How Unqualified I Really Am to Be There
I Will Still Teach “Better Humaning”… And It’s Going to Be Epic.
I notice the publication’s name at the bottom of my draft window, and I pause to muse somewhat humbly about the situation…
“Better Humans”… where coaches and academics change lives.
STEP ONE: remove lives carefully from the packaging.
Oh my capital G… I might be in trouble.
No pressure though. I’ve totally got this in the bag: with my experience and expertise…
Hmm… perhaps… well, certainly with my tenured academic position… no, that’s not at all true… okay, umm… bestselling self-help audio book, at least? Famous third cousin?
Am I somebody — anybody — at all worth noting thus far?
No, I’m afraid not.
No accolades. No diplomas — not even so much as a few poorly handwritten forgeries on bubble gum wrappers — to hold out obnoxiously, or hang in department store picture frames in my office. I don’t even have an office with walls on which to hang them! I may need a stiff drink and a stuffed animal…
STEP TWO: separate all respective section components into tidy piles.
So why on God’s blue earth was I accepted as a writer at Better Humans?! And why did I even apply in the first place? These are both excellent questions!
(Long, painful silence.)
And I just might have an answer for you… a truly acceptable one too, a more moderately satisfactory explanation than ever in your days have you heard…
… It’s around here somewhere… hold on please, for just a moment.
Yes, I’ve got it! Right under my nose the whole time, isn’t that always the way? How silly of me. Now, let’s see… B… B-E-T… better… ah, there you are:
better humans.
Noun, plural: Omnivorous mammalian bipeds with abnormally warm and fuzzy insides. Meliur Homo Sapiens Sapiens, or the Shiznits (informal).
See also, better humaning — verb: all things done by, or attributed to, better humans; or Melior Homo Sapiens Sapiens; or the Shiznits (informal).
STEP THREE: make a detailed list of all parts and pieces present.
I’ve clearly been half-kidding up to this point. (That last bit though, it feels right… and when I figure out how to make an official word submission to Merriam and/or Webster, I will notify you of its impending acceptance and the page number as soon as news breaks.)
Half-kidding, I say — as there are bits of truth in the tenacious disregard for my own worth. And my ignorance might very well be a big part of my value. What happened the last time someone said you couldn’t do something? Oh… you gave up. Seriously, you didn’t do it? That’s messed up, player.
STEP THREE AND A HALF: don’t do that.
My fellow better humans, please: if you can’t do it, I’m a platypus. Where there is no perceived worth at all, fake it until it’s made. Besides, there is a homework assignment at the end of this playful diatribe, and a pop quiz next week, so you ought to be hoping you’re worth at least a passing grade!
In all seriousness though, above the rest: I just love people. I love their progressions and pitfalls, their mad minds. Those curious things they feel and say — the sound of words out loud. (Louder please.)
I love that I AM, and that WE ARE, and that THIS IS.
It’s too simple, really... but, still, so it is. And I love that!
And — by some curious, unaccountable twist — I can write it all like the Dickens.
Those clever fortune cookie revelations upon which we faithfully base our lives — the grains of salt and stars, and such: I love finding exactly the right fit for words. It’s music — you know? Yeah, you know the ones… I know you know.
And I know you know that I kn — Sorry… I got carried away (I do that).
STEP FOUR: gather everything you see, and toss it up over your head.
Let’s just say that it will suffice when I say: I know you understand the psychological and emotional nuances of the great mess of words that just came out of my virtual mouth (as much as I do). And that makes us friends.
Compatriots, so to speak, of this unrequited rain dance.
And we’re here on the same stranded boat, looking for the same thing. Right? Dry land, yes… that’s a decent answer. But infinitely more important:
“For the human mind is seldom at stay: If you do not grow better, you will most undoubtedly grow worse.” — Samuel Richardson
Better humaning, silly.
One and the same, perhaps, in the end — becoming better human beings feels a lot like sticking our toes in the sand. Like finding solid ground, after all.
I know very little about it, as I’ve stated (and likely illustrated)…
But I’m almost ready to check the publication box at the bottom of my draft window, and I pause to muse somewhat humbly about the situation… because I do have value to offer. I have ideas that— if I can find the music, you know, and the volume knob — could have a fighting chance of changing lives.
Step Five: Record in a notebook, phonetically, the sounds of the falling debris.
(Testing, testing: everything is small — so easy — except ourselves. Pass the salt… Is this thing on?)
That’s all I’ve got though: ideas and a kind of symphony (which shows up sporadically). I can stand up in front of the class, sing a few soft notes, and slip back into the ranks as quickly as a cuckoo into its dusty clocktower.
STEP FIVE AND A HALF: sing every song as if it’s your last — your anthem.
“Who’s the new kid? He’s odd.”
How rude of me, I am so sorry…
Hello there, fellow Better Humans! My name is David Potts, and I am a writer and a thirteenth degree existential spin doctor — coming at you from Ontario, Canada.
Yeah, Canada. Wanna fight about it? (You win.)
This being my first day, I won’t extend too far beyond my awkward introduction. Only so much as to say: there is a whole world more still to be said — if you’ll let me keep spinning —and it would be my genuine pleasure.
Join me next time, in Room 712, when I will painstakingly pry open and dissect The Secret of My Success (starring Michael J. Fox), and reveal how you too can capitalize on life’s countless little opportunities.
Until then, your homework assignment…
Here’s my nutshell: What makes a human better? Meditate on each of these three principles for five minutes and sixty-one seconds (give or take)… and then GET YOUR OWN DAMN NUTSHELL!
- You will get back, in life, the equivalent of what you’ve put forth.
- Nothing feels better than making good people feel better. Period.
- The world doesn’t revolve around you… It revolves around me.
The pop quiz will be multiple choice and the bottom one third of those scored will serve detention after class, where they will write twenty-five times legibly on the blackboard: “I will be a decidedly better human, until death do I part.”
Step 6: Repeat, and then answer the question: “What am I, relative to a bang?”
(The eleven-step process — finished just above, but scattered throughout this piece — is not part of the quiz, but will inform all of our future lesson plans.)
A thing can often be much deeper than it seems — much like these brief lists I’ve given you — but not so deep as to be altogether inexpressible. Pull it up for a spell, take a quick peek and tell the class what you think you’ve seen…
Then put it back, for God’s sake! Life is a secret. (Shh.)
This piece of writing, which was my first submission to Better Humans, was promptly rejected — my first rejection so far in my short Medium publishing career. They had a good reason, and I’m writing another article (which will also be submitted to Better Humans, damn it) to explain everything. I may even write a third article highlighting the importance of the second! Believe it: stones do roll.
References:
- Richardson, Samuel, and Edward Mangin. The Works Of Samuel Richardson. T. Carpenter, 1811.