Re-Dedication
"To My Kids, For All The Times My Answer Was 'I Don't Know.'" - Michael Maderia
Today would have been my father’s 74th birthday. February 10th was always one of the days we celebrated most in our household. We bought him gifts with his own money, usually a T-shirt with his favorite sports team on it, and ate German Chocolate Cake. I honestly don’t remember if that was his favorite or if I pushed for it each year, saying it was because it was what I wanted to eat.
In the last few weeks, I have been reading a few of his favorite books on Taoism. Each one gives me more of a window into the man he was and what he believed. His passing was a pivotal moment in my life and my growth, and yet, I still have moments where I wish he could have met the version of myself that I am today. I wish we could have talked about spirituality and philosophy because I started my journey on those subjects through his passing.
Most of all, even though I told him I loved him daily, I wish I could hug him and tell him how much I love him from where I am now. I believe the people in my life know that there is more meaning behind those words when I share them than there may have been in the past.
The current state of the world and unrest have really brought home the fact that I am, in fact, an adult in this world without parents to look to for advice on what to do. Instead, I am of the age where others look to me for advice and guidance. Luckily, as the quote states above, my father was someone who wasn’t afraid to share with those he loved that he did not have every answer and never pretended to know more than he did.
When I turned eighteen, he wrote me a book of life lessons. I treasure it and sometimes joke about it on stage since the lessons are in the form of the lyrics of 90s and early 2000s female pop singers. But as I shared during his eulogy almost seven years ago, my father did his best to live by the three R’s: Respect, Responsibility, and Re-Dedication.
So, in honor of his birthday, here is where I stand with all three of those themes.
Respect
For most of my life, I believed the world to be black and white. There was only right and wrong with no in-between. “Respect” was to be earned through struggle and proving oneself. It was not something that was readily given, especially for those who viewed the world differently than I did. Mainly because, for so much of my life, any view that opposed my own felt threatening to me. Not necessarily because the viewpoint threatened my survival but more because it threatened the shaky ground on which my “correct” belief stood. And my perceived safety was born from the idea that I was standing on the right side of the fence.
In the past few years, it has been abundantly clear how complicated humans are. As I have lived in different parts of our country, I have found that there is no way to properly depict how another person will feel at any given moment. We are a walking amalgamation of programming and contradictions.
More importantly, we are all doing this human thing for the first time, and no one actually knows the answers to all of life’s biggest questions. Sometimes, it feels like those trying to obtain and cling to the most power in this world are those desiring a sense of safety the most because even they have no idea what all of this means.
When I came out as a young teenager, I didn’t need everyone around me to understand it, especially since I barely understood what it meant for me and my life yet, either. All I asked was that they respect it enough to leave me be as I figured out what it all meant and walked my path. I felt lucky at that point in my life that, for the most part, people left me be, and I hoped to extend that courtesy to others in the future.
There are days when respecting those who view the world differently than I do is easier than others. But the one thing I have found to be most true is that the more I respect myself for all that I am (and especially for all that I am not), the more easily I can extend the same respect to others.
No matter who they are.
Responsibility
Growing up, society frames responsibility in terms of your role in the context of others. Children are quickly taught their responsibility towards those around them (family, friends, teachers) or institutions (school, church, etc.). But as you get older, you realize the person you are most responsible for and to is yourself.
It is a somewhat horrifying moment in one’s life when you realize that the problems in your life are not the fault of the world around you but instead, situations that, on some level, you created and put yourself through.
Although self-help books preach the need for everyone to take full accountability for their own lives, it becomes increasingly evident that many cultural messages push us to do the opposite. It is only on planes that it is truly reinforced that we put on our own masks first.
A few months ago, when I went to see Elizabeth Gilbert speak in person, she talked about how little we humans actually have control over. But what we do have control over is incredibly important for us to focus on, which means we can’t waste our time worrying about things outside our control.
I think of responsibility in this way. My life, my health (both mentally and physically), my happiness, and my fulfillment are all my responsibility. How I treat others, especially those closest to me, is my responsibility. How I will be received or viewed by others is not.
The less time I spend trying to prove to others who I am and the more time I spend giving myself permission to be my true self, the better off I will be.
Re-Dedication
One of my greatest sources of frustration is when I, as a human, fall back into old patterns or stop doing the things I know I should be doing.
Let me repeat this, one of the greatest sources of pain in my life is when I do what one could argue is the most basic human thing to do.
This is silly, but I know I am not the only one who holds themselves to standards that they would never hold those around them to, especially those they loved most.
One of the most significant teachings in my life was a simple phrase uttered by someone I admire most.
“Begin Again”
He used it to help him bring himself back into focus, but I have found it to be one of the most important ways to redirect myself with grace in the moments when I inevitably fall short.
Never once has tearing myself apart with judgment and shame helped me to re-dedicate myself to taking better care of myself or loving myself more in the future. Neither has the belief that I am somehow meant to be a machine that is perfectly consistent when I set my sights on a goal and aim for it.
I used to hold fear that if I let up and loosen the reigns, I would give up. But every aspect of the person I have grown into and continue to grow into is a product of side steps, diversions, and missteps along the way.
There has never been a straight route in my life that led to a destination that was worth getting to. Instead, the greatest lessons have been learned through repeated “re-dedication” to myself, my choices, and my path.
I am learning to set the parameters of my life by what I truly want, and that alone. When I give myself the space to think about where I want to be, I find that it is often not where I initially would have expected, but instead, it is just a slight amplification of the parts of my life that I have the deepest connection with.
More than anything, I am learning to value progress over perfection. In that hope for progress, I realize that I will inevitably fall off the proverbial horse hundreds of times. However, each time I re-dedicate myself to getting back up, I am even more secure in the responsibility I have to continue forward and the respect I have for being given the opportunity to live this life at all.
I am grateful every day that I had a man to teach me these lessons in his life and even more in his passing.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss and love you.
With Love,
Clayton