Amazing Yourself

On a very regular basis, I have to think of a way to respond to the well-intended comment "I just don't know how you do it all!"  This comment, or some variant of it, is usually intended as a compliment, but the cold hard truth is that I don't.  Granted, I have a crazy, busy life.  But time is a finite resource.  You can't manufacture more.  You can sleep less and multitask more.  You can skip meals, eliminate television.  You can even delegate some of your tasks to someone else.

But I am here to tell you that no one does "it all."  My response to the comment is typically some self-deprecating assurance that I'm actually not so amazing.  Actually quite ordinary.  Sometimes quite deficient.  As T.S. Eliot put it:

I am no prophet — and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
. . . 
No!  I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

One day this week, I had a business lunch with two successful women.  As is par for the course of my life, both expressed awe at my ability to "do it all."  Neither woman currently has children and both exclaimed that they struggle to keep their own lives in check and couldn't imagine managing a three-ring-circus of a life like mine.  My response this time was simply:  You might be surprised at your own capacity.  You can do so much more than you think you can.

I have been enjoying the Winter Olympics.  Have you too?  The other night, I watched Shaun White blast off the top of the halfpipe like a rocket headed into orbit, only to race back towards the earth and straight into a mind-blowing contortion of twists and rolls.  

I stared in slack-jawed awe at the wonder that such a feat is even possible.  That a human being should have such capacity!  Watching that display, I couldn't help but think about my own capacity--and the capacity of each and every person--for the amazing.   

I like the way C.S. Lewis expressed it:

"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship . . . .  It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. . . .   [I]t is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit." 

It is true that I am no prophet, nor even a Hamlet.  I will likely never compete in the Olympics or disturb the universe in any cosmic way, but I can amaze myself by stretching beyond my own perceived possibilities.  (You can too.)


Post Script:  The beginning of this post makes me think of a book that I quite enjoyed.  I Don't Know How She Does It by Allison Pearson.