Tag: belief

The Confidence Conundrum

No chance.

How many times have you heard this retort, when you brought up something you thought would happen? And how many times have those doubts led you to question your own beliefs?

Probably more than once.

Skepticism has a powerful pull over us. It helps us stay in line with reality, and aligns our expectations with those of society.

As communal creatures, we are hard-wired to heed these warnings. They keep us from straying too far from the pack. They shield us from danger.

And yet, we lose quite a bit in this exchange. The principles of creativity, exploration and self-conviction all go by the wayside. Our toolkit for handling adversity is emaciated.

How do we take back our individualism without finding ourselves lost in the wilderness? And how can we summon the courage to explore new frontiers without paying a heavy price for doing so?

Such crossroads make up the Confidence Conundrum.

I am a man of faith.

Not in the way you might expect. I do believe in God, but you’re not likely to find me in a house of worship as the week winds down.

No, I am a man of great faith in myself. I believe that I will achieve and persevere.

Such self-belief has been critical throughout my life. It’s helped me navigate both adolescence and adulthood. And it’s helped me rebound from the setbacks I encountered along the way.

But such faith is not completely unbridled. There have been plenty of moments that have given me trepidation.

Some of these moments — such as the start of a new job — make many of us queasy. Others — such as moving to a new apartment or assembling furniture — are less prevalent concerns.

The situations that give me pause might seem disparate. Random even.

But they have one thing in common. They represent moments of rapid change.

I don’t do well with quick transitions. I rely heavily on precedent and routine to guide my actions. And when normalcy gets uprooted, it’s as if the rug was pulled out from under me.

So, I slow the pace when the winds of change hit. Instead of blasting blindly into the unknown, I let the dust settle before making my move.

It’s a pattern that’s worked well for me. But it’s not exactly a commonly espoused one.

There are a few places we know to expect the unexpected. Where the improbable becomes plausible.

This happens with Disney movies. It happens with the Texas weather. And it happens with the world of sports.

Sports encompasses a world of matchups. Of head to head competition. Of the victors and the vanquished.

The binary nature of sports can tempt us to handicap. To assess the match ahead of time and make our predictions.

Anyone who has donned fancy clothes to attend a horse race, tuned in to a two-hour football pregame show or placed a wager at a sportsbook knows how prevalent this practice is.

We prognosticate so that we can get a handle on what’s coming. We predict so that our emotions are primed for what we are to experience.

And we use a bevy of information for this process. Advanced statistics. Detailed strategic analyses. Even physical attributes, such as the size of the athletes.

The predictions we garner from all this information do come to pass — some of the time. But not always.

There are plenty of upset victories in sports. There are countless instances where the team or competitor deemed too small, too inexperienced or too talent-deficient comes out on top.

Why does this keep happening? How have we not learned from our errors by now?

The answer is intangible. It comes down to the one measure we can’t measure: Confidence.

Athletes believe in themselves. They draw on their experience and ability to give themselves a competitive edge. They’re not focused on the might of their opponents or anything else outside their own orbit. They’re honed in on what they can do when given an opportunity.

Sometimes that confidence can prove to be misguided. I once attended a high school football game in West Texas where the kids on the hometown team were half the size of their opponents. I could see that the home team believed in themselves despite the size disadvantage. And they did indeed hang tough for a bit. But the final score was still lopsided in favor of the other team.

Still, there are plenty of times when that confidence gives an athlete or team all the edge they need. When that self-belie  is the slingshot David needs to slay Goliath.

It’s what we love about sports. Unless, of course, our team is the one bested by the plucky upstart.

Talent only takes you so far. Belief is everything.

Simple choices.

As the world gets more nuanced, we seem to want these more than ever.

So, we delude ourselves. We look for examples of binary decisions and foist them upon our complex world.

Sports is Exhibit A of this.

Think about how many sports terms are now part of our everyday vernacular.

Swinging for the fences. Playing hardball. Three strikes and you’re out.

And that’s just baseball.

We love to use these terms. They’re catchy and they flow well.

But they really don’t work the same outside the lines.

This is particularly the case when it comes to confidence. It’s tempting to tell ourselves that if athletes can keep the faith in all circumstances, we can too.

But this is a critical error.

In sports, victory is all that’s on the line. Athletes are simply looking for the chance to be better than someone else at a particular feat.

In other words, the floor is high. Professional athletes will get paid, win or lose. The worst outcome they might face (outside of injury) is that their season will end before someone else can hoist a trophy.

Even amateur competitors likely won’t see the bottom drop out. Their worst outcome is the dashing of their professional athletic dreams. And even if that happens, they walk away with an advanced degree in leadership, teamwork and preparation.

So, there’s really no reason for athletes not to be confident. In the grand scheme of things, what’s on the line isn’t all that dire.

The same can’t be said for all of us in the world outside of sports. If we walk into a situation we’re ill-equipped to handle, armed only with a dose of self-belief, we risk it all. We could end up delegitimized, destitute and devoid of hope.

Then again, self-doubt is also insidious. If we don’t believe in ourselves at all, we punt on our potential and cede control of our destiny.

This is a puzzle of the highest order. A quandary we can’t afford to sidestep.

It’s imperative that we recognize this conundrum for what it is. And that we strategize accordingly.

That strategy can take many forms. Some may do as I do, and pick certain spots in which to be cautious. Others may keep their sense confidence close to the vest, believing in themselves without letting the world know it.

But regardless, we must identify The Confidence Conundrum. And we must come to terms with it.

The stakes are simply too high to do otherwise.

On Patriotism

Every year, as the summer nears its swell, we follow some familiar patterns.

We break out the sunglasses and fire up the grill. We jump into a body of water to cool off.

And we think about patriotism.

Yes, with Independence Day coming smack dab in the middle of the summer, we inevitably take some time to think about what it means to be American. On the significance of having pride for the Red, White and Blue.

For me, patriotism is not about burgers and hot dogs, flags or fireworks. It’s not about buzzwords like liberty or Stars and Stripes. And it’s certainly got nothing to do with the hot-button issues that have done little but divide us.

No, to me patriotism is about a black and white photo.

The photo sits on my living room wall, under my college diploma. It’s framed, dated March 8, 1945 and postmarked RTC Great Lakes. It features 124 recruits of the United States Navy, arranged in 6 rows for a group photo.

In the first row, two recruits to the left of the young man holding the Navy flag, is my grandfather.

He’s just two weeks past his 18th birthday. Baby faced and decked out in his Navy uniform, he stares toward the camera with a reserved smile. It’s his first time west of the Eastern Time Zone, yet there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

My grandfather grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression. There was poverty all around him, but also hope. That hope came from the relative freedom of opportunity America provided to those driven to improve their standing.

As my grandfather approached high school, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, propelling the U.S. into World War II. My grandfather quickly learned of the atrocities of dictators in Europe and Asia and was inspired to defend the way of life he’d come to know. He was determined to protect America from the grasp of totalitarian powers.

My grandfather enlisted in the Navy at age 17. There was no decision to be made, he later told me. He believed in America and felt obligated to defend it.

The journey took him further from home than ever before. He first went to Illinois for training at RTC Great Lakes. Then, it was off to Camp Pendleton in California to prepare for action in the Pacific theater.

But days before he was slated to see combat, my grandfather broke his foot in an accident in the barracks. The injury relegated him to the role of Corpsman and kept him stateside.

The ship went out to sea without my grandfather, and the Japanese quickly torpedoed it. His replacement was one of the casualties in the incident.

My grandfather’s non-combat injury saved his life. Yet, it also robbed him of the chance to defend our nation in combat. And another man made the ultimate sacrifice in his place.

My grandfather never spoke much about this dynamic — this mix of luck and guilt. He only spoke of the principles he believed in, the ones that led him to enlist in the first place.

My grandfather still believed in his mission of protecting our country, even if his role had now changed. Protecting and rehabilitating the injured was still a key part of that objective — and it’s one he took seriously.

Even when fate once again dealt him an adverse hand.

On a sunny California day, my grandfather set out on the San Francisco Bay in a small vessel. On the boat with him were several wounded midshipmen, outfitted in plaster body casts. My grandfather’s orders for the day were to take these combat veterans out fishing.

As the boat made its way through the bay, it inadvertently drifted too close to Alcatraz Island. At that time, the island included an active federal prison that housed some of America’s most notorious criminals. The island was very closely guarded.

Patrolling Coast Guard boats saw my grandfather’s vessel approaching and made large wake to steer the fishing boat away from Alcatraz. But the large swells turned the boat almost sideways, sending some of the injured men into the water.

My grandfather jumped into the frigid waters of the bay to retrieve them. But the plaster body casts weighed the men down, and he couldn’t lift them back onto the boat. He couldn’t save them.

It was the cruelest form of irony. These men, injured in combat, meeting their end stateside in a series of unfortunate circumstances. My grandfather, powerless in his attempt to rescue them.

“I wish, to this day, that I could have saved them,” he told me years later.

It was my grandfather’s biggest regret in life.

My grandfather passed away a couple of years ago. But he lives on in sprit, through that picture on my wall.

I think of my grandfather each day. Of the decision he made to defend our nation at such an early age. I couldn’t be prouder of him for that.

But mostly, I think of that fateful day on the bay. Of the one sad story my grandfather told amidst a lifetime of happy ones.

There’s no doubt the story is deeply tragic. But I feel it also encapsulates what patriotism is about.

Patriotism is about jumping into the unknown to help our neighbors. And about the remorse we feel if anyone is left behind — plaster body cast or not.

For no matter the color of our skin, the city we call home or the faith we observe, we are part of the same great nation. We are strongest when we are as one.

It’s our obligation to lift each other up, rather than push others down. To trade our boorish ego for humility and selflessness. To discover what’s possible through collective action.

This, to me, is the true meaning of patriotism.

It’s what my grandfather believed in. It’s what he fought for. And it’s what I will continue to strive for, in his memory.

I’d be honored if you joined me.

Own The Moment

The stars shine bright when the lights are brightest.

This line might seem a bit cliché, but there’s a measure of truth to it. The most captivating performances do tend to come from those who own the moment.

I still remember the first time I recognized how true this statement could be. I was 14 years old, watching Allen Iverson take over a game at Madison Square Garden. Under the bright lights of perhaps basketball’s most iconic arena, “The Answer” scored basket after basket down the stretch — silencing 20,000 jeering fans and salting away a win for the Philadelphia 76ers.

It was amazing to see Iverson take that stage, that moment, and make it his own. But then again, that’s what great athletes do. People remember Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and Derek Jeter not only because of their immense talent, but also because of their ability to own the moment on their sports’ biggest stages. Here in Dallas, Dirk Nowitzki will be remembered as much for willing the Mavericks to the 2011 NBA championship as he will be for his Hall of Fame-level career statistics.

Yes, the greatest athletes know how to own the moment. But they’re not the only ones.

We all have an opportunity to own our moments too.

You see, there are times in each of our lives where the lights are on us. Whether we’re talking about a presentation or a proposal, a career change or a self-improvement project, the objective remains the same — own it.

What does that mean?

  • It means putting your heart into it. Devoting yourself to the moment itself as much as the outcome of it.
  • It means staying prepared. Taking the time and initiative beforehand to ready yourself for that moment.
  • It means being confident. Understanding that success is a mindset, and that fear of failure has no place in it.

Ultimately, owning the moment means embracing an aura of achievement. When the spotlight is on our face, our vigilance, devotion and attitude will tell the world the type of person we are — that we will take that light and make it ours.

Now, I realize that this requires extra work, intense focus and some soul searching. That might not seem palatable, particularly for the strenuous situations we must get through.

Still, it’s crucial that we focus on owning all of the moments we come across. It’s tantamount to survival.

After all, no one remembers those who let the moments swallow them whole. It’s the ones who rise to the occasion who tend to see success and recognition.

So, embrace those moments still ahead of you. Be thankful for the opportunities they bring.

Prepare. Devote. Believe.

The outcome might not be entirely in your hands, but your outlook sure is.

Own the moment.

I Believe

What happens when it all goes wrong?

We should know. We’ve been living that scenario for some time now.

Our society stands divided, perhaps more than it has in a generation. And our divisions have never been more visible or more evident.

There are no winners in a divisive society; we all stand to lose. If you don’t believe that now, take a closer look at what has happened to us.

All of this is far from ideal — the polar opposite of it, in fact. By accepting a world where facts don’t matter, a world where the opinions of bullies drown out the truth, we set ourselves down a dangerous path. After all, an authoritarian view is seldom a representative view of a society.

The more we feed into this cycle, the worse it gets. Distrust is like mold — once it sets in, it’s hard to eradicate. Rebuilding the bridges we’ve burned will take time, and the project will become impossible if we lose our way completely.

Take all this into account, and our situation might seem dark. Hopeless even.

But I still believe.

I believe in righteousness. That Do Unto Others resonates deep down for us, and always will.

I believe in unity. That what brings us together is ultimately stronger than what drives us apart.

I believe in truth. That we will naturally gravitate toward our foundation of facts, even when they’re not in our favor.

I believe in joy. That anger and hatred are but temporary, and that love and happiness sustain us.

And most of all, I believe in good.

Why do I believe in all this? Because these attributes have driven us forward since the beginning of time. And because we’ve consistently chosen them for the long haul.

Think about it. While we can trace moments of evil all the way back to the Garden of Eden, they’ve been just that — moments. Horrifying, devastating moments, but moments nonetheless.

You see, evil is like a wildfire. It can spark suddenly and destroy everything in its path, but it will ultimately burn itself out.

But goodness is both sustainable and everlasting. It will rise above wickedness every time.

Goodness represents the path we should choose. And while we sometimes go astray, we always find our way back on course.

So, while our present might seem bleak, and while we have a lot of work ahead to mend those broken fences, we shouldn’t give up on tomorrow. For the promise of a brighter day is still ahead of us.

I believe this, with all my heart.

Do you?