The
Little Things
In
Plato's "Phaedo," Greek philosopher
Socrates proposes that all knowledge
is really recollection, and
as such we are born with all
the knowledge we will ever have.
In essence we then spend the
rest of our lives trying to
remember what we already know.
If my daughter is any indicator,
Socrates was absolutely right.
At only twenty months she is
wiser than any adult I've ever
known and she has already taught
me the most profound life lessons
I've ever learned.
Like
most great teachers she began
by gradually winning my trust,
drawing me in, opening me
emotionally. Coy smiles, outstretched
arms, kisses for daddy - I
never even noticed that I
was changing. Then one day
while watching a Hallmark
card commercial where a daughter
gives her aged father a birthday
card I suddenly found myself
sobbing uncontrollably. Now
I can count on one hand the
number of times in my life
I've cried that haven't been
related to a family death,
severe emotional distress
or extreme pain. I am not
the sort of guy who cries
over sappy television commercials
or happy endings. Well, I
didn't used to be.
Then,
a few weeks later, I was on
my way to a show and listening
to a radio story about a woman
who had lost her two daughters,
6 and 8, in a car accident.
She described in painful detail
the horrific moment when her
husband heard the news that
his little girls were gone.
He dropped to his knees and
plaintively screamed their
names. I had to immediately
pull off to the side of the
road and wait until the overwhelming
wave of emotion released me.
The mere thought of such a
tragedy so shook my core that
even before the tears stopped
I called my daughter on the
cell phone. It shakes me now
even remembering.
Once
she knew that I was emotionally
ready, she began to teach
me about the true nature of
happiness. Like most people
I have always looked towards
the future for my happiness.
Happiness was just around
the corner, one week away,
that one big check written
out to me for a million dollars.
My daughter knew differently
and her approach was simple
- she just kept amazing me.
Every day would come a multitude
of little joys - a word she'd
never said before, the first
time she crawled, an unprompted
kiss or hug. Each time something
would happen I'd think, "It
can't get any better than
this." Then a few minutes
later she would do something
else and I'd realize it could.
By the end of the day I was
so overwhelmed with the cumulative
joy of these little individual
moments that I would be ready
to burst with delight. That's
when I understood: happiness
is not that one check for
a million dollars, but rather
the gathering of these little
pennies every moment of every
day that when tallied far
surpass the million dollar
mark.
She
knew I was ready for the larger
lessons - it was time to show
me the true meaning of unconditional
love. I had always understood
it intellectually but she
helped me to truly learn it,
to completely understand it.
I began to realize that I
would do anything for this
little girl - no sacrifice
too great. I also started
to comprehend how deeply I
loved her and understood that
my own parents had loved me
that completely. I also suddenly
saw that, really, there is
nothing as a child that I
could ever do to reciprocate
that amount of love to my
parents - the same way that
my daughter could never love
me as intensely as I love
her.
Then
it hit me - it really didn't
matter. My love for her was
truly unconditional - no strings
attached. Even if she grew
up to hate me, I would still
love her just as much. Amazing.
Finally
she knew she had me where
she wanted me - it was time
to teach me the most important
lesson of all: responsibility.
She helped me to realize that
for the first time in my life
I had a responsibility that
far eclipsed everything else.
Whatever I decide to do professionally
or socially fails to compare
with the importance of my
responsibility as her father.
As a child - my child - she
deserves every opportunity
and it's up to me to give
them to her, regardless of
the cost or the sacrifice.
I realized that so many of
the daily games and ego battles
that consume my adult life
are nothing but charades compared
to raising this little girl.
My real job is to be the best
father to her that I can be
every single day and to give
her a life beyond compare.
Nothing else matters near
as much.
Perhaps
some of this seems like common
sense to you. Maybe some of
you figured these things out
on your own years ago. Regardless,
it's taken me the better part
of 30 years on this planet
- making many small and a
few big mistakes along the
way - to finally truly learn
these life lessons. Or maybe
I always knew them and I just
needed a wild-haired little
angel to help me remember.
Either way, I am both humbled
and grateful.
This
column © 2000 Lee Totten
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