“Whatever,” he continued. “Anyway, these Siamese twins share the same body, but they have two completely separate heads. But what is really amazing is that the girls have such different personalities, different likes and dislikes, behaviors, and so on. Their parents even said that except for the shared torso, they are two completely different people.”
“Again,” reiterated the nurse, “same genes, same environment—yet different people.”
Simeon continued, “Wonderful examples. I think you will get a kick out of one of my favorite poems, author unknown, which I brought along this morning. It’s called ‘Determinism Revisited,’ and it goes like this:
I went to my psychiatrist—to be psychoanalyzed
Hoping he could tell me why I blackened both my lover’s eyes.
He laid me on his downy couch to see what he could find
And this is what he dredged up from my subconscious mind.
When I was one my mummy locked my dolly in a trunk
And so it follows naturally that I am always drunk.
When I was two I saw my daddy kiss the maid one day
And that is why I suffer now from klep-toe-mane-eye-ay.
When I was three I suffered from ambivalence towards my brothers
And that is just exactly why I beat up all my lovers!
Now I’m so glad that I have learned these lessons I’ve been taught
That everything I do that’s wrong is someone else’s fault!
Hey libido, bats in the belfry, jolly Old Sigmund Freud!”
The only one who wasn’t laughing was the coach, so I asked, “You don’t seem to be buying into this idea, Chris. What’s bugging you?”
“I’m not so sure we are free to choose. For example, studies clearly indicate that alcoholics are more likely to have children who are alcoholics. And isn’t alcoholism a disease? How can you say that is a choice?”
“Great question, Chris,” the teacher replied. “I came from a family troubled by alcohol, and I know I have a certain predisposition to alcohol that I must be very careful about. In fact, back in my late twenties and early thirties, it nearly got the best of me. But even though I may be predisposed to a problem with alcohol, does it make sense to place the responsibility for my drinking on my father or my grandfather? I am the one who chooses to take that first drink.”
Feeling moved to speak I added, “I recently took an executive course on business ethics where they broke up the word responsibility into two words—response and ability. The course taught us that we have all kinds of stimuli coming at us—bills, bad bosses, marriage problems, employee problems, kid problems, neighbor problems, you-name-it problems. The stimulus is always coming at us, but we as human beings have the ability to choose our response.”
“In fact,” the teacher said, speaking more quickly, “the ability to choose our response is one of the glories of being human. Animals respond according to instinct. A bear in Michigan makes the same kind of den as a bear in Montana, and a blue jay in Ohio makes the same kind of nest as a blue jay in Utah. I mean, we can teach Flipper to jump over the wire at Sea World, but Flipper can hardly take credit for the training and may not even be aware of it other than she knows that she will get a belly full of fish at the end of the show.”
The sergeant nodded. “Yeah, one guy comes back from Vietnam in a wheelchair, gets addicted to heroin, and burns out, while another comes back from Vietnam in a wheelchair and is head of the entire Veterans Administration. Same stimulus, but I guess a little different response.”
The teacher marched on, “Viktor Frankl, I’m sure some of you have heard of him, wrote a famous little book called Man’s Search for Meaning, and I would highly recommend it to each of you. Frankl was a Jewish psychiatrist who was educated and later became a professor at the prestigious University of Vienna, the same school that educated Sigmund Freud. Frankl became a believer and proponent of determinism, just like his mentor and idol Freud. Then during the war, Frankl was imprisoned in a concentration camp for several years, lost nearly his entire family and personal possessions at the hands of the Nazi regime, and even endured horrible medical experiments upon his body. He suffered terribly and the book is certainly not for someone with a weak stomach. But he learned a great deal about people and human nature in the midst of his suffering, and it forced him to rethink his position on determinism. Let me read to you a section from his book:
Sigmund Freud once asserted, “Let one attempt to expose a number of the most diverse people uniformly to hunger. With the increase of the imperative urge of hunger, all individual differences will blur and in their stead will appear the uniform expression of the one unstilled urge.” Thank heavens, Sigmund Freud was spared knowing the concentration camps from the inside. His subjects lay on a couch designed in the plush style of Victorian culture, not in the filth of Auschwitz. There, the “individual differences” did not “blur” but, on the contrary, people became more different; people unmasked themselves, both the swine and the saints….
Man is ultimately self-determining. What he becomes he has made out of himself. In the concentration camps, for example, in this living laboratory and on this testing ground, we watched and witnessed some of our comrades behave like swine while others behaved like saints. Man has both potentialities within himself; which one is actualized depends on decisions but not on conditions.
Our generation is realistic, for we have come to know man as he really is. After all, man is that being who invented the gas chambers of Auschwitz; however, he is also that being who entered those gas chambers upright, with the Lord’s Prayer or the Shema Yisrael on his lips.
After a few moments, the principal quietly stated, “Talk about a paradigm shift! Imagine a full-blooded determinist saying, ‘Man is ultimately self-determining, what he has become he had made out of himself,’ or, that what is actualized in people ‘depends on decisions but not on conditions.’ Amazing.”
DURING THE AFTERNOON SESSION, Simeon hammered away again on the importance of responsibility and choice.
“I want to tell you a true story that happened to me roughly sixty years ago. I was in the sixth grade and my teacher, Mr. Caimi, uttered what struck me as the most profound words ever spoken. The kids in the class were complaining about having to do homework and Mr. Caimi yelled out, ‘I cannot compel you to do your homework!’ Now that really got our attention! He continued, ‘There are only two things in this life that you have to do. You have to die and you have to—’”
“Pay taxes!” the sergeant chimed in.
“Exactly, Greg, die and pay taxes. Now I thought that was the most liberating thing I had ever heard! What a deal for me! I mean, I’m only in the sixth grade so dying is a million years away. And I don’t have any money so I can’t pay taxes. I’m free at last! So I went home that Tuesday night, garbage night, and my father said, ‘Son, please take out the garbage.’ I said, ‘Hey, wait a minute, Dad. Mr. Caimi taught us today there are only two things in life we have to do, die and pay taxes.’ I will never forget his response. He looked at me and said very slowly, but very clearly, ‘Son, I’m glad you’re learning so many helpful things down there at the schoolhouse. Now you had better grab hold of your butt ’cause you just chose to die!’”
After the laughter subsided, the teacher continued, “But you know, Mr. Caimi didn’t tell the truth that day. There are people who choose not to pay taxes. As I speak, there are people up in the forests in the Pacific Northwest who have been living off the land since the Vietnam War. They don’t even use money, let alone pay taxes. Folks, there are only two things in life you have to do. You have to die and you have to make choices. From these you cannot escape.”
“What if you just decide to drop out of life and not participate in making any choices or decisions?” the sergeant challenged.
The principal answered, “The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard once said that not making a decision is itself a decision. Not making a choice is itself a choice.”
&nb
sp; “So what’s the point of all this choice and responsibility lecture anyway, Simeon?” the sergeant challenged again.
“Remember, Greg, we said the road to authority and leadership begins with the will. The will is the choices we make to align our actions with our intentions. I’m suggesting that, in the end, we all have to make choices about our behavior and accept the responsibility for our choices. Will we choose to be patient or impatient? Kind or unkind? Actively listen or merely be silent waiting for our opportunity to speak? Humble or arrogant? Respectful or rude? Selfless or selfish? For giving or resentful? Honest or dishonest? Committed or just involved?”
“You know, Simeon,” the sergeant said more quietly, “I’ve been thinking about my comment to you earlier in the week about how this loving behavior seems unnatural. Lee called me on it and pointed out that I do choose to act that way for important people. But it really doesn’t come naturally to me and I get overwhelmed just thinking about trying it with my troops. It just doesn’t seem like human nature.”
The principal offered another quote. “Human nature—that’s ‘Going to the bathroom in your pants,’ one expert says.”
“Well, isn’t that special! Where did you get that one?” the sergeant drawled.
“From the author of The Road Less Traveled, a psychiatrist and lecturer named M. Scott Peck,” Theresa grinned. “It does sound a bit rough on the surface, but I think his point is rather profound. To a young child, potty training seems like the most unnatural thing in the world. It is so much easier to just let it all go in your pants. But in time, this unnatural act soon becomes natural as the child practices self-discipline and develops the habit of using the toilet.”
“I suppose that is true of any discipline,” the nurse suggested. “Whether it’s learning to use the toilet, brushing our teeth, learning to read and write, or virtually any new skill we discipline ourselves to learn. In fact, now that I think about it, discipline is teaching ourselves to do what is not natural.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” the teacher exclaimed. “We can discipline ourselves to do what is unnatural until it becomes natural and a habit. And we all know we are creatures of habit. Have you noticed you are all sitting in exactly the same spots you started with last Sunday morning?”
“You’re right, Simeon,” I replied, feeling just a bit silly.
The teacher went on. “Perhaps some of you have learned the four stages of developing new habits or skills. These stages apply to learning good habits as well as bad habits, good skills as well as bad skills, good behavior as well as bad behavior. The good news is that these stages absolutely apply to learning new leadership skills.”
Simeon walked over to the flip chart and wrote:
Stage One: Unconscious and Unskilled
“This is the stage where you are oblivious to the behavior or habit. This is before your mother wants you to use the toilet, before you have that first drink or first cigarette, before you learn to ski, play basketball, play the piano, type, read and write, whatever. You are either unaware of or uninterested in learning the skill and are obviously unskilled.”
He turned back to the chart and wrote:
Stage Two: Conscious and Unskilled
“This is the stage when you become aware of a new behavior, but have not yet developed the skills. This is when your mother first starts suggesting the toilet; you’ve had that first cigarette or drink and it tasted so bad; you’ve put on skis, tried to shoot a basket, sat at the typewriter or the piano for the first time. It’s all very awkward, unnatural, and perhaps intimidating. Like you said a minute ago, Greg, right now the thought of applying and practicing these principles is a bit intimidating to you because you are in this stage. But if you stick with it, you will progress to the next stage—” He turned and wrote:
Stage Three: Conscious and Skilled
“This is the stage where you are becoming more and more skilled and comfortable with the new behavior or skill. This is when the child rarely has an accident making it to the bathroom, when the cigarettes and booze are tasting pretty good, when skiing feels a lot less awkward, when someone with the potential of a Michael Jordan is still conscious of his form but he’s getting the moves down, the typist and pianist rarely if ever need to look at their fingers on the keyboard anymore. You’re ‘getting the hang of it’ in this stage. What do you suppose would be the final evolution in developing a new habit?”
“Unconscious and skilled,” three people spoke out at once.
“Exactly,” the teacher said while writing.
Stage Four: Unconscious and Skilled
“This is the stage when you don’t have to think about it anymore. This is the stage when brushing your teeth and using the toilet in the morning is the most ‘natural’ thing in the world. This is the final stage for the alcoholic and the chain smoker, where they are practically oblivious to their behavior, habit. This is when you ski down the mountain feeling as natural as walking down the street. This stage describes Michael Jordan on the basketball court. Many sports writers have quipped that Michael performs as though ‘unconscious’ on the basketball floor, which is a more accurate description of what is happening than they probably realize. He certainly doesn’t have to think about his form or style; it has become natural for him. This stage also fits the highly skilled typists or pianists who are not thinking about individual fingers hitting individual keys. It has become ‘natural’ for them. Greg, this is the stage where leaders have managed to incorporate their behaviors into their habits and into their very nature. These are the leaders who don’t have to try to be good leaders because they are good leaders. A leader in this stage doesn’t have to try to be a good person; he is a good person.”
“It sounds like you’re talking about building character, Simeon,” I suggested.
“Exactly, John,” he confirmed. “Leadership is not about personality, possessions, or charisma, but all about who you are as a person. I used to believe that leadership was about style but now I know that leadership is about substance, namely character.”
“Yeah, come to think of it,” my roommate offered, “many great leaders had very different personalities and styles. Think of the differences between General Patton and General Eisenhower, Vince Lombardi and Tom Landry, Lee Iacocca and Mary Kay, Franklin Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan, or Billy Graham and Dr. Martin Luther King. Very different styles indeed, yet each an effective leader. You’re right, Simeon, there must be something more than style and fluff at work here.”
Simeon added, “The labors of leadership and love are character issues. Patience, kindness, humility, selflessness, respectfulness, forgiveness, honesty, commitment. These character building blocks, or habits, must be developed and matured if we are to become successful leaders who will stand the test of time.”
The principal said, “I hate to lay another quote on you all, but there’s an old line about cause and effect that I’m sure the determinists would love, and it seems appropriate here: ‘Thoughts become actions, actions become habits, habits become our character, and our character becomes our destiny.’”
“God, I really love that one, Theresa,” the preacher asserted.
“Yeah, praise the Lord,” the sergeant grumbled, as the session came to a close.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Payoff
For every disciplined effort, there is a multiple reward.
—JIM ROHN
I WAS SEATED next to the teacher in total silence at ten minutes before five on our final morning together.
He suddenly turned to me and asked, “What is the single most important thing you have learned this week, John?”
“I’m not sure, but I think ‘love,’ the verb, has something to do with it,” I immediately replied.
“You’ve learned well, John. A long time ago there was a lawyer, they use to call lawyers scribes, who asked Jesus what the single most important commandment was in Judaism. Now, try to understand the context of this. Judaism had been evolving for c
enturies and was recorded on thousands of old scrolls, yet this lawyer wanted to know the single most important thing in the entire religion! And Jesus obliged him. He told him simply to love God and love his neighbor.”
“So love is even more important than going to church or following a certain set of rules?”
“I have found that being supported by a loving community on our journey is certainly helpful but that love is infinitely more important. A wise old Christian named Paul wrote nearly two millennia ago that, in the end, only three things matter: faith, hope, and love. And he said the greatest of these is love. I suspect with love you will be on the right track, John.”
“You know, Simeon, you haven’t preached at us or imposed your religious belief system on any of us. And you’re a monk! At first I was afraid of getting preached at when I came here.”
“I think it was Augustine who said we should preach the gospel everywhere we go and use words only when necessary.”
“Yes, well, I guess you don’t really need words. Your life is an example for us all. I mean, you’re a model of unselfishness, giving up everything to come here and serve.”
“To the contrary, John. There are many selfish reasons I choose to live and serve here. Serving, personal sacrifice, and being obedient to the abbot and the order does wonders for breaking that self-centered nature of mine. The more I break down my pride and ego, the more joy I have in life. John, my joy at times is absolutely indescribable, and I am serving here selfishly seeking more of it!”
“I wish I had a faith like you have, Simeon. But faith, leadership, love, and all the other things we talked about this week are difficult for me and so natural for you.”
“Remember, John, things are not always as they appear. Early on I also found these things to be awkward and difficult. The Lord only knows how I struggled and still struggle to this day to deny myself and extend myself for others. But I will admit to you, it is easier now because these things have become more unconscious and skilled. And Jesus helps me along the way.”
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