Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. ~ Mahatma Gandhi
By the time I came into the rooms, I was incredibly brilliant.
After a month or so in AA, I wasn’t so smart after all.
I’d always considered myself as, “The Great Exception.”
Every time I read about insanity in step 2, I always assumed they were referring to other people. Not me, I was fine. It was those other people who were messed up.
It never occurred to me that I was crazy.
Never underestimate the power of denial.
My peculiar brand of insanity stems from the belief that I can get away with things that no one should even consider attempting.
When it came to my formal schooling, the most charitable thing anyone could say was that I was a subpar student.
From Kindergarten to College, I tried to get away with the bare minimum. I was never interested in excelling. I just preferred to see what I could get away with.
It took me six long years to earn my Bachelor’s.
I didn’t take my schooling seriously. Hell, I didn’t take anything seriously.
It was the summer after my Freshman year at New England College, and everyone was gathered in our kitchen.
My father was curious to see the result of my steep tuition, “So what do you think was the most important thing you’ve learned during your first year at college?”
His timing couldn’t have been more perfect, because right at that instant I was twisting the cap off a Michelob.
Thinking I was being clever and funny, I simultaneously positioned the cap in my fingers, aimed at a spot on the far wall and said, “This!”
With that, I snapped my fingers, and launched the cap with such velocity it audibly hummed across the room, hit the spot I was aiming for, and clattered to the floor.
I was all smiles, and proud of my obvious prowess, “Pretty good, eh?”
It was one of those occasions where my parents just looked at each other in utter resignation, shook their heads, and wondered: “Where did we go wrong?”
After snapping several thousand beer bottle caps out of my second floor dorm room window into the Contoocook River, I was poised to earn a Nobel for my selfless advancement of the fine art of long-distance bottle cap snapping.
I was consistently a source of scholastic disappointment to my parents, my teachers…and myself. Although there was never any question that I was capable of doing much better, I couldn’t be bothered.
We’re all familiar with that old mantra, “If I only knew then what I know now.” At some point I needed to give myself permission to let go and move on.
After I was sober for a few years, I toyed with the decision to change my career path – so I returned to school. This time everything was different, and I aced my classes effortlessly.
It’s so tyical of of my life: A Day Late and A Dollar Short.
Now, looking at it from the other side, I’m very grateful for my formal education…I just wish I took better advantage of it.
There are no shortcuts, and there’s just no substitute for showing up, paying attention, and doing the work.
HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:
Now that I am older (and hopefully wiser) I shudder when I think of what my priorities once were.
I’m no longer interested in running the scam, and I no longer live in constant fear of getting caught.
Although I received my degree decades ago, I’ve never stopped learning valuable lessons from sponsors, and sponsees.
So many people have left their imprint upon my life.
Some of the most valuable life lessons unexpectedly came from the most unlikely of sources.
I’ve learned by watching people commit the same type of boneheaded mistakes I did.
And I’ve seen people succeed by following simple suggestions and showing up. It’s ironic. The majority of people who taught me the greatest lessons were oblivious to the fact they gave me so much.
Some were a beacon of hope, and a power of example. Others, a cautionary tale.
The big turnaround: I now have the opportunity to share those lessons with others.
And today, my ongoing education doesn’t involve beer bottle caps.
