Being Your Own Superstar
In golf, it’s called a handicap. We all have one. The parents we were born with, Bad things that have happened to us. Poverty. Illness. Bad decisions that weren’t really our fault. Any life condition(s) that make it difficult, if not impossible, to be the best at something. And yet you can still be the best (whether or not that means being better than everyone else). I think that we see/judge ourselves through the lenses of our friends, people we’re connected to, more so than through the lens of the universe, which is a more objective lens. Only we know exactly what it is like to have whatever handicap or handicaps we have, and what is in the realm of possibility, much less greatness, in light of it/them. The best human in the world could be someone nobody has ever even noticed. He/She may or may not have battled cancer, may or may not be a fantastic athlete, may or may not have a 130 IQ, etc. Just as having had a serious illness or illnesses doesn’t automatically make one a superstar, achieving great monetary success likewise doesn’t automatically make one one.
All of us in OM have a challenge we have dealt with/are dealing with, but the conditions we have are so particular and so varied that it can be difficult to see what really connects us. I think what getting outside (having an outdoor mindset) means for me is learning how to handicap myself, how to adapt my goals to fit my situation, and how to set myself up for success, as defined by my ability to meet those goals. I would say that there is nothing wrong, for instance, with giving up a thing or things, not because they’re too hard or because we can’t do them, but because they may be part of our old path, instead of the one we are now on.
When the dust settled over my life recently, I realized that the essence of everything I’ve ever done is sort of all one thing. I don’t need to play the guitar, shoot an 80 in golf, even walk at a certain pace when I go to the store (all things that a brain tumor compromised), because what I do do, which a lot of times isn’t the thing itself, but how I do it, keeps me moving forward – forward on my new path, which is as fruitful and as interesting as I can make it. I was an athlete, first and foremost, in my younger years. Circumstances forced me to pursue other things, as early as college. In my twenties and thirties, Bipolar Disorder forced me (or helped me, depending on how you look at it) to pursue art (writing, painting, music, and more than anything, as a way of life – eg. Creativity in taking care of myself). The brain tumor I had removed 3 years ago was and wasn’t a big deal for me, because I had learned by then how to take whatever life gives me. So this is what I focus on - challenging myself in a way that feels good, like getting outside, or doing other things I like or love, but also realizing that I am still only maybe halfway along the journey from my surgery 3 years ago to discovering what new activities there are to become passionate about, and new ways of doing them.
Eric Cooney has been an OM member since 2016. He is a writer and visual artist living in Boulder, Colorado.
