Did Curiosity Actually Ever Kill A Cat? - You Be The Judge

Turns out I have been judgmental - of myself!

I set up this blog platform almost ten years ago with the intent of getting some thoughts of mine out there while sharpening my writing style. In those nine plus years, I have only posted seventeen times - less than twice a year.

Not exactly prolific. So I got curious. What is holding me back? I love to tell stories. I have a thousand of them (not all interesting). And I have time, or can make time. So what's really going on here?

There I go again, jumping to the conclusion that I am either (a) lazy, (b) undisciplined, (c) uncommitted, or any number of combinations. You get the idea - judgmental.

While watching an episode of Ted Lasso, it occurred to me that one of my weaknesses is what I will call overanalysis (I just made that word up), which can be paralytic. 

Paralysis by overanalysis is not a good trait for a person who defines his style as a combination of optimism and idealism. Those who know me will have heard me begin many a sentence with, "In my perfect world ..." It's also not a good way to garner the reputation of a maverick, of someone who challenges convention and marches to the beat of his own drum.

If I'm honest, I embrace the concept of being different, unconventional - even to the point of walking right up to, but not over, the precipice known as absurdity. 

I learned how to be an effective salesperson and leader by watching, observing and reading. Always asking myself, "Why?"

Why did he say that? Why did she react that way? Why did they do that? Why do it that way?

I have always been curious - willing to ask - why?

So when a scene came on in Ted Lasso involving his proficiency at the game of darts, and he quoted Walt Whitman as having said, "Be curious, not judgmental." a bell went off in my head. 

I am Ted Lasso. I have always been Ted Lasso. 

My management style is unpredictable, unorthodox, improvisational even to the point of eccentricity.

That is Ted Lasso. He is confident everything will work out, he believes in the 'good' in people and he is, well - corny at times. 

Me too.

In the show, Ted comes to the conclusion that all the people he met who underestimated him had very little curiosity and they judged him. He realized he had no control over what others thought, only over what he did. So he marches to the beat of his own drum, he defies convention and he kills with kindness. Asking why all the way to victory.

Turns out curiosity never killed a cat, however, it can be a great teacher in the school of life.

I'm going to work on being less judgmental of myself and others. 

Curious?

I've got that covered.

Post Script - I really wanted to read that Walt Whitman poem, so, out of curiosity, I searched for it. Turns out (according to scholars who study Whitman), he never penned those words - ever. How about that?

Ghost Leafs Go!

Tune in Thursday at half past seven,

Our young lads, Leafs all,

Get a boost from the heavens.

Embraced by a vision to bring Lord Stanley's cup home,

I thought it was past time,

To rewrite this poem.

An energy took over the ice rink that day,

Not Maple Leaf Gardens, 

Scotiabank Arena you say?

To any true fan, something strange was beginning,

That made you believe, 

"By God boys - we'll be winning".

Look down in that corner, it was uncanny, 

"It's Keon" they whispered,

Big M, Tiger and Lanny.

Back on the blueline, King Borje flew,

Number seven, Tim Horton,

Resplendent in blue.

Sundin was smiling as Sittler appeared,

With Dougie beside him, 

Lips curled as he sneered,

The face-offs are ours boys, this game we can win,

Palmateer offered his net up, 

"Put Bower in!"

A dark figure appeared to step onto the ice,

The Canadiens knew, 

This guy was not so nice.

Ice chips flying, full stride with no care.

Fans knew in an instant, 

That Wendell was there.

High up in the rafters, hovering there,

The audience peered skyward,

Was Foster up there?

Have at it young bloods, 

The legends did say,

We're skating beside you - at least for today.

The arena was hushed as if cut with a scythe,

Just behind the bench... 

The ghosts of Conn and Staff Smythe. 

The outcome uncertain, that we all know,

But the faithful will be chanting,

Ghost Leafs, Go!

Playing The Game Of Life

I don't make New Year's resolutions. Which is not to say I don't try and make changes in my life - alter patterns, try new things, ditch bad habits - I just don't feel the need to do any of those things on a prescribed day.

There is one thing I want to accomplish this year though, I want to write more. I have the time, I never run out of ideas to write about and I want to improve that talent. My children's story, The Last Maple Leaf, which I wrote in 1999 is now in final editing and the search for an illustrator is a work in progress.

I'll begin early in 2021 on my blog page - TWS The Wright Stuff. Looking back, I see I only wrote one post in 2020, one in 2019... and not a single post in 2017 or 2018. No wonder I have so few followers... not much to follow!

Here is a philosophy I have been pondering during the pandemic - the circle of life (the theme in The Last Maple Leaf), and the future. 

A couple of years ago while gazing into a night sky, it occurred to me that my life was being lived out in quarters... like a football game. Last year, I determined those quarters to be 23 years each. 

Call it the famous 23 Skidoo outside The Flatiron Building in Manhattan.

https://www.loc.gov/item/00694379/

The first twenty-three the learning years, the next twenty-three the driven/growing years. The third twenty-three the productive years. I have one year of my third quarter left before I take the ball and embark upon a final twenty-three years of writing, volunteering, traveling, mentoring and being a better friend to my friends.

If I am honest, with whatever time I have left... I want to make a difference... and I don't want to turn down any challenge I deem worthwhile. And no, I'm not predicting that I will live to 92. The game could be called early for weather - or maybe it goes into overtime. If it does, I hope I am fit enough to play it out!

A very wise man once suggested we could think about life as a sporting event. "What makes it exciting and interesting?", he asked. The answer: It is interesting and exciting because we don't know how it will turn out. What twists and turns will occur as the game nears the end? Excitement until the final whistle, the last at bat, the winning goal... are what keeps it interesting.

Now consider a game that never ends... just goes on forever. Neither interesting nor exciting.

Playing the game of life is playing a game that ends, make yours worth watching!

Right up to the final play.