Thursday, March 18, 2010

Just too damn positive in an extremely negative world.

Musician, author and producer Robin Crow writes, “A giant wooden ship sitting in a harbor is peaceful but that’s not what it was built for.”



Large white sails that bask in the heated passion of a sun racing to warm a body made of water, each plank of the ship held together by the might of many men who laid their trust down in places a passerby would walk, run or stumble across while extremely hungry waves crash hard against the carefully crafted hull forcing Leonardo Dicaprio to scream, “I’ve changed my mind about being the king of the world! This ain't easy!”



The next time you get caught up in a bad day become the pride set within the hollowed out soul of a ship built for those whose passion is to perform. Too many wandering boats already crowd the waterways leaving no room for taller more confident masses of travel to squeeze in a dance on a floor designed for adventure.



If movement isn’t to be had…we slip the ship into a parking space at the dock then rush indoors to down a plate of BBQ chased by an amble collection of chicken wings dipped in blue cheese.



“A giant wooden ship sitting in a harbor is peaceful but that’s not what it was built for.”



The American spirit was created to take a good strong hit. After being knocked down and maybe out, you’re supposed to get back up and do it again. I’ve always believed family squirms and squabbles are nothing more than boot camp for future decisions made combined with everyday challenges. You’re pushed and pushed but never bend until the moment Mom or Dad look away then ka-plunk you land the perfect comeback punch of the day.



We have forgotten how to fail—the thought of it pours on the pounds of worry in our stomachs turning the once hot idea into pale faced sick zombies with no desire to do anything but walk forward.



We fear failure. It’s the giant hairy wolf that’s been chasing Little Red Riding Hood for a billion decades and to this very moment the thought of hearing, “I’m going to huff! I’m going to puff,” throws us into a state of self generated terrorism. It’s a horrible feeling to hold. It eats away at your thought process like fresh chocolate. You are weakened to the point of sacrifice which usually involves losing interest in the original plan.



You weren’t built to stop. Those ribs you wake up with every morning were carefully crafted to protect the heart and lungs required to shoot endless amounts of energy into the veins carrying blood to the muscles begging to be put back to work. There’s a reason why your hamstrings are the largest single element—balance is everything and how you stand in times of tremendous pressure convinces the brain to continue sending messages to other body parts impatiently waiting to harness the willingness to turn a thought, idea or dare into something made of reality.



Sadly…most of us don’t think this way. We’re the person Bruce Springsteen is singing about:



One step up and two steps back.
It's the same thing night on night.

When I look at myself I
don't see the man I wanted to be
Somewhere along the line I
slipped off track.



One step up and two steps back.



It’s not your fault! How can we expect you to be greater than great when the coaching staff of modern day Corporate America has released the idea of making sure you understand the game? You’re tossed into the center of the ring to do nothing more than sink or swim. Painfully you look to the corner in hopes of locating Rocky Balboa only to realize every opportunity accepted has nothing to do with teamwork and everything to do with survival.



The only person offering support or congratulations are the set of eyes staring back at you while washing your hands in the bathroom. The Captain of your ship—the wind in your sails, the oversized wooden wagon wheel that steers you through the toughest storms while popping your tail out somewhere between here and there. And you haven’t even offered a simple thank you.



I get it! Why should you? Every person, job or title is no longer a guarantee in the walk of life. We are trained to make it or break it. That person in the mirror is constantly in the way. My Dad always barked about my friends, “You spend too much time with them! It a wonder you don’t all go into the bathroom at the same time!” In reality, there has been one person always in there with you.



It’s not your fault that you find pleasure or release in looking at yourself in the mirror to find everything wrong. I can’t stand the way my hair looks! I got bashed in the face pretty hard last night in Tae Kwon Do…how vein am I to walk into the bathroom to study the schnooky to see if its bent, broken or just being a big ole baby?



We’ll fight with the beast in the mirror but lay low on the idea of gaining access to a higher level of success outside that sheet of nothingness. For every job open in radio there are one thousand people trying for it. I can’t imagine the odds of landing a performance in the world of banking, gourmet chef, hair stylist, dentist or the next judge on American Idol.



Generations shouldn’t be separated at birth. I may not have the makings of the Wyoming pig and cattle farmer my Grandpa Dobrenz was but I’ve got enough fight in me that might remind him of the bitterly cold winters that struck his land. Learn to look beyond the surface of your skin and locate every reason to be strong again. I can’t imagine what life in America was like when lawmakers rationed sugar and metal and the only job a person could find was making bullets to send over to Germany and Japan in a beat up factory on a dangerous side of town. What about the men who left their families when President Roosevelt generated jobs that created highways through the toughest, tallest and most dangerous mountains in the country?



What about the men and women who never think twice about waking up in places of the world and their only mission in life is to preserve American freedom?



“A giant wooden ship sitting in a harbor is peaceful but that’s not what it was built for.”



arroecollins@clearchannel.com

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