- Comes from Wanting the Best for Someone Else
I once had a mentor who cared enough to tell me I wasn't good enough. When I didn't believe I was shown the truth and when I was told I saw a greater potential than I'd ever dared to dream.
This is for that mentor...and the many more who have influenced my life.
A man paints a picture. It's a picture of a world that only he seems to see. There are many who try to keep him from painting, but still he paints. He seems older than he did moments ago when he started the painting. Maybe more tired. He worries that he won't be able to finish it on time. His colors are amazing, his clarity unbelievable. When you watch him paint you see a determination that few people bring to anything in their lives. When you approach and try to ask him what he is doing, he doesn't hear because he is so rapt up in concentration. The world around him seems gray as it flies by. The outside world seems less real than his painting.
As he paints people into his picture, happy people, you see a small tear run down his face. The people in the picture seem happier than you could ever be. They seem to have a better life than you. In fact, theirs' is the life you might wish for your own children, or even yourself.
You start to cry because you realize that nobody can see you - that you're safe, and that this picture makes you hurt in a place that you dare not go, or talk about with anyone. And yet, you realize that this moment, that this picture will stay with you forever and somehow you find that comforting. As you look around, you realize that no one around can see you and this man whose shoulder you're looking over. They seem too distracted to notice you. When you walked up to the man people avoided you and moved out of your way, but now they walk through you, as if, in some way, you are leaving their world and entering another. The man's features, even from behind, take on a clearer focus. You realize that you are listening and paying attention harder than you ever have in your life, because you are about to discover something. The man seems to grow younger right before your eyes and you seem to feel wiser and more distant from the self-centered, “problem of the moment” cares that clouded your thoughts just moments ago.
The man finishes, and for the first time, he realizes that you are with him. He seems surprised to see you looking at him. He asks you if you can hear him. You say "Yes, of course!" and ask why he would ask such a silly question.
He smiles and then turns to the masses of people moving around him and screams at everyone…and goes unnoticed. "Does my question seem silly now?"
"I guess not," you say. "Is this real?"
"For you it is. For them it is too. I've been screaming for a long time, but nobody's heard me for awhile. That's why I started to paint. I grew bored when nobody wanted to listen. This was the only thing that kept me believing."
"Believing in what?" you ask.
"Believing in what I knew to be true; believing that people had forgotten how to live; believing that we could all enjoy life a little more. When nobody listens to you, the easiest thing to do is doubt yourself. You find yourself standing in a stream facing the wrong way and it feels like the easiest thing to do is to turn around and let the stream carry you. Funny thing happens when you do that though. The ride becomes so soothing, that it lulls you to sleep. Have you ever gone to the ocean?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever swim in the ocean, or body surf and ride those huge powerful waves?" he asks.
"Yes."
"When you go home after that, or fall asleep shortly after that, you feel like your being rocked. That's what it feels like when you turn around and ride that stream."
You say, "If it feels so good, why did you stop yourself? Why did you keep yourself from riding?"
"I used to ride. I suppose that I did that for a long time. The only problem was that I kept waking up feeling like I was losing something. Feeling like I was further away from the truth. The more often I started to wake up, the more I realized I had to fight to get back upstream - to get to where I was before I fell asleep. It got to a point where I stayed facing upstream and kept pushing. Do you know what I found when I reached the top?"
"No, what did you find?" you ask.
"I found contentment. I found myself never wishing I had spent more time with my wife or children. I found that I didn't care about the things I gave up that would have impressed other people. A lot of people don't do things for themselves; they do them for all of the people around them. I found out that I didn't want to be all the people who were lying in the stream asleep."
"When you were painting, you started to cry…why?"
"I was crying for the person who this picture is about."
"Why?"
"Because they have never known how bright their life could be and I have seen how bright it could be. They have never known what an inspiration they could be to their friends, family, and their children. I have seen them wake up from the stream and try to fight. They've fought harder than most I've ever seen, but they keep falling back. I've tried to grab onto them many times. I've pulled so hard that I left bruises on them and they looked at me like I was the enemy. They would then be pulled too strongly by the people going the other way and fall back in."
"What happened to this person?" you ask.
"They're still alive and still trying."
"How do you know they're still trying?" you ask.
He stares at you for a moment, smiles, and then says to you, "Isn't there a better question you're dying to ask me?"
You are surprised because he seems to be able to read your mind. You think for a moment and then say, "Who is the picture about?"
He pauses, smiles, and with a small tear of joy in his eyes, he says "You!"
You don't know how much time has passed, you don't know if you've been laughing or crying, but you find yourself alone with the picture. You look around because you feel that the man has left, but he is now staring over your shoulder. You say, "But this isn't me. I've never been this happy."
"That's you there," he says pointing to the grown adult who is obviously the parent, "not there," and he now points to the child.
It all seems clearer now. You realize that your life isn't about what you've done, or accomplished. It isn't about the pain and suffering you've endured. You're not feeling sorry for yourself anymore, because now you know. You know what you can become and that what you were is nothing anymore. Your thoughts drift back to the man. He isn't like anyone you've ever met. "Will I meet more people like you?"
"Now that you know how to look, you will. Don't get me wrong, they're not very common, they never have been. That's where most people make a mistake. A lot of people like to think that there used to be more. They like to believe that the world used to be a better place, but that's just people feeling sorry for themselves, because they don't like where they are now. The world hasn't changed much. It might be getting a little more competitive, but with more competition, comes more people realizing that they don't have to compete so it all balances in the end."
"I guess that makes sense." You think for awhile and finally your last question hits you like a lightning bolt. "WHO ARE YOU?"
"I am your teacher, and I have been waiting for you for a long time. I'm glad you're here with me!…and I hope you'll stay."
This may not be reprinted or published without the permission of the author (Mike Klugman)
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