Journey – Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership

Teachers, Mentors, and the Grace That Carries Us

“There is no Frigate like a Book / To take us Lands away.”

Emily Dickinson wrote these words in her quiet room, understanding something I didn’t grasp for decades. The greatest journeys begin within.

I know her poem only because of my 11th grade AP English teacher, Mr. Cox. As a rambunctious and cocky 11th grader, would I have taken any of my “super valuable” time to read poems, sonnets, short stories, even books? No way.

But because of his work (and the work of countless other teachers along the way), I did read. A lot. I learned tons of material and information that didn’t matter to me at the time…but matter a lot today.

My focus back then was simple. Be the best student, get the highest test scores, pass as many AP tests as possible, and earn varsity letters in multiple sports. Mostly, I wanted to beat everyone else, pure and simple. It helped that I was blessed with an almost photographic memory and could recall facts and formulas with ease (sadly, not so much nowadays).

I carried that mindset into college. I loved being the student who defined the grading curve for the class. I was annoyed if I didn’t get every single point on an assignment, midterm, or final. I had an almost uncontrollable drive to outshine everyone…as if that was all that mattered.

I was completely wrong.

On the bright side, that drive and motivation made me a successful student and propelled me into my early career.

On the other hand, seeing everyone as my competition, and less as people, meant I probably missed out on a lot of fun. And lots of friendships that never happened. I was so focused on the destination that I forgot to notice who was traveling with me.

That realization connects me back to Dickinson’s frigate in ways I never expected. She saw the book as a vessel capable of carrying anyone, anywhere, without cost or permission. But what I’ve learned over nearly fifty years since high school is that I was asking the wrong question. It was never “How far can I go?” It was “Who am I becoming, and who’s helping me understand?”

My journey from that hyper-competitive teenager to what I hope is a much more caring, thoughtful, empathetic, nuanced, and life-giving person has been propelled by those same teachers I mentioned earlier, and a longer line of guides who keep showing up at the right time in my life.

I didn’t realize it then, but those books, poems, and teachers were all part of my fleet of frigates. Each one quietly helped me close the distance between knowledge and understanding, between my ambition and wisdom.

My mentors, family, and friends have all been vessels that carried me through changing seas. Some taught me to sail straight into the wind. Others reminded me that drifting for a while can be part of my journey as well. Each lesson mattered, even the ones that didn’t make sense at the time…especially those.

Over time, life has a way of sanding down our sharper edges, revealing something deeper underneath. My focus slowly shifted from being the best at something to becoming the best version of myself.

Now, when I think about Emily Dickinson’s frigate, I picture something far greater than a book. I picture a lifetime of learning, carried by the people who invested their time, wisdom, and patience in me. Mr. Cox, and others who gave freely of their time and wisdom, helped me see that the destination isn’t solely becoming the top of the class. It’s finding a profound depth of understanding, the expansion of empathy, and the ability to see beauty and meaning in small, unexpected places.

If I could go back and talk to that 16-year-old version of myself, I’d tell him the real tests aren’t scored on paper. They’re graded every day in how we treat people, how we listen, and how we show grace.

I’d tell him that the frigate he thinks he’s steering alone has always been guided by grace. The true measure of his voyage will be how much space he makes for others to come aboard.

We’re all learning to sail, carried by the steady hand of God.

We never really travel alone.

Photo by Rafael Garcin on Unsplash

The Shades Are Down – Reflecting on Anthony de Mello’s Parable

Tim Ferris has a weekly newsletter – 5 Bullet Friday. In last Friday’s update, he highlighted a quote from The Way to Love, by Anthony de Mello. This post isn’t related to that quote (although it could be). It’s based on the rabbit hole I dove into, reading other parts of the book. Right out of the gate, de Mello offers a short parable that’s simple at first glance but goes deeper the longer you sit with it.

“A group of tourists sits on a bus that is passing through gorgeously beautiful country, lakes and mountains and green fields and rivers. But the shades of the bus are pulled down. They don’t have the slightest idea of what lies beyond the windows of the bus. All the time of their journey is spent in squabbling over who will have the seat of honor in the bus, who will be applauded, who will be well considered. And so they remain until the journey’s end.”

It’s not a long parable, but it says a lot.

We are each on this ride. This one journey through life. And all around us is beauty: the people we love, small joys, the smell of fresh rain, a child’s laughter, songbirds chirping right outside our window, the warmth of a good cup of coffee in the morning.

But our shades are down. We don’t see any beauty, because we’re too busy with things that don’t matter.

We’re measuring. Comparing. Ranking. Arguing about position, prestige, attention. Scrolling, reacting. Meanwhile, the scenery goes by. Gorgeous, wild, and fleeting. We barely glance out the window.

What struck me about de Mello’s story wasn’t the travelers’ arguments. It’s the view that was always there. The view never stopped being beautiful. The issue wasn’t the lack of beauty. The issue was where they were looking.

This parable is a quiet reminder to lift the shade. To let in the light. To remember that it’s not about getting the “best seat on the bus.” It’s about not missing the view.

So today, maybe take a breath. Look around. Listen a little longer. Smile at someone. Appreciate a small thing that usually passes by unnoticed.

Another of de Mello’s insights that’s in line with his parable:

“The most difficult thing in the world is to listen, to see. We don’t want to look, because if we do, we may change. We don’t want to look, because we may discover that the world is not what we thought it was.”

Sometimes the shades stay down not because we’re distracted, but because we’re afraid. If we truly see what matters, we might have to stop chasing things that don’t. We might have to let go of the version of ourselves that depends on being applauded or admired or seen in a certain way.

But what if that’s the invitation? Not to force ourselves to change, but to wake up to what’s real in our lives. To notice the world again. To feel the wonder again.

The awareness de Mello points to is freeing, like the child’s creativity in my previous post.

It’s the kind of awareness that reminds us we’re not stuck in the noise unless we choose to be. We can pull up the shade. We can look.

Because the ride is short. The view is worth seeing.

And in that beauty, we can see we are never really far from joy.

Photo by Eiliv Aceron on Unsplash

Process Over Outcome — The True Value of Life’s Challenges

The year spent training for a triathlon isn’t just about race day. It’s about the discipline, endurance, and self-discovery that come with each mile ran, every beach swim, and each grueling mile logged on the bike. The race is the goal, but the transformation to triathlete happens during the journey to the starting line.

What about Basic Training for the Marine Corps (something I haven’t personally experienced)? Recruits aren’t merely learning the basic skills they’ll need to be successful. They are becoming something entirely new…a Marine. The recruit is transformed into a Marine by the training process.

Consider a four-year college degree. It’s been said (not sure who said it first) that the main thing a recruiter learns about a college graduate is that they had to apply themselves adequately over a four (or five, or six) year period to get enough class credits to graduate in their chosen major. Each college graduates’ journey is different, and that journey is often as valuable as the classes they had to take to get their degree.

Even smaller experiences like a short hike, a long drive to visit family, or a phone call with a friend can offer more than just their immediate outcomes. They can provide moments of reflection, connection, and growth.

Life’s experiences are not just a series of goals to be checked off or memories to be cherished.

When we learn to enjoy the process and the lessons along the way, we gain something far more valuable: growth, understanding, and the ability to appreciate the transforming power of our journey.

Photo by Matt Howard on Unsplash

What is your favorite quote?

I’m working on an autobiography of sorts. It’s a compilation of my answers to a series of questions. There are about 75 of them that act as prompts. Here are some examples:

Tell me about your childhood home.
What were your school days like?
What was your favorite fashion trend when you were a kid?
How did you meet your spouse?

The idea is that my kids and grandkids and anyone else who’s interested can learn more about my life as they read through my answers to these questions. It’s been a fun project that I’ve been working on over the past 3-4 months.

I just finished answering this question and thought I’d share my answer here:

Can you share a favorite quote or saying of yours?

Life is a journey, not a destination.

I’m not sure who said this first. It’s something I said for years before learning that it was a famous quote from someone else. Turns out there are posters and artwork that you can buy that highlight this quote. Maybe I saw the quote decades ago and it lived in my subconscious mind until later in life.

I don’t have anything against goal setting or visualizing a future and going after it. But it’s important to avoid having tunnel vision in your pursuit of goal achievement since you may miss other opportunities and experiences that introduce themselves along the way.

I’m reminded of a drawing of a stickperson on a ladder. They are locked in on their goal: reaching the top of that ladder before anyone else. This person even jumps over someone and kicks another person off the ladder in their effort to reach the top first. When this person finally reaches the top, they find that the ladder doesn’t actually lead anywhere. Their ladder is standing in the air and not leaning against anything.

The lesson is to make sure the ladder you’re climbing is going somewhere you really want to go.

When you reach your goal, no matter how lofty and difficult it was to achieve, you are merely at a new starting point or more accurately, you’ve made it to one of an infinite number of stops in your life-long journey.

The real goal should be to maximize your enjoyment of the journey itself. To appreciate the small things that happen, the surprises, the diversions, the successes and the failures, the people you meet, and the places you get to experience along the way.

Life is that thing that happens while you’re busy making other plans.

This one is closely related to the first quote. Life is a series of “nows” that are happening in real-time. You can make plans, point yourself in a particular direction, and even tell yourself that you’re in control of all the things that are happening in your life (spoiler alert – you’re not in control of all the things, you only control your response to all the things).

The time to start something new or something that will improve your life is always six months ago. While you’re busy talking about your future, it’s already happening. That thing you’re thinking about doing today but procrastinating while you do more planning will become that thing you should have done six months ago.

Plans are valuable, and you should have a broad plan with some key pillars that you can stand on throughout your life. It’s equally important to avoid hiding behind the planning phases of your life and forgetting to live your life purposely. It turns out that life’s happening anyway, so you might as well live it proactively and not reactively.

These are the good times.

The shortened version of this among friends is, “Good times.” Meaning these are the good times we’ll look back on fondly when we get older. No matter how screwed up something is, or how hard the thing you’re doing right now is, or how much you just failed… all of it will be lumped into your mind and memory as “good times” from your past.

In fact, some of your worst life experiences or life failures might even become the fondest memories you share in the future. You might reflect on how great something was, or how it was good that you had that failure or that heartbreak so you could apply what you learned later in life.

It’s unfortunate that we usually don’t realize this when these things are happening to us in the present.