As Judy’s plane descended into San Diego, she was aware of a dad talking to his little boy about the process of landing. Perhaps this was the boy’s first flight, and explaining about the plane slowing down and then hitting the ground with its tires would reassure the youngster. Dad made brief comments as the plane came closer and closer to touchdown. Finally, everyone felt the wheels hit the tarmac.
“He did it, Daddy. He did it,” squealed the boy, clapping his hands with delight.
I have liked the Sinatra song “My Way” for years. Unfortunately, the words, my way, have been co-opted in a phrase not meant to be positive—my way or the highway! However, I find satisfaction in words that reinforce my feelings of accomplishment and self-value. This, despite the fact that, for me and for most of us, our “way” has been aided time and again by mentors, parents, spouses, friends, etc.
But, whatever any of us does reflects the uniqueness of our individual capacities and humanity. My way is not, and never could be, exactly your way.
These days, it is the verb that stands out for me. I did it. Not I thought about it. I acted.
My recent work with Ed.D. students at the University of Hawaii has promoted my further thought about action. The program seeks to prepare students for “leadership in social justice.” That emphasis piqued my curiosity about notions of social justice. So I read a little.
How social justice has been defined and understood has varied. A consistent thread, however, is the necessity of social action. To value ideas about equality and upholding the dignity of each individual means little if not accompanied by action. Acting on one’s belief: Judaism, Islam, Christianity, as well as secular theorists about social justice, echo each other on this point.
A favorite verse in the Bible (one used by two Presidents as they swore the oath of office) stipulates three requirements set down by Jehovah. The first is to do justly. Understanding what that means has filled books of philosophy and religious teaching. But the verb is clear. Do.
People of a Certain Age, is not the best way to understand what a person believes to look at what that person does?
You can tell me you are willing to take risks, try new things. My friend who, in her 70s, skydives shows me that she does.
You can tell me about the importance of offering aid to help the people of Haiti who have suffered devastation through earthquakes and hurricanes. My friends’ son has gone to Haiti to serve those in need; he has shown me.
You can tell me what you believe, and I might be impressed. You can show me what you have done, your values in action, and I will believe you.
Teddy Roosevelt once said that the man (read “person” in 2016) to be admired was not the critic or the spectator but the one in the arena. Nike has sold millions of shoes urging people to “just do it.”
If only doing was that easy!
You and I are blessed and burdened by capacities to think and feel. It is usually good for us to think before we act. Can we not also think our way out of worthwhile action because we worry that the costs are too high or the outcomes too unpredictable?
Feelings, too, affect doing. If fear is the default feeling, cannot fear of rejection or criticism or injury check action? Which of us chooses to stand out in a crowd to stand up for something we value? And then backs that up with action?
As a part of a booklet for student leaders, Dr. Kent M. Keith, in 1968, wrote “The Paradoxical Commandments.” The first line of each commandment states the challenge. The second line, in various ways, says “do it anyway.” The last commandment, for example, is “Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world your best anyway.”
Finding the will to do, to act in the face of whatever dangers or hurdles there might be, including those in one’s own mind, is an act of courage. There are among us people who perform daily acts of courage. Veterans Day reminds us of one such group.
You can question my courage, but one thing I probably will not do is to jump out of a plane. I bear an inbred fear of moving at high speed toward the ground and no special reason to overcome that fear.
I wonder if the pilot on Judy’s plane, even with all the training and experience, has the same fear. Did that pilot, when the plane rolled to a stop on the runway, say quietly, “I did it?” Aren’t we lucky that, as we move through our lives “our way,” there are pilots to land our planes?
Daniel E. White
November 14, 2016