An Otter Among Poodles

I had a professor who often said, “Work against your strengths.” He taught poetry writing, and he meant by that to work on being more expansive if your strength was in very succinct expression or to work on being more lyrical if your strength was in narrative descriptiveness. His theory was that whatever you were naturally gifted in would not go away with neglect. It’s everything else that needs your effort.

He had a good point, and following that advice helps people keep from getting in ruts. It creates constant challenges and opens the eyes to a steady flow of new ways to learn and new ways to improve. Improvement is good. Improvement means we are never just sitting still. We are never stagnating or regressing. And lives in motion, after all, are always more beautiful than lumps of aching flesh molded into sofa cushions.

I’m not good at being organized, but I don’t really have to live my life in clutter and chaos. I can work with that weakness if I choose. Lord knows, there are whole industries of products available to help streamline my life, chief among them that old standby known as the waste basket. I can bring order to all these stacks and piles strewn about…if I choose. It’s in me, and despite all of my excuses, life would become more pleasant for the effort of pinpointing a weakness and going at it with all the zest of a Chihuahua nipping at the heels of an unwanted guest.

On the other hand, sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves and others is to accept our limitations. I could have saved my parents ten years worth of piano lesson bills if I’d ever just said, “Hey, I’m tone deaf. I’m not ever going to be a musician.”

The trick is in the discernment. There is a difference in being a realist and being a defeatist.

The first night I went to Pilates class, I sent an email to a friend saying, “I was an otter in a room full of poodles.”

She replied, “Just enjoy being an otter. One day you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and realize you’ve become a poodle.”

It’s so easy to give up. I’m not athletic. I’m not limber. I just can’t do it.

I’m not smart enough. I’m not talented enough. I’m not ambitious enough. I’ve always had a problem with that.

Excuses abound, but sometimes the best things in life are the abilities we had to work the hardest to achieve. Maybe a strength neglected will not go away (but I have heard a lesson before about buried talents). A weakness neglected is almost certain to become a handicap. The choice is yours.