I seldom think about my limitations and they never make me sad.
Helen Keller
************************
There are many different kinds of limitations one can face in one's lifetime. Dwelling on them and their effects is one sure way to end up in a straight jacket.
Some people suffer from severe physical limitations, as did Helen Keller, blind and deaf from early childhood Some have less severe, but troublesome physical limitations of some sort. There are limitations of time, environment, upbringing and opportunities. And a particularly insidious form of limitation has to do with failures, things not done or not done properly.
Keller overcame her limitations in remarkable ways, learning to speak, earning a Bachelors degree from Radcliffe, wrote many books, gave lectures, won many awards, traveled around the world and established The American Foundation for the Blind.
There are many stories of people, crippled in some way, overcoming the obstacles and beating the odds against them by accomplishing things that seemed impossible. Those people are inspirations to all of us.
We've all heard of people who were born in impoverished circumstances who went on to become successful. Elvis Presley was born, alive, in a two room house in Tupelo, Mississippi, while his twin brother was not so lucky, born dead.
Paradoxically, there is a limitation to being born into wealth. I've seen examples of it. A boy growing up in a house of rich people, especially if he is an only child, may have everything taken care of for him. There will be no lack of anything. He may be pampered. Until he finally steps out into the real cold, hard, pick pocket world. He will probably adopt a very bad attitude when he sees that people are not deferring to him as he is used to.
I grew up in poor circumstances, never got a college education and was deprived of many things my childhood buddies took for granted. Even so I feel I have lived an active, productive life. But if I made a list of all the things I didn't do that I wanted to, all the things I wasn't able to do and all the things I did wrong through some lack of mine, the list would probably stretch down the street.
Sure, the blind and deaf can crawl into their own limited world and not venture anything else, the poor boy could not pick up the guitar and try to make music, the rich boy could go back home and live in luxury without having to deal with the cruel world.
And I could sit around and feel sorry for myself, regretting all the things I didn't get to do. But I refuse to walk into that dark, sad fog of self indulgent misery. That would be one sure way of driving myself permanently crazy. Straight jacket time.
It doesn't matter what we don't have and didn't have. It's what we do have that counts. And the world needs it.
DB - The Real Vagabond Journeys
Never give up.
*********************************
SUMMER QUESTION
Summer is moving along, people.
It's a long, hot, sticky summer, so here's a hot, sticky question for you. Don't let the recent New York State decision rob you of your thunder.
Same sex marriage. Should it be legal or not? If so, why? If not, why not?
dbdacoba@aol.com
Only 14 answers so far.
You have until the last day of summer, but don't dally.
I eagerly await your answer.
DB
************************
Showing posts with label limitations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label limitations. Show all posts
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Thursday, June 10, 2010
No Limits
The rivalry is with our self. I try to be better than is possible.
Luciano Pavarotti
# # # # # # # #
It has been popular for many years for young actors and actresses who come to New York and study acting with some teacher who is probably a bone head and can't act his way through a door, to say "I know what my limitations are." I tried to dissuade them from saying that.
I have never ever said that in my life. Why identify limitations? Why measure yourself up to the point of your capabilities and stop there? Why draw a line between what you can and cannot do and never step over it?
I never learned how to sing. I've done four musicals and two operas. I never took a dance class in my life. I played Zorba, a dancing role, and performed in two major modern dance programs. I never learned to play the piano. I accompanied dance classes for two years. I never took any formal training as an actor. I had a fifty year career on the stage. I never took a class in painting. Now I paint. I never got a college education. Now I write.
I'm not bragging. What I'm saying is it is possible for us to do things we can't possibly do. It is impossible to run a mile in less than four minutes. That's a medical fact. Man can't walk on the moon. That's a physical fact. A black man will never be President of the United States. That's a political fact.
I know what my limitations are. And every time they show up, I grab them by the tail, swing them around over my head and smack their nasty faces against the wall. There are things I can't do, because I haven't done them yet. In my senior years I'm not racing around tracks, walking on moons or running for political office. I don't have to do those things, and neither do you. But in my arbitrary retirement I'm always looking for the impossible things I haven't done yet.
Join me.
DB
*******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Summer is comin' 'fore you know it.
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
15 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
Thank you.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Luciano Pavarotti
# # # # # # # #
It has been popular for many years for young actors and actresses who come to New York and study acting with some teacher who is probably a bone head and can't act his way through a door, to say "I know what my limitations are." I tried to dissuade them from saying that.
I have never ever said that in my life. Why identify limitations? Why measure yourself up to the point of your capabilities and stop there? Why draw a line between what you can and cannot do and never step over it?
I never learned how to sing. I've done four musicals and two operas. I never took a dance class in my life. I played Zorba, a dancing role, and performed in two major modern dance programs. I never learned to play the piano. I accompanied dance classes for two years. I never took any formal training as an actor. I had a fifty year career on the stage. I never took a class in painting. Now I paint. I never got a college education. Now I write.
I'm not bragging. What I'm saying is it is possible for us to do things we can't possibly do. It is impossible to run a mile in less than four minutes. That's a medical fact. Man can't walk on the moon. That's a physical fact. A black man will never be President of the United States. That's a political fact.
I know what my limitations are. And every time they show up, I grab them by the tail, swing them around over my head and smack their nasty faces against the wall. There are things I can't do, because I haven't done them yet. In my senior years I'm not racing around tracks, walking on moons or running for political office. I don't have to do those things, and neither do you. But in my arbitrary retirement I'm always looking for the impossible things I haven't done yet.
Join me.
DB
*******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Summer is comin' 'fore you know it.
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
15 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
Thank you.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Demonstrated Daring 7/22/09
The person who makes a success of living is the one who sees his goal steadily and aims for it unswervingly.
Cecil B. DeMille
*******************
Join the wagon train.
---------------------------
I often write in this journal about limitations and the overcoming of them. That's because I have a lot of them and overcoming them seems to be the major issue of my life these days. My life is primarily taken up with negative pursuits, cleaning up messes, straightening out clumps, ironing our wrinkles, untying knots, dispelling daemons, chasing wolves, negotiating with monsters, staying alive. People whose names I don't even know are trying to nail down the lid on my future, my hopes and my happiness.
One may say all of my problems are in my own head. Maybe. But if so how did they get there. Ever since I was a little child I remember deprivation. lack and loss as the qualities that characterized my being. I DID NOT decide to be a poor person at the age of 6. When I had some money I was very generous with it and supported people and organizations I felt were valuable, helping people, children, animals and the planet. I did that until the money was gone. There has been no payback. That which went around has not come around. At the few times when someone came forth with a helping hand, though it was gratefully received, it was often inappropriate and useless. There were exceptions to that, such as my new monitor, which is the gift of a couple of solid gold blog spotters, and a very nice afternoon with another one who gave me some books. I love books.
The trouble is that one can become so involved in trying to get above the level of poverty that one forgets there may be something more to life. I try to think back to my youth to discover what it was I wanted to do, what my goal in life was, before I had to give up everything for the sake of getting by. I believe that if I latched on to that and went after it at high speed, most of the troubles I face would become less important. But so far my introspective fishing has not brought up anything. I know I had a goal, a dream, a desire once. What happened to it? Where did it go? It must be around here some place.
I was ridiculed out of being an astronaut in the 5th grade. I was called a liar in front of the class in 6th grade for my interest in politics. I listened to opera and classical music and read great literature because it had the ideas and ideals that were well above those that accompanied me in my squalid life. People said I listened to that music only because I was pretending, trying to show off a false erudition. Two brothers I knew came to visit me one Saturday afternoon and were baffled to learn that I actually listened to the opera when no one else was around. One day as a teenager I was publicly laughed at when it was discovered I had a book of poetry in my pocket. I was with the wrong people. But the right people were not around. My love of music didn't translate into talent so I became an actor, since that's where my talent was. To the day they died neither of my siblings could believe that that's how I made a living. The few times my mother saw me perform she had nothing but criticism for me.
But the stage was the only place I felt safe and secure because acting was something I could do and do well, and while I was on stage the deniers and suppressors couldn't get to me.
But now illness has struck down my acting career and without the money to get anything cured I'm left with little to do. One of the motives of my life has been to share what I have with people, even though sometimes it's resented. So now I write everyday in hopes that something I know and have experienced will be of benefit to someone. Even so, some people I know are saying "He's trying to be a writer." as if "being a writer" is naturally beyond my capabilities.
Now I struggle. I struggle with pain and illness, I struggle to get out of debt, to read from my books until my poor eyes get too tired and won't focus, to find food I can chew, to find my way out of this jungle of trouble, to have something to live for. I hope, at least, that my sense of humor doesn't abandoned me.
My vagabond journey is now a search for worth, value, purpose, the hopes and dreams for myself I had as a boy and that were knocked down and trampled on by circumstances. But I believe there is still a brightness somewhere I can't see, a light, a phoenix nest, a hidden naphtha waiting to burst into flame again. And I am searching for it. It's a search for the goal I left behind.
DB
_____________________________
Cecil B. DeMille
*******************
Join the wagon train.
---------------------------
I often write in this journal about limitations and the overcoming of them. That's because I have a lot of them and overcoming them seems to be the major issue of my life these days. My life is primarily taken up with negative pursuits, cleaning up messes, straightening out clumps, ironing our wrinkles, untying knots, dispelling daemons, chasing wolves, negotiating with monsters, staying alive. People whose names I don't even know are trying to nail down the lid on my future, my hopes and my happiness.
One may say all of my problems are in my own head. Maybe. But if so how did they get there. Ever since I was a little child I remember deprivation. lack and loss as the qualities that characterized my being. I DID NOT decide to be a poor person at the age of 6. When I had some money I was very generous with it and supported people and organizations I felt were valuable, helping people, children, animals and the planet. I did that until the money was gone. There has been no payback. That which went around has not come around. At the few times when someone came forth with a helping hand, though it was gratefully received, it was often inappropriate and useless. There were exceptions to that, such as my new monitor, which is the gift of a couple of solid gold blog spotters, and a very nice afternoon with another one who gave me some books. I love books.
The trouble is that one can become so involved in trying to get above the level of poverty that one forgets there may be something more to life. I try to think back to my youth to discover what it was I wanted to do, what my goal in life was, before I had to give up everything for the sake of getting by. I believe that if I latched on to that and went after it at high speed, most of the troubles I face would become less important. But so far my introspective fishing has not brought up anything. I know I had a goal, a dream, a desire once. What happened to it? Where did it go? It must be around here some place.
I was ridiculed out of being an astronaut in the 5th grade. I was called a liar in front of the class in 6th grade for my interest in politics. I listened to opera and classical music and read great literature because it had the ideas and ideals that were well above those that accompanied me in my squalid life. People said I listened to that music only because I was pretending, trying to show off a false erudition. Two brothers I knew came to visit me one Saturday afternoon and were baffled to learn that I actually listened to the opera when no one else was around. One day as a teenager I was publicly laughed at when it was discovered I had a book of poetry in my pocket. I was with the wrong people. But the right people were not around. My love of music didn't translate into talent so I became an actor, since that's where my talent was. To the day they died neither of my siblings could believe that that's how I made a living. The few times my mother saw me perform she had nothing but criticism for me.
But the stage was the only place I felt safe and secure because acting was something I could do and do well, and while I was on stage the deniers and suppressors couldn't get to me.
But now illness has struck down my acting career and without the money to get anything cured I'm left with little to do. One of the motives of my life has been to share what I have with people, even though sometimes it's resented. So now I write everyday in hopes that something I know and have experienced will be of benefit to someone. Even so, some people I know are saying "He's trying to be a writer." as if "being a writer" is naturally beyond my capabilities.
Now I struggle. I struggle with pain and illness, I struggle to get out of debt, to read from my books until my poor eyes get too tired and won't focus, to find food I can chew, to find my way out of this jungle of trouble, to have something to live for. I hope, at least, that my sense of humor doesn't abandoned me.
My vagabond journey is now a search for worth, value, purpose, the hopes and dreams for myself I had as a boy and that were knocked down and trampled on by circumstances. But I believe there is still a brightness somewhere I can't see, a light, a phoenix nest, a hidden naphtha waiting to burst into flame again. And I am searching for it. It's a search for the goal I left behind.
DB
_____________________________
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