I THINK, I CAN
Thursday Oct. 17, 2013
I’ve been asked to discuss my approach to solving a problem – by someone who can’t solve that issue in their life.
About a problem I won’t describe here – my point isn’t so much about the problem, but about process/approach. Whether or not my way will work for them when so many other ways have failed, this is not about 7 rules, 10 commandments, 12 concepts or 39 steps or processes – not about will or lack of it, not about intellect or lack of it, but about what drives us/me/he/she .. any of us, to succeed in our struggles, or not. I can’t seem to think my way through this for someone else, when I still struggle so much figuring it out for myself. Maybe that struggle – living it, feeling it, talking about it, writing about it – maybe, therein lies the key ~
Is it just hard work, determination, showing somebody – “there, SEE, I did it … !”.
Is it strong will that matters?
Is that what determines success in mounting obstacles, overcoming adversity and slugging through jungle trenches of struggle warfare?
Or is it, I think I can ?
Remember that childhood story, about the little train. I’m the little train. I don’t hang out with the big trains – but we’ve been in the station together before, we’ve met at crossroads and we’ve hauled our loads . . .
I’m in control of my train. Some days it seems like others are – customer needs and others can derail my best plans – but getting on track again is so much easier for a little train. Little trains are nimble. Little trains can stop, turn, turn-around more easily than big-trains.
I think I can.
There have been times when I thought, I can’t.
Not often.
That feeling has nothing to do with capability. It has everything to do with confidence.
Some might say arrogance. They would be part right.
Some might say ignoring important facts. They would be part right about that too.
But what is it that determines success vs. failure, continuing vs. quitting, persevering vs. falling by the roadside?
I like few things Newt Gingrich says, but I like this: Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.
Goethe said: In the real of ideas everything depends on enthusiasm … in the real world all rests on perseverance.
Best, I think, of so many wise words written on this subject are those of Henry Ward Beecher: The difference between perseverance and obstinacy is that one comes from a strong will, and other from a strong won’t.
I think I can. I know I can. In anything I try hard to do. That doesn’t mean I won’t be derailed a time or two, discouraged many times and apparently defeated many times, because I’ve learned that I will.
Each time I fail, I start again.
Each time I quit, I start again.
Each time I am on that edge of giving up completely – which has been rare (and painfully memorable), something pushed me back onto the better track, restored my energy and set me in a fresh direction toward a better goal or a better approach toward my destination or found a newer better destination.
The more I’ve failed, the better I’ve got (and, in good times, I think the more I’ve succeeded, the more complacent it made me).
Monkey on my back isn’t a monkey at all. It isn’t money or creditors, it isn’t family or lovers, it isn’t clients or bosses. It’s a middle-aged, out of shape and remarkable resemblance of myself. I’m my own monkey. Best friend and worst critic. Sitting there on my shoulder – more jailer than mentor sometimes, stopping me more than fueling me sometimes, holding me back as much as cheering me on.
Is that balance?
Maybe.
Is that something to be shed?
Maybe.
I think I can, every morning.
If, at the end of this day I’ve fallen short, then tomorrow I have to start the same way with I think I can.
I think, I can.
I think, I can.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can . . .
Mark Kolke
292,940
column written/ published from Calgary
morning walk: 3C / 38F, overcast, light breeze – sights so similar every day, morphing slightly each time so slightly every day, so much to enjoy. Gusta was happy to have a longer walk than usual, as is most of my body except for a creaky ankle …
