...Continued from 10
door looking into each other’s eyes. It was uncomfortable, but there was just no way to sum what we shared, or how it impacted our soul. Then, someone reached for the dented brass door knob and a surge of cold air rushed across our faces.
Meaning after Middle Age
I have finally had to face it. I will never be famous, I will never possess a place of national recognition: be President of the United States, or invent something of world significance like steam power or the cure for cancer. True, I am unique, as is every individual, but I am destined to be one of the faceless masses who will never date a supermodel, or grace the pages of a future high school history book. Twenty-two and fresh out of college, I charged into the world believing I had a date with destiny and would make just such an impact, but decades have worn off that veneer of optimism to find just a man; a plain man. So how does a man at 50 accept this circumstance without falling into despair or depression, thereby knocking himself out psychologically to all future possibility?
Michael Jordan and Charlie Chaplin possessed great skills that allowed them to reach the top of their respective fields. Their kinesthetic awareness allowed them awe inspiring control over their bodies that became legendary in the world of sports and comedy. These were impressive feats that played to their strengths and made them unique individuals to human history. For the rest of us, there is little choice in our culture but to recognize there is room for but one Hemmingway or Joan of Arc, and when you are not one in ten million with an office cubicle as the extent of your worldly contribution, accept your meager talents and position; right?
I’ve learned from personal experience, that if Michael Jordan or Charlie Chaplin were called on to orient themselves in a wilderness area, hopelessly lost, their skill set would more than likely prove useless in the situation. Being lost in a desert for example, requires a specific set of observational skills and experiences that raise your possible survival, while dispelling panic for calm choice. When I worked as a field archaeologist in Arizona many years ago, I may not have been the highest ranking member of a survey crew that was lost on assignment, but I had the common sense and presence of mind to stay calm. That choice could never be taught from a textbook. Once I spotted the professors were only feigning a clue about our whereabouts, I laughed as I noticed their inability to admit it. Still, I felt hesitant telling PhD’s about the location of their vehicle when they acted so confident, especially when it was embarrassingly obvious they were lost. Earlier that day, we had emerged from the car at 6:15 A.M. and I quickly oriented myself to the contours of the surrounding mountains and observed the travel arc of the sun. The purpose revisited me in the evening hours when it was time to go home and this simple system of observation determined my relative position to the truck. Disillusioned by rank, I decided to announce my belief in my ability to find our ride and asked them to trust my leadership. Predictably, they reacted in sneering doubt, but begrudgingly gave me a try as their legs grew tight and sore. A bit stunned, they watched as I calmly followed a contour along the low hills in the fading light ending directly at the truck passenger side door. The piercing silence was only broken by the creaking moan of the rusty door hinge. I could see it in their faces: how could a raggedly dressed underling show up years of book learning when all else was even?