When I was a young man my
fellow Spark Plugs in the Jaycees were infatuated with what I think they called
Thought Patterning. The technique discouraged
negative thinking, and there was far more emphasis on positive thoughts as a route
to success. You kept your mind on
getting a great job, for example, and it somehow came your way, because
imagining success motivated you to accomplish little deeds that added up to big
results. Of course, we were young and had a narrow understanding
of success. We wanted money, frankly, more than we wanted to find a purpose or to build a life upon our strengths. I was nearly forty years of age before I
began to see that real success could happen only when I dug deep in order to
know myself, then set reasonable goals and worked toward them. What I labored for was just as
important. My goals weren't always worthwhile.
Sometimes they were selfish and benefited no one else.
I'll admit Thought Patterning
made some sense to me in those years.
That was before I learned I couldn't control the future. I might
try to accomplish many things, but the results were often out of my
control. That took a while to sink in.
Of course, the idea of
thinking your way to success is fraught with controversy. You may not be surprised to learn that
billions of people don't believe you can have what you want by simply imagining
it.
On Amazon's website, a book
that promised astounding career results was dealt this comment by an unhappy
buyer: "The publisher of this book should have their right to publish
revoked. A colossal waste of money."
But anyone has a right to empty dreams, both publishers and those who
would try to achieve their dreams by reading a book.
Somewhere in my young
adulthood I also discovered that native ability trumped wishes every time. There are people walking the earth with
amazing special talents and I am not one of them. When I finally came across
true genius, I was stunned to see how it overshadowed my ordinary
abilities. I got over my disappointment,
however, and was relieved to finally understand why some men and women
comprehended so much more than me and understood ideas so much faster. They are the
brilliant ones who see concepts in their mind's eye as clear and bright as
jelly beans in a crystal wine glass, while I squint to see meaning as if
peering through a glass of day old tea.
Grateful to know my role on
earth was not to explain everything to everyone, I settled down to live with my comparative
dullness. I began to ask questions,
instead of always assuming I knew the answers. That's when I began to get a tiny bit
more intelligent. It's been going slowly.
I'll never be a real genius, but
if I live to be about 112, I might get pretty smart and become a Life Coach.
