Goal Setting In An Over-Informed World

Goal Setting In An Over-Informed World

My Pen Mates,

I once watched a Discovery feature on brain function and it had a segment on the Navy Seals and their mental discipline under the most dire mental and physical challenges. The trainers had a simple formula for molding these soldiers and the way they processed information: goal setting, repetition, self talk, and controlling fear. Straightforward, self- explanatory, and yes, simple. It's about envisioning an end result, convincing oneself about its singularity, and physically working hard to accomplish it with mental strength. Of course, the products speak for themselves so it's hard to argue about outcomes.

I don't believe any of the trainees necessarily knew their lungs' oxygen capacity while submerged, or the brain's threshold for pain endurance, or what light exposure durations can cause one to be physically disoriented, etc. What they go through is a physical programming to stay focused on a set goal, and engage all their training experiences in achieving it. In other words, they are conditioned to see the big picture and a path to reaching the target despite all obstacles, and oftentimes because of them.

This can be a daunting template for the civilian functioning out of barracks who has only self, family, friends, and teachers to cause such discipline to form. I am not saying that having those influences is not enough, just that the presence of rigor such as found in military training affords the important push to perfect the mold. Imagine a teen-ager who wants to grow up to be an engineer. Even with a proclivity towards the physical sciences, he will, in the course of pursuing his dream, find multiple media diversions that can actually be detrimental to his goal. He'll very likely be playing a lot of video games which has a lot of dexterity, judgement and calculation and "science" rolled into it by its developers. Whether spending countless hours playing these (as opposed to learning how the program is written or how the developers and editors imagine how the plays unfold), affects his goal outcome does fall under the "personal choice" clause of life; but it must be noticeable to others apart from me, that there is just an over-abundance of distractions nowadays that I truly believe that what's in jeopardy are the youths' ability to grow up to be anybody at all!

As it is, I already see a troubling trend in the number of undecideds and the undeclared late-teenage and early adult learners. Not to mention the endless major shifts and multiple-major smarts who do not know what to make of themselves but know that they are smart enough to be anybody. Again, to some, this is part of the gleaning process, a necessary attenuation to determine true personal interests. But what if such uncertainty holds back progress? That knowing too much deters risk-taking and blunts innovation through constant asking without seeking solutions?

No one can un-ring the bell of progress; we are where we are as a society because our predecessors worked hard to bring about all the technology we have access to __ literally at our fingertips. Those innovators had the singularity of purpose and the discipline to realize their visions. I submit that it was possible because they lacked the distractions that permeates our existence nowadays. There was no such thing as a multi-media experience not even a generation ago! Television was for entertaining and you learned by reading and attending lectures and sharing data in symposiums. Information sharing involved formal discussions and presentations where goals are formed and mental keenness was developed with the correct queries, not constant questions. This simple format reduced the information noise which distract the innovator from the goal. It took the physics out of riding the bike, and allowed the rider to reach his goal without needless considerations.

Then maybe perhaps the generational gap is far too wide for me to jump; that my questioning the new world order signifies that it has left me behind like my father was left behind by my generation. The new purity of purpose and goal-setting paradigm could just as likely lead to beneficial results beyond my imaginings as it can lead to the squalor of my fears. Who's to question that the current batch of innovators won't bring us to the next stage working in this information Babylon?

And then perhaps the Navy Seal formula will become obsolete too....

Mon

Optimism's Blind Eye

Optimism's Blind Eye

My Pen Mates,

I once read that "there's a limit to the number of sins you can hide with enthusiasm". While it's good to harbor a "positive mental attitude" and push away negative influences which drain the "chi" from the core, it's the wise who sees things for what they are and act with practical and common sense.

To the list of things I use as mantra, I've recently added "be humble" to "be simple"; and though that may be simplistic (pun fully intended), it's an effective handle when I need to pause, consider, and choose a path in that proverbial fork in the road. Being optimistic is a natural human trait; it allows us to laugh at whatever station in life we may inhabit, and find hope in the most dire situations that our lives are bound to cross. It's as instinctual as the desire to reach the surface when submerged, and akin to pulling away from a hot kettle upon contact.

Out of the blue I found myself polishing my dark shoes the other night. It wasn't in particular need of a shine, but I thought I'd feel better walking around with bright shoes (it's been a while). So I sat in the garage and worked toe to heel until the old shoe got a feel-good polish. That evening, my wife and I attended a Christmas party in the city, and as it turned out, rain fell all afternoon. On the way home, we had to pick up Angelica from one of her classmate's home. Some yard work was being done in the front yard and the homeowner cautioned us to watch the muck that's on the walkway, which at that time seemed minor.

It wasn't until the following day when I decided to wear to work my newly shined shoes that I discovered it had a mud ring which had dried to khaki brown all around the sole! I had to double back and asked my son to get me a wet paper towel to hastily wipe the gunk which has ruined the fine job I did just the night before. On the drive to work, I smiled to myself and reflected on the irony of these events. I chuckled at the lesson the whole thing made simple: when good things happen, we tend to take them for granted. There really is no lesson learned from experiencing positive things; it just re-enforces the habits which caused it to happen. It falls under the category of "good habits of successful people", not necessarily the discipline gained from enrolling in the "school of hard knocks".

It may be a stretch to connect these things, but to me, significant knowledge and achievements are bourne of adversity more than good fortune. The mind and body need to be challenged not pampered; bruised and battered not massaged and coddled; and yes, to some degree, abused not comforted.

I read recently that auto-immune disease is a first world phenomenon; that in less industrialized nations, it's practically non-existent. The thought behind this is that uber-hygienic societies tend to be more susceptible to disease-causing elements, and people have poorly developed internal mechanisms to combat disease and infection. As a result, the body's natural reaction for self-preservation attacks cells in the system at the first sign of deviation from norm. Whereas an "exposed" individual develops a tolerance buffer for infections and foreign flora and fauna which can inhabit the bodily system, the over-sanitized modern person tend to over-react to even the most minor threat to the physiological equilibrium. Thus, the body defender cells tend to attack even healthy cells at the first sign of malfunction, whereas inoculated individuals will have a system that can localize the threat, and use a bigger arsenal of antibodies to combat a wider range of systemic threat.

Drawing parallels with my premise, it seems that the pampered ego is more vulnerable when encountering a bump in the road, whereas the battered and bruised will have a higher tolerance for these glitches; perhaps even better programmed to withstand even bigger challenges.

What has any of these to do with optimism? As my first sentence states, there's a limit to the number of good that can come from just hoping for the best. Sometimes, the lumps and bruises are necessary to embed the truly important lessons. The lessons that stick, in my opinion, are those that leave a scar; they serve as reminders of those moments when you failed, when you felt hurt and neglected, where you find yourself promising that you're not going to let it happen again. These scars are worth far more than the trophies, medals, certificates, and awards that good fortune bring. All the latter sit on the mantle, the former, you wear.

Mon

"If I twist it this way...."

"If I twist it this way...."

My Pen Mates,

To rephrase a popular title, "The things I need to know, I learned from someone barely out of kindergarten".

It was a cold Wednesday morning; Angelica does Safety Patrol duty on Wednesdays and she needed to help set up the orange cones and man her post for the duration of the period prior to the first bell. It's a good volunteer activity, and they learn street and traffic safety in the process, so twice a week, we leave home early or come home later (for afternoon duties), so she can cover her shifts. So we are in the schoolyard before 7:35 this morning but Lauren wishes for me to stay instead of walking her to daycare. I happily obliged and parked fifty yards away from the designated drop-off area. From there, we can see Lica and the rest of the Patrol. I tried to explain what they were doing but before I could finish the sentence, Lauren interrupts "can I get out of my car seat?" Then she proceeded to explore the van's interior; first locating the positions of the heating vents and determining which buttons in the control panel caused which vent to blow the warm air. This was shortly followed with her exploring the various compartments in the dash, including the coin dispenser in the ashtray. Discovering that the slots were of varying sizes, she then sorted the loose change and informed me that the penny slot can hold five coins, and that a dime can go in the same slot because it's smaller than a penny. Then she kneels on the floor and slides the cover of the cd tray; she gives me a mischievous smile and asks if she can push the lit button. She perks up when the dispenser smoothly slides out, then went on ahead and pushed the levers on the side that eject individual cds. After some more fidgeting, she slides the dispenser tray back into the slot and pushes the cover back into place.

Thinking that there's not much left for her to fidget with, I took my eyes off her to try to see if I can spot Lica in the yard. Absently, Lauren puts both her feet on the front edge of the passenger seat, leans back, and lays her head on the dashboard. With her forehead nearly touching the windshield, I saw her look at the scapular that's hanging from the rear view mirror. I know she knows what it is; she sees it around Lucas and Lica's necks sometimes, and she knows that her Mom wants it there for "God to protect us". As she's wont to do, I expected her to ask the question that she already knows the answer to (just for the sake of keeping the conversation alive); but instead, she holds the iridescent images between her fingers and simply says "did you know that Mom likes this here so you know God is watching?". I murmured a yes and "that's right", happy that she appreciates the symbolism.

Faster than thoughts of paganism and symbol worship can cross my mind, she shifts from her perch on the dashboard, uses both her hands to grab the strings that suspended the scapular and says: "Did you know that if I twist it this way, you cannot see it? Like it disappears!". Sure enough, with the strings twisted, the scapular is hidden behind the mirror. She looks at me and held my eyes waiting for me to agree, and I realized how the child seem to have read my thoughts and in her innocence, demonstrated the simple truth about faith.

While it's easy to criticize those who pray to statues, images, and the likenesses of God, it is quite hard to ignore the powerful simplicity of a child's logic. An objective assessment of belief in a Higher Being certainly will not include an artifact to demonstrate His existence. And yet through a child's mind, the absence or presence of something involves the senses; that's how they first assess the world they inhabit.

I thought about this on the drive home, long after the bell rang and she got dropped off. If the image is hidden, then it was not watching me, and since I cannot see it, then there's nothing to remind me that I had someone watching over me. I'm certain Lauren's thought process skipped through this tortuous logic, but I am amazed that on a cold morning, a simple dialog with a child can jolt like java. It was a meaningful lesson in simplicity, and to me at least, it was an experience in kindness and humility; that though I'm old and calloused, I have yet to learn a lot.

Life seem to unfold in unexpected ways, and blessings come in many forms_ sometimes disguised. One of those blessings is our ability to forget; so wounds heal, and we continue to grow. But with forgetfulness comes loss, and innocence needs to be regained to truly appreciate life. Listen to a child today, and gain back some of that lost innocence. You might find, like I did, that when twisted a certain way, what we don't see may be something we cannot afford to forget.

Mon