likes a student.)
These days, I’m engaged passionately in building an American Life on The Mountain with Deb. It’s simple, it’s rustic, it’s Country as cornbread and, on the surface, it bears no resemblance to what I’ve done for most of the last four decades. It might seem, then, that I must approach it from a place of complete ignorance and utter incompetence.
Not so.
I’m under no obligation to justify the Life I’ve lived, nor am I required to explain how the (apparently unrelated) disciplines in which I’ve achieved have prepared me for this moment on The Mountain. What I possess, whether conferred by Nature or by nurture, is the capacity to excel at whatever I choose to undertake.
I’m smart. I’m strong. I’m willing and I’m able.
Most important, I’m a student. I’m a lifelong learner, casting for teachers.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB