I’m at a low point, sensing my old friend Steve Quick feels the same. He suspended his blog. I see problems everywhere, and it seems hopeless. People are losing hope, and it seems that hope is being destroyed. Recently, a woman texted a man, “I won’t leave you,” then broke up with him and stopped contacting me. How can we trust people, especially when we think we know them and they betray us?
We’re not allowed to be ourselves in this world. Everyone preaches, but we can’t be ourselves. I’ve been reminded not to have an ugly sweater contest and chastised for saying Merry Christmas instead of “Happy Holidays.” Loved ones ask for my opinion and spend hours telling me how wrong I am. They ask for advice but don’t follow it, then ask the same question again. I give the same advice, and they do something different. I can respect their refusal to take my advice, but why ask me again? Frustration is at its peak.
Everyone complains about how I live. I chew too loudly, I’m deaf or stupid, my clothes are uncomfortable, I drive too slow or fast, I go to bed too early, I don’t clean up after myself, I walk too slow, I’m unhealthy, I need to get a life, I’m blind, and more. I think I can’t go a day without getting a verbal slap in the face.
Recently, I heard the 2014 University of Texas commencement speech from alumnus William H. McRaven, the commander of the U.S. Special Operations Command who organized the raid that killed Osama bin Laden. He provided 10 lessons in life; I will only add a few, as they were the most applicable, as I envision a marine who has been emotionally brought down to the lowest depths.
Here are a few of the lessons:
Every morning during basic SEAL training, my instructors, all Vietnam veterans, would inspect my neatly made bed. If done correctly, the corners were square, the covers were pulled tight, the pillow was centered, and the extra blanket was folded neatly at the foot. It was a simple task, but we had to make our beds perfectly every morning. It seemed ridiculous at the time, as we aspired to be real warriors, but the wisdom of this act has proven true.
Making your bed every morning accomplishes the day’s first task, giving you a sense of pride and encouraging you to do more. By the end of the day, it can lead to many tasks being completed. It also reinforces the importance of small things in life. Doing the little things right leads to doing the big things right. If you have a miserable day, a made bed encourages you that tomorrow will be better.
To change the world, start by making your bed.
After weeks of tough training, my SEAL class dwindled from 150 to 35. We had six boat crews, each consisting of seven men. I was in the boat with the tall guys, but our best crew, the “munchkin crew,” consisted of six people who were under 5-foot-5. They included an American Indian, an African American, a Polish American, a Greek American, an Italian American, and two tough kids from the Midwest. The munchkin crew out-paddled, out-ran, and out-swam everyone else.
The big men in the other crews would joke about the munchkins’ tiny flippers before swimming. But somehow, these diverse individuals always had the last laugh—swimming faster and reaching the shore first.
SEAL training was a great equalizer. Success depended solely on will, not race, ethnicity, education, or social status. To change the world, measure a person by their heart, not their size.
Instructors would frequently inspect the class’s uniforms. They ensured that hats were starched, uniforms were pressed, and belt buckles were polished to a shine. Despite efforts, instructors found flaws. To fail, students ran into the surf, got wet, and rolled in the sand until they were completely covered in it.
This “sugar cookie” experience left students cold, wet, and sandy for the rest of the day. Many couldn’t accept that their efforts were in vain and unappreciated. Those who didn’t understand the drill didn’t make it through training. They needed help understanding the purpose. You’d fail, and you’d never have a perfect uniform.
Sometimes, you still end up as a sugar cookie, no matter how well you prepare. It’s just life. To change the world, get over being a sugar cookie and keep moving forward.
In SEAL training, a brass bell hangs in the compound’s center for all students to see. To quit, ring the bell and no longer wake up at 5, endure freezing swims, or do runs, obstacle courses, or PT. Ring the bell and end the hardships of training.
If you want to change the world, never ring the bell.
Start each day with a task completed.
Find someone to help you through life.
Respect everyone.
Life isn’t fair, and you’ll fail often. But take risks, step up when tough times come, face bullies, uplift the downtrodden, and never give up. The next generation will live in a better world. What started here will change the world for the better.
It was a great speech, full of many truths. I still don’t ring the bell, but I’ve poured my energy into it for the past three months. I made my bed yesterday. It may not have made a difference, but I’ll try again.
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