Instrument

Some days I think I am an instrument upon which God beats, like a drum.

When I entered my teens, I used to feel overwhelmed by the sensations, perceptions and information I absorbed and learned about a place or people when I encountered it for the first time. There was so much to see and know. I could intuitively feel the strong emotions that people (who were unknown to me before that) felt and sometimes what they were about to say. There was often a big difference in what they said and what they felt. This would manifest in their behavior later on.

I would get frightened by this and tell my mom and she'd comfort me and help me be more at ease in the world. I wondered how this awareness would help in any way.

This I know now is an ability. Today I am at the point where I have lived long enough that I can stand squarely on the ground and not be afraid. I understand people better and realize too that many of these things are passing feelings and sensations. It is interesting now and more of a experiment against what actually unfolds.

Also the great mystery of what life is and what I must do with mine has come back to me and fills me with joy and an eagerness to explore and learn. Discovering who you are with all your abilities and expressing them is both fun and purposeful. It is electric and energizes to action. Anything is possible.

272 Words Is Enough

Did you know that the Gettysburg address was only 272 words? Abraham Lincoln could fit a rousing inspiring message that got an entire army to fight for what they believed in and to remind them of why they were fighting in the first place. Amazing, isn't it?

When I was twelve, I memorized the speech for my first debate. I had to pick a President's speech and I chose Lincoln's because I loved making paper impressions with pennies as a four-year-old and that had left a nice, indelible memory in my mind. I did not know what the speech was about at the time but I liked how dignified Lincoln appeared. My brother prepped me for it as I was quite shy at the time and usually had my head in a book. I remember I read the speech really fast and then said, "Can I go back to my book now?"

He told me, "But there's no feeling. You just rattle it off too fast." I thought at the time that it was an insult to the audience's intelligence to slow down. I could not understand why anyone would willingly be slow. Slow was torture. I loved the words. They were so perfect in and of themselves. What else did you need? My mind instantly drifted away to possibilities...I thought that was enough - more than enough. I had already recited the words aloud; the listener did not have to go and find the book and discover it. In a way, I felt sorry for them because they just lost out on the fun of discovery. My brother explained to me however that people all learn differently and that they would actually much prefer if I engaged and showed emotion. He told me I should care more about what people got out of what I was saying than just the words alone. I didn't like it at first but then it made sense to me.

Even today when I lapse into that habit sometimes and go super fast on sharing an idea, his words pop into my head and then I slow down. I usually see a glimmer of understanding on the listener's face and instantly, we both are more connected. We form a rapport. I wait for understanding. The other person shares their thoughts and feelings about what I just said before I share my next idea. It's just a simple thing to do, but a world of difference and really, as my brother taught me, "Your goal isn't just to say these words, it's to be heard."

So here's the 272-word Gettysburg address that Lincoln delivered with emotion, with understanding and with infinite patience. :)

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. 

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate -- we cannot consecrate -- we cannot hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

- President Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863