Philosophies of life and death are worth debating; on these hang eternity. Philosophical wranglings of other natures whether they be of political thought, art forms and the like are not worth the temporal stress or satisfaction that they may bring. The Preacher says that they are vanity. Such may be much weariness of the flesh. When you open your mouth, have something meanigful to say.
Alfred Russel Wallace, naturalist and social activist tells of his experience once upon observing an Emporer Moth as she was amidst breaking free of her cocoon. The creature appeared to struggle relentlessly with much effort. Thinking to play demigod he took his scapel and cut away the cocoon to free her. Thinking that he would offer succor to her, she became listless, and lethargic. Moreover, her wings were pale and did not offer the color and the beautiful and unique patterns towards the splendour of her species. At the time, the great man did not realize that her color pallet and décor were ordain by the Creator to be born out of her very struggle to break free. Their beautiful and uniqueness were from their capillaries breaking and staining their wings by their very struggle.
Do you know that we are carefully and painfully marked and painted by our struggle? Our unique beauty is skillfully crafted by our failures and our crashes. Imagine how less beautiful a life that Mother Theresa of Calcutta would have lived had she had not flung herself amidst the lepers? Nor be Edison’s toiled failures for his first bulb?
People must suffer in development; we must allow them to feel the bumps and bruises of their tenderfooted trials until they grow from glory to glory. We tear and of want rush to rescue but dear one, let them be. Let them grow and be forged by the fiery trials of venture.
What are some ways that you use opportunity to teach and succor during trials without interfering?
The Not So Secret Path to Greatness
by: The John Maxwell Company
The young girl skipped onto the stage of the dilapidated, half-filled theater hall, her thin voice competing with the noise of an unruly audience. Midway through the first verse of her first song, a beer bottle smashed onto the floor just a yard or so in front of her. The child’s voice quaked momentarily, but she continued to sing. “The show must go on” mentality had already been ingrained in her. As she neared the end of the musical number, the girl struggled to find enough breath to finish her performance. The smoke-filled air reeked of cigarettes and made it especially hard to sing. The girl missed a couple of notes as the song ended, curtsied, and then made her exit to a mixture of applause and boos.
When we think of Academy-Award winner Julie Andrews, we picture her twirling, arms outstretched against the beautiful backdrop of the Austrian Alps—melodiously singing the opening stanzas of The Sound of Music. Whether as Maria Von Trapp or Mary Poppins, Andrews sings and acts so effortlessly that it’s tempting to assume that she was born a star. It’s easy to overlook her humble beginnings, the years she spent as a child touring with vaudeville troupes, performing in seedy auditoriums in front of rowdy, working-class crowds in Britain.
We imagine ultra-successful individuals being endowed with almost superhuman talents. In so doing, we surround greatness with a certain kind of mystique and deem it somewhat inaccessible to the average person. However, success is not contingent on having extraordinary, innate ability. Nor does greatness depend upon some mysterious approach to life. There are no secrets to success—only simple truths, principles, and disciplines that have been around for thousands of years. Sadly, we obscure the reality of success by making a number of misjudgments about it.
Please allow me to get a little personal.
F W Boreham said, “We all possess far more riches than we enjoy; we are surrounded by wealth that we do not trouble to exploit”
My thought here is we must trouble to send some a needful person’s way. Silver and gold have I none sir, but I give thee myself. It may be paltry, but there must be a soul that I could lift.
Blessings for a weekend.
John Constable was an English Romantic painter. Born in Suffolk, England he is known principally for his landscape paintings of Dedham Vale. There is a famous story that says Henry Fuseli, a painter and a keeper of the Academy was seen one day so enrapt in contemplation in one of Constable’s beautiful works. The piece represented an English landscape in the drizzling rain. Lost in his rapture to all around him he became so drenched in the fantasy of the moment, he suddenly put up his umbrella. Wow, that’s palpable.
Can we say that the art of our work invites the fantastical to our patrons? Is your passion so profound that you shake heaven and earth? That you make each transaction remarkable? If not, you may be practicing the wrong art. Make some changes.
There is a Christian principle that will bring tremendous merit to our vocational life. The art and discipline of bearing one another’s burdens. Oft, we marvel at our little burdens; it is innate. Little children collect things and carry them around the house. Thomas Guthrie tells in his autobiography how as young lads they would delight to bound out to the village roads to carry the rifles of the soldiers on the march to meet Napolean, staggering in the summer heat. The haggered and weary soldiers would delight to cede their burdens even for a little bit.
No matter the role, we all have luggage to carry at times. Team members must learn to share the load for the greater good. While this is largely present in new start-ups, where people’s very existence depends upon sharing the load, it may become a spectre of yesterday once the wheels begin churning out the bread, the ideas, the widgets. Don’t forget our lessons from sharing our luggage….of sharing our burdens. Remember that teamwork and burden-sharing are a part of brilliant success.