November 1979…Billings Senior High School; a mentally but not necessarily physically young punk kid with barely a page of street smarts tucked loosely in his back pocket held onto a few aspirations, to be a top scoring hockey junky for the Bighorns, a loud as can be beat pounding rock star like Steven Tyler and Gene Simmons or the Big Sky Country’s version of an out of control Wolfman Jack on transistor and bedside clock radio’s.
“It’s not going to happen…” The Current Events teacher spilled out onto the plate of reality. “I can’t see you being anything more than a busboy at the Muzzle Loader Café.”
“Wait a second!” The student angrily interrupted. “I lay out three extremely important paths of choice and the best you can come up with is someone stuck erasing what Montana families of ten or more with messy kids deliver?”
“The highest grade you have is a D plus! You have three F’s… You’re Creative Writing teacher calls you a nightmare because the idea of following rules requires an act of congress. You aren’t going to make it out of here unless you drop out like your brother.”
Goethe once said, “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”
Henrik Ibsen wrote, “The strongest man in the world is he who stands most alone.”
Gandhi inspired millions when releasing, “Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”
A quote from Lao Tzu, “While loving someone or something deeply you shall be given courage.”
And now you know why I quit the garage band, hung up the hockey skates, threw away my wishes to meet girls in accounting class and bravely took on the Creative Writing instructor exclaiming, “Being different in the way I play with words is my accent and you’d never tell a Texan to speed up a long drawn out drawl!”
She must have put a wicked spell on me because where am I? In the South! Plus I find tremendous pleasure in teaching! Cough! Gag! Curse! But I graduated with a B plus and the rest A's. I can’t be proud of that…because I know where the low grades came from…it was too easy to give up and it took a Government teacher with ba**s to put the left foot in front of the right.
You don’t need a radio disc jockey to tell you that strength is a virtue and talent is the gift. We’ve all known someone who’s incredibly talented but feature no physical or mental strength. Becoming a second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do had nothing to do with how well I kicked, punched and tried to tear up the mat. I was the freak that became spiritually connected to the deepest levels of mental travel vowing to better understand the art of how a little wind and water changes everything.
Those on the outside believe belts are handed out to anyone willing to fork out the right amount of monthly money. I’m here to tell you that just ain’t happening. If that was the case Master Harris should’ve given me my 3rd degree belt in the moments after my July 21, 2009 heart attack; eight fricken classes shy of the big test and a much higher power whispered, “You haven’t learned s***.”
Strength is a virtue and talent is the gift.
The 1980’s and 90’s American attitude was, “We’re the best! Nobody can beat us! We’re so damn big and strong that we’re going to give jobs away to other countries who think they can out smart, out perform and double the delivery speed this nation has spent decades perfecting.” How’s that workin for ya?
Richard Andrew King writes in his book The Black Belt Book of Life; the Secrets of a Martial Arts Master, “The Wall….through their sweat, blood, tears, hopes and dreams they have come—seeking, striving to reach a pinnacle only few have conquered; seeking to rise above the mediocre and mundane to stand apart in triumph. But the wall, standing as an edifice to courage, determination and the substance of a relentless spirit, has broken all but just a few—the few who could not be broken; the few who can truly claim to be named a Black Belt.”
Picked up on a Katy Couric CBS News story last night; the number of free spirits who’ve shoved their middle fingers high into the Corporate American air and said, “I can do this without you.” And just like that lazy bump in the middle of a gravel road at Billings Senior they’ve opened their ruffled feathers and learned the flight of the wind.
No day passes that you won’t be challenged. If life wasn’t supposed to be a test we’d all be winners on American Idol and The Voice. No matter how stinky your armpits are; it should be your daily challenge to exercise your indomitable will.
When I signed on to this journey in June of 62 nobody stood at the front door of the womb shouting, “You won’t be part of the Baby Boomer Generation nor will you qualify for Gen X and Y. You’ll be part of the people that’ll be in between and that means no radio station will figure out what your favorite songs are therefore learn to love all things including Hip Hop and the B-52’s.”
The Beatles did nothing for me but George Harrison proved you can make a lot of waves without Lennon and McCartney at your side.
Strength is a virtue and talent is the gift.
If someone tells you your writing and speaking habits suck…congratulations! For a brief moment you had an honest to God listener! Let it out! Everything you dream or your inner voice will get as stinky as your arm pits…that’s it…put your nose down there and take a whiff…the next step has to start somewhere. Never forget the smell of failure.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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