stone savage

John Nash: Hello, Martin.
Martin Hansen: Jesus Christ.
John Nash: No. I don’t have that one. My savior complex takes a different form.”

I recently made the mistake of trying to prevent someone for whom I deeply cared from making what I believed was the mistake of a lifetime. I gallantly threw myself under the spiked wheels of self-sacrifice and made mince-meat out of my own sanity just trying to save her from herself.

The problem was, she had no desire to be saved and it just did not occur to me, as I lay there looking like Texas roadkill, that any rational person would disregard the warnings thousands of people have given just to see if maybe they were all wrong - or to not even care if they were, and to simply want to experience it all first hand. Obviously my friend was in far more need of my help than I ever thought - so I braced myself for what would apparently end up being the mother of all altruistic self-mortifications.

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Imagine my surprise when I found out that plenty of completely rational people think just like my friend. Yes, that’s right - these would be the people who do not look at life as an opportunity to learn and grow (as I do) so much as they see it as a medium for experiences.

Did that conjure the same image for you as it did for me? Did you imagine the difference between this guy and this guy? Yeah, me too. I mean, don’t these people understand the difference we’re talking about here?! That difference was what echoed in my skull as my friend tried convincing me in vain that she had any right whatsoever to lead her own life. Since when did we trust young people with youth?

I could not get over the audacity she had to insist I must come to accept that it was not a crime for her to disregard precedent. My sensibilities went into an absolute fit. I wanted to scream at her, “There is a reason we are not reinventing the wheel today and it has nothing to do with not wanting to experience what it is like to reinvent the wheel!” Hrm. That sounded better in my head than it does in black and white. Oh well, you get the idea, right?

I mean, are we not all aware of the rule that tells us we learn not just from our own mistakes and successes but also from the mistakes and successes of those who have gone before us? Surely everyone knows this rule; it is the whole concept of parenthood, older siblings, and mentors! Indeed it is the grandfather clause of all civilizations! But as it turns out, no, not everyone does know that rule - and more astonishingly than that, the rule does not seem to apply to everyone. Who would have thought that?!

So here’s the thing - it seems young people are actually allowed to do whatever they want with their own lives even if it goes against what we want for them! Can you believe it? What genius made that decision? Just because those of us who made mistakes in our youth now know better today is no reason for us to allow young people from making their own mistakes so they can one day know better, too, right? I mean, really, who do they think they are going out there trying to live their own lives and refusing to subject themselves to our arrogances, dictates, or pressures?

Hell of a concept isn’t it? Do any of us who want so desperately to guide those for whom we care realize the damage we do when we insist on our opinions being all that matters? Do we understand the situation we create when we do not constantly - in almost every situation they face, keep our opinions to ourselves unless asked for it? If we are not very careful, we will end up unintentionally influencing (read that as manipulating) the situation in such a way as to end up causing much more harm than good.

This brings to mind a very vivid image of who my father was to me during my youth. My father is a deeply intellectual and extremely philosophical man. His wit, wisdom, and intelligence is ever present and always comes through whenever he speaks on a topic. As a young person he seemed to me a man of few words, and what I thought was just an unfeeling constant aloofness I realize now was nothing more than an amazing strength of will. You see, my Dad was extremely careful never to let his daughters know one way or the other what he thought or felt about any decision he watched us make while we were becoming adults - whether we struggled with them or not.

With very rare exception he kept his counsel when it came to the decisions we needed to make unless we asked him directly for his thoughts. Yet, even when we asked him for his opinion, he carefully chose his words so that what he conveyed, if he chose to convey anything at all, was always framed within the context of how best we could achieve our stated goal rather than in whether we should be pursuing the goal in the first place.

To give you an idea of what I mean - when it came to who his daughters dated, he liked few of our choices but never let us individually know. I remember once asking him why he did not intervene in what the rest of us felt was an emotionally abusive relationship in which my sister was embroiled. My father took a few moments to think, set his jaw, and said only “there may in fact be someone for everyone in this world; who am I to say that he isn’t the right one for her?”

Until just very recently I do not think I ever fully appreciated exactly how difficult that must have been for him to say. He was talking about his first-born child after all, and there was no question that her difficult relationship was very negatively effecting her. I am quite sure Dad had an opinion, but it did not occur to me he could not possibly bring himself to speak it to me. Although I was not the subject of his thought, there was always the risk I could take his opinion and internalize it toward an end result that had me living my life for his approval rather than for my own happiness. That was not a risk he was willing to take.

All those years ago we sisters did not think ourselves all that blessed with this man of infrequent and cryptic words. On many occasions we actually lamented what we called his lack of “involvement” in our lives. Today, however, I often consider how the “void” we felt back then forced us to make our own decisions about who we were going to be and how we were going to get there. His purposeful silence as he lingered in the background waiting for us to need him made us need him less and less each day.

We ended up learning how to accept consequences with dignity, we found the discernment to know why integrity was more important than popularity, and we came to understand there was as much value in failure as there was in success if we would allow ourselves to learn from our mistakes rather than be beaten by them. Today when I consider the high levels of confidence; the strength of character; and the incredible depth of introspection each of his three daughters possess, I realize we could not have had a better father or a better preparation for life’s trials.

Whether you are family member or friend to someone who is eagerly awaiting a chance to experience a mistake - you really just have to let them do it. It is the whole point of life and becoming who are you meant to be, is it not? Don’t we all take our wobbly first steps and thrash around not quite sure we’re doing the right thing and getting ourselves frustrated until we finally start to get the feel of things? Don’t we stumble a lot until we finally understand what is like to put one foot confidently in front of the other? One day all that practice allows us to run, and after that the sky is the limit.

In like kind, the biggest gift we can give our friends and loved ones as the wheels of life carry them forward, is the gift not of self-sacrifice in unasked for rescues; but rather in a quiet self-restraint. If only I had thought of that I might not have ended up smothering a very meaningful friendship to death with my panicked helpfulness.

For what it is worth, the lesson here was learned. See? I even have the splinters to prove it. Maybe my father has some advice on how best to remove them…

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