Biographies

Biographies are like tour guides for the soul. You open this special kind of book, and if it’s worth the paper it’s printed on, you find yourself transported to some other place and time, seamlessly integrated into the life of another. The first “biography” I read was a short children’s book on the life of Abraham Lincoln. From his birth in Springfield, Illinois, to his early failure on the campaign trail and eventual heroism as our country’s President during a time of war, I was enthralled by the life and times of this great man.

Recently I have been reading, “Memoirs of a Geisha”. A fascinating look at a woman’s life in a culture with values far different from those taught to me as a post 1960’s American Catholic, raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia. Other tours have included the lives of Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare, Saladin, Leif Ericson, Kublai Khan, Gautama Buddha, Ben Franklin, Harry Potter, George Washington, Andrew Carnegie, Saul of Tarsus, Jacques de Molay, and the list goes on.

Each tour brought unique revelations, insights about the subject, the world they lived in, and also about myself, and my relationship to the world we live in. The real magic of the tour only comes if you allow yourself to live in the story. When you let your imagination run free and explore the world, ideas, challenges, and opportunities offered to a person in that place, time, culture, etc. you come to a new knowing, far superior to the facts relayed by the author.

It is so engrossing to immerse into the story, to consider how you would have responded, adapted, struggled, floundered or flourished in that other world. I often find myself humbled by the sheer effort and will displayed by these famous few remembered for their deeds long after their corporeal deaths. Sometimes though, I lean the other way and with pride consider how I might have strode the world like a colossus if only I could go back to that moment in history knowing what I know now (and perhaps bringing a Bic lighter to impress the peasants of the day).

But would I really have succeeded where they failed? Would I have recognized opportunity knocking? Would I really be willing to trade comfort for passion? Would I have avoided the mistake of procrastination? Would I ever have developed the confidence to try my hands at the reigns of destiny? Or would I merely drift as we all so often do, down a path of mediocrity, consoled by the domestic successes of hearth, home, family, friends, and food. For after all, what does it profit a man to gain the world but lose his soul?

These great, tragic few, these masters of the universe that carved into our collective memory a niche that outlasts their works, what did they gain and really lose?

I think it was Socrates that said, “The unexamined life isn’t worth living.” Prince Hamlet would perhaps have countered that constant examination made his life unlivable. In the end it is neither wealth, nor power, nor an historian’s praise or damnation, or even that priceless woe-bringer fame that is the measure of us. Our biography it seems is nothing more than the sum of our environment and our response to it, our character. What is the measure of a person, but the depth of their compassion, the weight of their resolve, breadth of their wisdom, and the length of their patience?

How can this humble reader ever hope to measure someone? Neither book nor conversation, nor years of observation can assure me of someone’s character. And, just like the storm cloud rolls by to reveal a blue sky and the Sun, so to can someone in darkness swiftly be transformed by life’s journey.

None of us truly chooses our course in life. What we choose is our response to each moment brought our way. It is our character and habits that choose our responses.

Our life is a dance between what happens to us and how we choose to respond. Since we cannot control what happens to us, we do not lead the dance. Trying to lead the dance with destiny leads to stumbling, for two cannot lead, one must follow. Destiny leads, and we follow. We can only work to become the best dance partner possible and this can only be accomplished through practicing our dancing skill, honing our character. In life, our dancing skill is our character and we can only work on that, and let destiny lead us where it will.

A master dancer does not look on the unskilled as creatures beneath her, but rather as students on a journey, improving their skill. They may stumble when they take Destiny by the hand and try to lead, or misstep and fall into her path, but it is not her place to become angry. It is instead an opportunity to respond with poise and grace, to train further and avoid becoming entangled in a collision with the unskilled.

When our nation clashes with the likes of Osama Bin Laden, it is not our compassion, wisdom, or patience that leads us to conflict. He may have been aiming for us on the dance floor, trying to force destiny to follow him, but we failed to avoid him. Were we known for our character, would not the world have warned us? Would not one of our admirers have taught him of our compassion?

Now, it is nearly done. Soon he will be dead for daring to harm us. His biography written and his place in history fixed. The world will learn again that our will is supreme. But, what will we have learned? Will we learn to be less trusting of others, build security around our lives, barriers on the dance floor? Or will we learn to avoid conflict by knowing and caring about the plight of others in our world? Will we seek to improve ourselves, or merely protect ourselves?

This dance with Destiny is the birthright of each individual. It is also the burden of every nation. I believe our national response is always a reflection of our individual characters. My hope is that by working on my dance, our Nation’s will improve as well.

See you on the floor,
Joe
Stevie Wonder and Tiger Woods are in a bar. Woods turns to Wonder and says,"How's the singing career going?"
Stevie Wonder replies, "Not too bad. How's the golf?"
Woods replies, "Not too bad, I've had some problems with my swing, but I think I've got that going right now."
Stevie says, "I always find that when my swing goes wrong, I need to stop playing for a while and not think about it. Then, the next time I play, it seems to be all right."

Tiger says, "You play golf?"
Wonder says, "Oh, yes, I've been playing for years."
Woods says, "But you're blind! How can you play golf if you can't see?" Wonder replies, "I get my caddy to stand in the middle of the fairway and call to me. I listen for the sound of his voice and play the ball toward him. Then, when I get to where the ball lands, the caddy moves to the green or farther down the fairway and again I play the ball toward his voice."
"But how do you putt?" asks Woods.
"Well," says Stevie, "I get my caddy to lean down in front of the hole and his voice."

Woods asks, "What's your handicap?"
Stevie says, "Well, I'm a scratch golfer."
Woods, incredulous, says to Stevie, "We've got to play a round sometime." Wonder replies, "Well, people don't take me seriously, so I only play for money, and never play for less than $10,000 a hole." Woods thinks about it and says, "OK, I'm game for that, when would you like to play?"

Stevie says, "Pick a night."