CFC INSIGHTS: How do we find balance in a world that keeps moving faster?
We just got back from a summer spent with our kids. I had a greater capacity to be present than I can remember. Although all of that family time surfaced difficulties, it also proved wonderful. A few nights before school started, I walked upstairs to find our kids all in one room — and here’s the great part — just talking with each other. No screens. No parental mandates to clean rooms. They were just sitting there, of their own volition, enjoying each other’s company. The moment caught me by surprise and brought a smile to my face. I backed down the stairs quietly, not wanting to disturb them.
There’s a series of pictures by my desk of my three boys taken in a photo booth. Silly faces, smiley faces, surprised faces. Just a random set of pictures taken years ago on a whim as we wondered through the mall. The quality is poor. The ink is literally vanishing a bit more each day. It reminds me of the picture that Marty McFly carried around in Back to the Future. You know, the one where his brother and sister keep fading out of existence.
One of the reasons I left a fast-paced job this year can be summed up in a word: margin. The level of margin I had left while devoting the amount of time to do my job well felt insufficient. Not enough to be in the moment. Or to think beyond the pressing.
Google “five regrets of the dying” and you’ll find number two is, “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.” It’s a funny statement to the ears of a parent who harps on the value of hard work. And yet, I believe it to be a true statement. As I write this, I’m sitting at Starbucks watching people pull out of the drive through. Everyone is on their phones. Distracted while pulling into traffic on their way to work. It’s an old complaint. More conveniences than ever before and more distractions than ever before. Perhaps I’m turning grumpy in middle age (for which Wikipedia tells me I now qualify). I feel a good, “Get off my lawn!” welling up somewhere deep inside.
But this picture of my boys haunts me. This thought of margin comes back. And I’m reminded that, like the picture, moments fade. The experience passes and then it’s gone. I feel a tinge of regret about how many moments I’ve spent with my boys where I’ve lacked the foresight to be truly present. There are equal parts joy, sadness, pride, urgency and resolve when I look at the photo booth picture.
The kids are back to school now and at times I feel like I am drowning in “margin”. Sometimes I freak out about what I’m going to do next. I’ve no desire to sit around for the rest of my life waiting for the school bus to return. Nor do I have a desire to go at the pace I did for all those years. But I find the pace I want elusive. How do we find balance in a world that keeps moving faster? (Read Scale by Geoffrey West if you don't agree that the world is moving faster) It’s an honest question I’ve devoted a lot of thought toward and that I don’t know the answer to. If you have an opinion, write me back at brinton.johns@gmail.com
P.S. Here’s the picture of my boys:
