The Fable of the Foolish Fisherman

Once upon a time there was a fisherman who rowed his boat out into the middle of the lake every morning, and rowed it back to shore every evening. He spent a lot of time on that lake... and he never caught anything.

I blame his technique; I think he was missing something. You see, he never baited a hook or cast a lure. He just rowed out to the middle of the lake in the morning, and rowed back to shore in the evening. He was waiting for the fish to jump into THE boat.

To be fair, that had happened, once... a long time ago. A beautiful fish, and he'd simply sat agog while the fish flipped and flopped and eventually slipped back into the lake. Ever since, he'd been hoping that it would happen again; more, he'd been hoping that the same fish would jump back into his boat.

I tried to explain to him that the odds against such a thing happening once were enormous and that the odds of a repeat were astronomical, but he just shook his head and went about his business.

This fable is broadly applicable. It applies to how for most of my life I sought a companion, whether "for a while" or "for life." It applies to how many seek jobs or opportunities or understanding or hope. It's the "wait and see" approach and it assumes that if something is "meant to be," it'll happen and it doesn't matter what you do or don't do.

The thing is, the only way that fisherman is going to catch any fish is to take appropriate action. He can't just do any old thing; he's going to have to bait his hook or select a lure, he's going to have to cast his line into the water, and he's going to have to keep doing it.

Heck, if he does that he might even catch the one that got away. He probably won't, but it's a lot more likely than for that same fish to jump into his boat two times. And if he doesn't bait and cast, he'll keep coming ashore with nothing.

What I Did This Summer

It's been a good summer so far—I've been to Hawaii (which always does my heart good), I've been SCUBA diving (in Hawaii, off Catalina Island, and off Laguna Beach), I've done some important work around the house—and even as it's winding down it continues to be good; I'm getting good value out of almost every day.

Right now I'm sitting in a condo in Las Vegas waiting for my friends to wake up. I've been here since Wednesday, when I met up with friends Jennifer and Ricky (who came earlier and had some adventures of their own). I've been eating and swimming and singing karaoke and—because I'm determined this summer to make some changes in the way I meet the world—I've been practicing some new social skills, like exchanging smiles with a woman or letting myself be seen admiring one (my habit for most of my life has been to admire women surreptitiously: a quick glance, then look away so as not to seem "rude").

It all boils down to confidence, and mine is growing. And although the milestones may seem trivial to those for whom all this becomes second nature, for me each is a hard-won gem.

For example: While out and about yesterday I looked an attractive stranger right in the eye, smiled, and held eye contact until I received a beautiful smile in return. The fact that I actually held that is a fairly big deal to me (although since that's one of the things I've been practicing I have done it before), but what's a really big deal is that I did it without having to think about it and decide. I didn't consciously realize I'd done it until a few minutes later. I just did it (sorry, Nike). The lessons are sinking in.

I'm also learning to trust the positive things people tell me about myself (or how they perceive me). For me, this is huge. I've typically made self-deprecation my ground state, excusing and minimizing any compliment I was ever paid; the best I've been able to do is say, "I see your point, but..." And the use of the word "but" generally contradicts whatever was said before. A phrase like "I see your point, but..." essentially means, "Yes, but really 'no.'"

By doing this, I've essentially said to whomever paid me a compliment, "Thanks for the kind thoughts, but you must be deranged." How insulting, to tell someone who's paid you a compliment that you think they're crazy! (If I've ever done this to you, by the way, I apologize. It won't happen again.)

I'm getting much better about this, not only thanking those who pay me compliments without qualification, but (and this is enormous!) believing them.

So I'm growing. Not there yet, but on my way, and I'm happy with the progress I've made. It's exciting!

In fact, things are going so well that I've discovered what needs to come next (and I can start working on this right now). It's audacity—the boldness to act on impulse without too much concern for the endless chain of potential consequences which tend to paralyze me.

If I feel the impulse to put my hand on a woman's waist (not some random stranger's; give me credit for that much sense), I should; if I want to tease her or compliment her or hug her, I should. Not indiscriminately, not without some judgment, but boldly (and ready to accept correction with humor and good grace).

So what did I do this summer? I changed my life (and I'm not done yet)!

How about you; what did you do this summer?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad 2

Who'da Thunk?

I probably shouldn't blog when I'm depressed, and I'm depressed this morning. No particular reason; my depressions, while never formally diagnosed, seem to fit the model for the kind of depression caused by brain chemistry, rather than circumstance. I don't have any reason to be depressed; I just am.

I feel justified in blogging this morning because even though I am depressed this morning, my attitude about it is different (and better).

For some time now, I've had a pretty functional relationship with my periodic depressions. Experience has taught me that they are baseless, that they are endurable (though painful), and that they pass in time. All I have to do is wait them out, and they go away. I've learned to endure them. They still hurt and I don't enjoy them, but they are endurable and, at an intellectual level at least, I have come to terms with them. They don't rule or ruin my life; they just make some days difficult.

I noticed the tell-tale signs this morning: pressure in my chest and tightness in my throat, a dark mood, a sense of gravity dragging at my face... and as I thought to myself, "Oh, boy—here we go again," I also thought, "This is just depression. It can affect my feelings, but I don't think I want to let it affect my attitude any more."

My next thought was, "What was that?"

As I've explored this a little further, I'm finding that a side effect of my positive self-talk over the last couple of weeks (dealing with issues of confidence and self-esteem) is that I'm no longer so much at the mercy of my emotions. Yes, I still feel what I've always felt—whether fear or doubt or passion or joy or whatever—but the new habits of thought that are forming aren't shaken by my feelings the way my old thoughts were.

This is an unexpected side effect, but a nice one.

What I thought would happen is that over time I would be just a little bolder in social situations, a little braver, a little more outgoing. All that seems to be coming, though I'm not there yet. I never expected to gain some mastery over emotions that have always overmastered me.

Who'da thunk?

The Dividend

In practical, observable terms, the only difference is a few seconds. Just a few seconds' longer regard has made all the difference.

For years now, I've smiled at people I meet. Even strangers, even pretty women (two groups that have always intimidated me, "pretty women" most of all). I made a deliberate choice years ago, as part of my always-ongoing efforts to better myself, to meet the eye of those I met and smile. That's a good thing, right?

It absolutely is a good thing. The weird thing is, I never felt like I was doing any good—for myself or for the people I smiled at—by doing so. I never felt like it made any difference. I kept at it because philosophically I still believed it was a good thing, and because it had become a habit. But it felt like an empty exercise.

Until recently, that is. Recently I determined to be bolder—to "fake it 'til I make it" with respect to social self confidence—and part of that has been to hold the gaze of others. And lo and behold, I learned something I'd gone years without noticing.

When I meet someone's gaze and smile, they usually smile back!

I know, radical stuff there, huh? "Thank you, Captain Obvious!"

But I never knew.

I never knew because as soon as I'd smiled at someone, I'd avert my gaze. I don't know where it came from, but somewhere I got the idea that it was impolite to look a stranger in the eye for more than a second or so at a time, and I was embarrassed at the thought that I might get caught at it. I didn't feel like I had the right to look, especially at an attractive woman.

So I missed it. I missed seeing the consequences of my actions, of my smiles. I never saw them smile back. I never saw the obvious signs that my smile was welcome: that it made someone's day a little better, or lifted their spirits, or whatever it was that their smiles signified. I went for years thinking that my efforts to be pleasant were ultimately meaningless, and I was wrong.

All it took was a few seconds' longer look, and my whole experience changed.

No, not everyone smiles back. Occasionally, someone will scowl or frown or just remain blank-faced. That's the exception, though. I used to think it was the rule.

So another valuable lesson learned. A smile is an investment: pay attention for long enough to receive the dividend.

I have come to know...

That I am only fully accountable for the things I can control.

I've always had a good handle on this reality in some areas of my life, but in others it just hasn't sunk in. But it's sinking in now... and that's good news!

I am responsible for the consequences, both to myself and to others, of my decisions, but (assuming I act with reasonable consideration) I am not responsible for others' feelings and I am not responsible for the decisions others make. I am primarily responsible for my own feelings and actions.

This is empowering—it means that I have phenomenal power in the ambit of my own internal and external life—and liberating—the way others feel about and behave toward me (whether they like me or not, whether they join me in my endeavors, whether they treat me well or poorly) is their responsibility, not mine.

Like a lot of people, I have tended to carry the weight of others' feelings and expectations on my shoulders. I've tried to act to bring happiness to those I care about, and to meet their expectations for me. When someone who matters to me has been unhappy, or thought poorly of me, or acted in ways I knew were unhealthy or unwise, I have felt responsible; as if their unhappiness or poor perception of me or unwise actions were somehow my fault.

I have taken responsibility for things that are not my fault, and because I didn't like those things, I have not liked myself as much as I should.

But recently I have come to understand that it is right and proper and good to only take responsibility for things that are my responsibility: my own well-being, my own pleasure, my own emotional state, my own happiness, my own choices, my own joy.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." I've liked and admired that (obvious!) observation for a very long time, yet have failed to internalize it as I should.

This summer, my efforts are applied to personal empowerment and liberation as means of finding personal fulfillment. I am owning my shit and shedding as much as I can of the baggage that has hindered me. And it's going well! With apologies to Shakespeare:

"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer..."

Made glorious summer...

What I say, what I feel, what I do... these are my responsibilities. And I'm happy to take them. They're enough. Let others say, feel, and do what they think right and proper; that's their responsibility. I'm not going to worry overmuch about things that aren't my responsibility.

I'm going to enjoy my glorious summer...

Finally Learning the Lesson

It's important for me to remain motivated as I pursue the self-confidence I ought to have. It would be easy to stop affirming my worthiness before the confidence I articulate becomes an emotional habit. I want it to stick, however, so I'm constantly on the lookout for what improved self confidence will pay, and what the status quo has cost. The payoff is the carrot of my motivation, while the expense is the stick.

On the plus side:

• Confidence is attractive and sexy
• Confidence makes me more likely to assert myself; to go for what I want
• If I am confident in myself, others will have greater confidence in me

On the minus side:

• If I lack confidence, I don't pursue the things I want
• If I lack confidence, I expect the worst rather than the best
• If I lack confidence, I distrust others' interest and affection, even if declared and shown

I was contemplating that last one the other day, not to beat myself up over it, but simply to understand and be aware of it. It's been my bugaboo when it comes to relationships of a romantic nature.

Contrary to my own protestations I am not altogether inexperienced when it comes to relationships. I am relatively inexperienced, but I have had a few. In almost every instance it's been the woman who broke things off, but in retrospect I don't blame them. I think I understand the part I played in the way things turned out.

In just about every instance, the woman in question was (is!) a wonderful woman and a wonderful person. If I were to name names, those of you who know those women would agree that they are amazing and committed and true. In just about every instance, the woman sincerely cared about me and saw me as not just worthy, but worthwhile. Each worked to convince me, but I would not be convinced. Eventually, the effort became too great a burden.

Other times, I'd meet a woman, maybe we'd go out, I'd want to call them... but doubts born of a lack of confidence persuaded me that I shouldn't. I'm sure that I flushed a few opportunities down the toilet because of that.

It's like getting involved with an addict or alcoholic. It's one thing to support someone who is working on her/his recovery, but another thing altogether to live with someone who can't or won't try to save her/his own life. If I'd trusted any of them and worked to improve my own confidence, well... my life might have turned out very differently than it has.

But it's never too late, I guess. I've reached a tipping point, thanks in large part to another great woman I've encountered. I'm becoming as confident as I ought always to have been. I look back at those other relationships—failed, perhaps, but precious and valuable gifts nonetheless—and at long last the view is sweeter than it is bitter; far sweeter.

And looking forward, I see a brighter tomorrow. I finally feel what those wonderful women have been trying to tell me; that I am quite a catch. A dear friend, who is numbered among those wonderful women mentioned above, once told me that I was good at being in a relationship; I just wasn't very good at getting into one.

I think I'll be better at that, now. I'll probably be a little clumsy—I haven't had much practice, after all—but I won't be afraid, and I won't sabotage things.

This makes me smile.

Unnatural Number

(No, that isn't a typo; I didn't mean to type irrational numbers)

In mathematics, many strange classes and categories of numbers exist: irrational numbers, complex numbers, superreal and surreal numbers... and they fit within the universe of mathematics; they have their place. They have no place in my brain, but they still belong in the abstract reality of mathematics.

When numbering and counting things in nature, fewer classes and categories of numbers are useful. As a practical matter, enumerating things in nature involves just two numeric possibilities. You can have none of something—unicorns (sorry!), political scruples, circles with a ratio circumference to diameter = 3—or you can have more than one—narwhals, spoiled celebrities, stars.

What you can't have (or can't have for long) is one of something.

It's said that "nature abhors a vacuum" and that's just not true: look how much vacuum there is in the universe! What nature really abhors is uniqueness. In nature, for any class of things—any species, any class of celestial body, any geographic feature, any thing—there is either more than one of them, or there aren't any at all.

I'm not talking here about the kind of fine points that make each of us a unique treasure to others. I'm talking about the big stuff. One is a transitory number: If there's one of anything it won't be long before there's either more than one or there aren't any at all. One is an unnatural number.

The upshot of all this is simple, really: if you encounter one of something delightful and for whatever reason it doesn't come to you, do not despair. If there's one, there are almost certainly others.

I'm not saying why this makes me happy...

Patience My Ass...

According to Edmund Burke, "Patience will achieve more than force. It's been famously said that "All good things come to he who waits." They say, "Patience is a virtue." "Patience is the key to contentment," they say. And they might very well be right.


In the more ordinary sense (the sense of waiting without demanding that someone "hurry up, dammit!"), I guess I'm fairly patient. But because I am waiting for something, I am not exercising the kind of patience that 'achieves more than force,' or 'brings all good things,' or 'is the key to contentment.' My problem is the expectation that some specific thing(s) will come to me if I wait.

But I think patience is more than waiting. Patience is waiting without expectation; patience is waiting without waiting for anything.

A lot of things are worth waiting for. But there's more than one kind of waiting, and the kind where you passively sit, expecting what you desire to magically appear, is useless. When you engage in that kind of waiting, you're expecting the world to give you what you want because you "deserve" it, or because "it's only fair," or maybe because you bought into the "All good things come to he who waits" propaganda. And the world just doesn't work that way.

Vultures are famous for their waiting... but the cartoon above, one of many renderings of the same idea, suggest that it's possible to have too much of even so good a thing as patience.

And while there are many quotes, proverbs, and aphorisms extolling the virtues of patience, there are some that take a contrary position:

"Patience is good only when it is the shortest way to a good end; otherwise. impatience is better."
"Patience under old injuries invites new ones."
"He preacheth patience that never knew pain." H. G. Bohn

Patience my ass...