Goodbye, Good Boy

School came easy to me.  I was a good student, at least measured by grades and behavior.  I don't expect anybody to feel sorry for me because of this, but it turns out that excelling comes with its own set of baggage.  Who'd have guessed?

We all want recognition for how we carry ourselves in the world.  But recognition, in the form of regular praise, top grades, and awards, can be addictive.  Do X, Y, or Z - get the cheese at the end of the maze.  Do it again, bigger and better, get more cheese.  The feedback loop seduces even as it subtly (or not so subtly) affects behavior.  Failing to do X, Y, or Z, taking a chance on, say, doing Q, feels risky because the rewards and consequences are unknown or unpleasant.  In high school, on track to be valedictorian, I didn't take typing, even though it would have been useful, because it most likely would have blown my 4.0.  Consequently, I am typing this blog entry using four fingers and a thumb.

By getting caught in the good feedback loop I learned to avoid taking risks.  I learned to follow rules and expect rewards to follow.  I was juiced up on the praise and acceptance of others (although it turns out that jealousy of others was an almost acceptable substitute).  I learned how to be a "good boy," which served me well in life, right up until it didn't.

As an adult, being a "good boy" just doesn't work.  Careers, relationships, passions, social engagement, spiritual inquiry - none of these are successfully negotiated by someone who cares too desperately what others think of him or her.  Life, it turns out, holds no truck with black and white rules.  Rather, life is a multicolor, paradoxical, mind-blowing endeavor that calls to us to embrace it, even as it chooses, at times, to chew us up and spit us out.  It's all part of the great dance of the universe.

In order to live life as the good man I aspire to be, it has become necessary to say goodbye to the "good boy" I've tried to be.  This means I can no longer afford to act from a place that tries to please everyone. 

"What can I do today to make the world a better place?"  This question stares me in the face every time I open the refrigerator to feed my face.  It's a reminder that deciding not to please others doesn't give me license to ignore them.  It's a reminder that, to be a good man, I need to act from that deep internal place that calls me to serve others even as I care for myself.  I need to joyfully jump onto the universe's dance floor and dance my butt off.