Little Moments of Joy

July 14, 2014

Humans respect fame.  With wide-eyed awe, wonder or even love we approach those who have achieved fame of any sort, slightly jealous and a bit touched that they allow us to share a moment with them, almost as if fame is a contagious disease that we might be lucky enough to catch. For some of us, we pursue fame as the antidote to our woes. ‘If I were rich…’, ‘If I were powerful…’, ‘If I were talented…’

I find myself too caught up in this desire at times. Deep down, I believe that all of my travels partially stem from a sense that varied, sometimes exotic, nature of my work in places far from my normality, will create an aura of awe or respect. The reality is much more mundane. I’ve had many lovely experiences and those experiences are a part of who I am as a person.  My friends and colleagues are defined by different sets of experiences.  No worse, no better. Simply distinct.  Each time I delve into these experiences, I am reminded of that in two ways.

No experience exists without its challenges.  By diving in with a sense of accomplishing something incredible and awe-inspiring, I can lose sight of the fact that other people are involved, other needs are present and the experience requires constant negotiation to keep it grounded, collaborative and beneficial to every person involved.  I (re)learn to focus on the immediacy of the moment, not the awe of the idea.  When I get too caught up in the desire to achieve, the challenges become magnified.  I get a little panicky.  Will this fail?  Will I fail? Am I not capable of what I imagined I could do?

That panicky self-doubt, exacerbated by the initial desire to ‘accomplish something important,’ eats away at the potential to create lovely moments of interaction with others and collaboratively achieve some truly transformational experiences, as small as they might be.

Which brings me to my second reminder; the more important of the two. Little instances of joy. And here I share a story.

My high expectations (aka ‘desire for fame’) hit an obstacle when it appeared that a group of students were not completely engaged by what I offered them.  I pushed through, trying to bring them to my way, but ultimately the class session failed to ignite.  This caused some personal frustration and some self-doubt. And then, as I walked along a muddy pathway, a bit oblivious to the light rain, heavy winds and gritty caws of the crows above, one of the custodial staff called out to me.  He spoke the local language so I wasn’t sure what he wanted.  With persistence, he gestured in ways that clearly indicated that he liked the curl in my hair.  He ended with a ‘Super. Super.’ And laughed. Other such moments occurred that day, but that initial moment just helped pushed my thoughts back into place.

It’s the connections. The interactions. The sharing and collaboration. It’s the people in the room that matter. Fame is a trouble-filled expectation. Shared moments of joy fill us with possibility.