I had a meeting yesterday where talk eventually turned to the story of the woman on a plane recently, who was seated between two (in her judgement) large people. And she was not happy. She ranted, raved, called them names, and was just downright nasty. To the point where she was eventually removed from the plane and put on another flight.

The two people with whom I was meeting are larger people than me, and this really touched a nerve with them. I had no idea the judgment that people face because of their size. I sometimes do, because I’m smaller than many people. But they apparently have been criticized, shamed, and ridiculed because of their size.

And that’s not right.

What brings people to the point where they feel compelled to be mean to others?
It takes just as much energy – heck, probably less energy – to be kind. I have no idea what you are going through. I have no idea what your life is like. Why on earth should it matter to me what size you are, or what you’re eating, or what you’re doing? As long as it doesn’t affect me or my loved ones (for example, I draw the line at driving while impaired…) it’s your life. Live it!

So why can’t we live and let live? If I want to live my life without judgment, then it seems reasonable to think that I should not judge others. We’re all humans. We’re all presumably trying hard. why not assume the best, rather than the worst?

I felt terrible for these 2 colleagues. To face that vitriol – apparently, multiple times for each of them? – must be so demeaning. I can only hope that the lessons from Mr. Rogers are learned by all…

I was doing a Calm Challenge meditation on self-forgiveness this morning, and identified one of my past professional and personal failures as what I really need to forgive myself for. One of the elements was identifying what led to what you needed to forgive yourself for. That’s a hideously constructed sentence, but what it boiled down to for me was, what led to the decision to leave a job that (in hindsight) was a reasonably good fit for me, take a job halfway across the country, move my family, and cry the whole way there because I thought I might be making a mistake? It turns out that it was… fear of failure.

The reason I left that job was because I kept getting recommendations from senior faculty to delay my tenure case. My whole professional life, since I started my PhD, tenure had been the goal. I wanted to do research and work in academia- the setting where I have always felt most comfortable, most at home. And here were the experts telling me that I wasn’t there yet. That I was not meeting the benchmarks that kept evolving over time. And I was terrified at the idea of failing at my main professional goal.

That fear of failure led to me, essentially, choosing to run away. To a city, a job, and a life that was not for me. Not for us. In the process, I nearly lost my marriage, my professional identity, and any self-confidence that I had built up (slooowllly) over a long period of time.

And yet. Looking back now. I made the (bad) choice. We moved. I tried the new job. I hated it. I hated the city. I disliked being so close to my family again. I wanted to be back in the plains, fields, and rolling bluffs of the Midwest. I was so desperate to get out, once I got in, that it was almost comical. Talk about a wake up call.

And now, now I know. I know that I had to fail in that other position to get where I am today. I had to leave what I thought was an ideal situation to find one that’s an even better fit. I had to leave a place I loved – a place I thought I’d be forever – to realize that maybe I should try to spend forever somewhere else.

If I hadn’t made that choice? If I hadn’t failed? I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be as focused, as productive, and as happy as I am today.

I now, finally, can see that horrible choice – that misstep – as an opportunity to hit the reset button. To, as the quote says, begin again, this time, more intelligently. I know myself better now. I think my marriage is starting to recover. And I am happy. I also know that “forever” might not be the best option – and that’s okay! I might leave here someday, for another opportunity. But I also know that when and if I do, it will not be because I feared failure. It will be because I see another, better opportunity elsewhere. A better fit. And that’s amazing.

Hard lessons? Absolutely. But necessary ones.

I was all set to write about how Per Aspera Ad Astra is my phrase of the year – to with “seek”, my word of the year. While I don’t think I have necessarily navigated hardship, as the phrase indicates, this speaks to me because of the shift from the negative, the hardships (to whatever degree we all face them) and the shift to reaching for the stars. Moving towards the positive – finding the good and celebrating it.

It’s astonishing how, when you land on an idea or word or thought that becomes your guide / intention, how you start to see it everywhere.

And, in honor of Mary Oliver, who died yesterday (1/17/2019), I realized that one of her poems speaks directly to this intention of mine for 2019. What better way to honor her and celebrate her, than to read and savor these words? She brought so much light into the world – I can only hope that I am able to reflect just a tiny bit of it in my own life.