Breaking records is a
relatively modern phenomenon. I don’t mean the kind that my children break when they discover my collection of
Frank Sinatra discs, but the achievement kind -- those that tell us how far behind the four
minute mile we are, what a sound barrier used to be, and
those that tell us that gold was once worth a mere $35 an ounce.
Back then, almost every day
my children read that someone has thrown, lifted, driven, sailed, hit, run,
hit, run, jumped, leaped and flown something further, heavier, faster, farther,
harder, and higher than ever before. My
children wanted in, to be part of the act.
It started out in the most
innocent way. It was just another gray winter morning. The stove had not yet
reached the glow of warmth intended, and breakfast either had to be made, or
was in the process of being so. Sharon descended upon my gray morning with a
kiss on the cheek and the announcement,
“Do you realize that this
is the first time I have kissed you, on the cheek, while you are sitting on the
sofa, on the 9th of November?” Before I could challenge this assault upon my
early morning reverie, she shot back, “It’s a new world record.”
Since then, new world
records have become ten a penny. One member of the family is tried to eleven a
penny—another new world record. Kate is reached for the new record of how many ways she could cycle to the library. I
remember hoping that the record didn't include neighbors’ back yards. My eldest
aimed at being the first to wear a dog out before she was worn out. I don‘t think she made it. However that
whole line of thinking set me off on a mental journey of my own.
Wouldn’t it be really
something if we could set records for loving and helping?
Couldn’t our present
records for kindness and compassion do with a little breaking?
A friend said to me: “Try
to do just one good thing each day, and you’d be surprised how it would make
your day.” Well, it worked. It did indeed make my day, but why stop there? I,
like my children, decided to set a few world records of my own. I’d like to be
able to make an entire day one wholly good deed. Alas, like all attempts at
record breaking, there’s a lot of training and a lot of perseverance to be
accomplished. Mental record breaking is as hard as it's physical counterpart.
What my children were
showing me was that records and achievement also lie in the realm of the
spirit. We too often think of breaking limits only in the physical world, in
that gray mass under our skull, yet we
also exist in our heart and mind. These too can become limited and stilted if
we do not set higher levels for their accomplishments.
Talking about Englishmen
at the height of the British Empire, E. M. Forster said, “They go forth into
the world with well-developed bodies, fairly developed minds, and undeveloped
hearts.” He said an undeveloped heart, not a cold one. Our senses are
overqualified for their intended use.
We pay very little
attention to the subtle forms of expression all around us. We hear but do not
listen. We look but do not see. We invent the most complex electronics
machinery to relieve us of these
tiresome tasks, and it tells us nothing except that it is only a
conglomeration of chips, silicon and silly games.
Our senses are
biologically and physically advanced and spiritually underemployed. There is
all around us, a luminous and sonorous world. It is full of sights and sounds
that have nothing to do with physical structures; it is limitless,full of records waiting to
be broken.
All of us are potential
heirs to this world. No one has a monopoly on
goodness of the heart, or
the ability to see further than at present. To
elevate our spirit by
conscious endeavor is achievement indeed. And the
present record can be broken!
Setting an achievement for
our lighter tendencies can go a long way to eliminating
humanity’s taste for
cruelty and indifference. If you can’t
reach the goal you set for yourself, set one you CAN reach. The beautiful thing
about a
record, an aim, goal or
personal achievement, is that it can always be broken, but never eliminated.
There can be no limit on morality or humanness. The records we set for
ourselves will always be there.
© Copyright 2001 Roy H.
Barnacle. All rights reserved.
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