Be Steady
Written on Jan. 2, 2025.
“It looks like my day is gonna be pretty good, huh dad?”
A couple Fridays ago I took my son to see Sonic 3. Seeing these movies in the theater has become somewhat of a tradition for us, dating back to 2020 when the first one came out. The first two were a surprise- he had no idea that we were going- but he knew about Sonic 3 in advance.
This time, instead of just father and son, two of his friends came along. He was just as excited about this aspect as he was to see the movie (probably more so).
We were eating lunch at Chipotle when he uttered the quote mentioned above.
As his dad, in these moments, I feel a tension between two general feelings:
He’s so happy. Let him have this moment.
-VS-
There’s a lesson here.
On one hand, I was reluctant to spoil a nice moment for him. He was hopeful to the extreme, not CERTAIN that he was going to have a good day, but pretty damn close. There’s a strong instinct that screams at me to tell him “YES, son! With all that we have planned, this will be the best day of your entire life!”
On the other hand, I’ve known him for, well, his entire life. I can’t remember a single time that he was euphoric like this and didn’t suffer a letdown. After all, how could he not? His vision was of HIS ideal evening- what would be said, the mood everyone would be in, how hilarious the movie would be, and that every other constant in his life would remain, well, constant. He wasn’t considering the fact that the world gets a say.
Method one- acquiescing to his euphoric feeling- is so much easier in the immediate. Maybe, miraculously, his night WOULD go exactly how he envisioned it.
Maybe.
Or maybe, by trying to bend the world to his will, he would ruin it. Maybe bringing his vision to life would require him to boss his friends around. Maybe he would have to haggle with someone in the audience to trade their seats with him. Maybe, in his attempt to craft the perfect evening, he would rob it of the unpredictable nature that makes life worth living.
If the night were all about HIS vision, and his contentment depended on it, then it would take an absolute miracle to align the unknowable number of factors to pull it off, and he would likely miss the proverbial forest for the trees.
I didn’t think ALL of this out ⬆️ in the instant he made the comment. I just believe it’s generally best to avoid using statements like the one he made- to avoid using hope or desire alone as a determinant of happiness.
And no, I didn’t say all of this ⬆️ to him. In fact, I may have let it go (probably not) if not for the “huh, dad” that changed his phrase from the declarative to the interrogative.
You see, I think his euphoria made him nervous. He was standing on the top of an emotional mountain that he didn’t climb. His brain did all the work for him- one minute he was at sea-level, feet planted firmly on the ground, and the next he was on a peak. No gradual climb, no exertion, and no perspective, other than the potential for a catastrophic fall.
I believe he was asking for permission to revel in his euphoric state, for me to somehow verify and guarantee that the evening was going to be as great as he envisioned.
I believe he was asking for perspective.
And so I gave him mine.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Are you asking if you’ll have a good day just because you HOPE you will? Or are you asking if it’s POSSIBLE for you to have a good day?”
I explained that the quality of the rest of his day depended on his being willing and able to adapt and respond to whatever the rest of the day brought.
Will you still have a good day if one or both of your friends are sick? If they show up in a bad mood, and not the best version of themselves that you can picture?
Will you still have a good day if the movie won’t play, if the projector’s broken? (This happened to us at Sonic 1, and we switched theaters).
Will you still have a good day if the movie sucks, or if your friends complain about it the whole time?
Have you prepared yourself to shift gears if something terrible happens?
His answer to all of these questions was “yes”.
Believe it or not, his nerves seemed to melt, his anxious fidgeting gone (maybe because he realized that he had the upper hand, as he was the only sane person left at the table).
He has been taught the value of voluntarily facing uncomfortable circumstances to prove to his mind that HE is the one in charge, as opposed to the other way around.
He’s been taught to be mindful of extremes.
I don’t like crashing his euphoria party. It feels awesome-in the moment- to give in to it, to watch what appears to be unbridled joy in the face of someone you’ve been charged with raising.
“I did it!”, I might think. “I made him HAPPY! And doesn’t he DESERVE that? Don’t I?”
This is the same process that leads to the spoiling- and sometimes ruination- of a child’s potential. “I’ll buy you whatever toy you want and let you eat whatever you want whenever you want it and I’ll tell you no because I’m supposed to but I won’t follow through because all I want is for you to feel happiness and joy because that is my job and I don’t care what it takes we’ll deal with the repercussions later because just be happy because that is what you DESERVE”- this road does not lead to a healthy place.
Euphoria is an extreme emotion- the opposite of misery. As with most extremes, it’s often followed by a balance-seeking equal and opposite reaction. It’s a rush flying downhill on a bike, but at some point you’ve got to pedal back to the starting point.
My son is his own being, separate from me. It’s easier to watch the effects of these emotions in others, especially when you’ve been tasked with guiding said other through life. The truth is, we all experience the same emotions.
I know what it feels like to be euphoric. I used to call my wife after jiujitsu, riding the euphoric high of a good training session. Most often, I was in the car, and she was at work.
“What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“Oh.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing (this is the point where I realize I have nothing of value to report.) I just rolled, I’m heading into work.”
“Okay.”
I’d be super-excited but with no discernible reason “why”, and would blindside her with my enthusiasm about things that, in the moment, she couldn’t possibly care less about, sending my dopamine-fueled plane crashing straight back to earth. The coolest part about it was it was ALL. HER. FAULT. and so I could spin my crash into a healthy bit of resentment. (Nowadays I recognize the ego’s euphoric bliss for what it is, and temper it before I call).
There’s a middle ground between extreme emotional states. It’s fine and natural for the ego to go to those places, as long as you are cognizant about not taking the bait.
If you recognize that you are not your thoughts, then this process is relatively simple to do.
In the meantime, it can be helpful to seek out activities that show your ego that it serves You, and not the other way around.
My ego NEVER wants to turn the shower to cold on a winter morning.
My ego wants me to eat whatever I want, whenever I want. It’ll face the consequences later.
My ego has a vision for the perfect day, and if everyone and everything will just fall in line, that day could be achieved
My ego hates to be told “no”, by Me or anyone else.
My response to my son was intended to help him walk the path to having whatever kind of day HE wants.
To respond to what may come with gratitude and curiosity.
That having a plan is perfectly fine, but that his efforts would be better spent preparing himself to appreciate the experiences of his day versus being fully dependent on a particular outcome.
I’m hopeful of outcomes like everyone else.
I get excited about things all the time.
I don’t encourage anyone to dwell on all the negative things that could happen, to run down a list of all the reasons why you WON’T have a “good day”.
I just believe that the path to true joy, peace, and fulfillment comes not from wishing for it, but from learning to control the only thing that you can control- your response.
We were running late to the showing that I had tickets for, so I exchanged them (with exactly one minute to spare) for a slightly later show with less-than-optimal seats.
The movie was cool, but not as good as the first one, in all our opinions. Our seats were super tight to the screen, and one of his buddies slurped the melting ice in his soda for the ENTIRE FILM.
On the way home, we stopped at Walmart to grab some pizzas and saw an automated floor cleaner that was stuck in the bread section. We cracked up as this thing Austin Powers-ing itself back and forth, back and forth in a vain attempt to get free. It would literally move an inch before it stopped, chimed, and said “obstruction” in a robot voice. Easily the funniest thing those boys saw all evening- and I’d bet my soul that it wasn’t part of my son’s original plan.
We’re still talking about it.
Be steady.
Thanks for reading.