For some of you, I may be your Drama teacher. For others, I may be your English teacher. There is a chance that I could also be your old French teacher or perhaps the teacher who takes you to sport. Maybe I’ve struck up a random conversation with you at recess or possibly given you a smile on the train on my way to school. Regardless of how you know (or don’t know) me, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings on this winter’s day.
When I was at school, I had the same year coordinator from Year 7 to Year 12. I remember on our orientation day, she stood up the front of us all with a red rose in her hand. She told us that we had a decision in life; to make the right choices and bloom like the red rose or suffer the consequences by choosing to go down the wrong path. At this, she ripped the flower off its stem and shredded the petals in front of our eyes. Some students gasped, while others let out faint and uncomfortable giggles. I think I just stared; partly in confusion, but mainly in shock of what I had just witnessed.
Ms Woods was a stern and assertive woman.
She was also our greatest fan.
When it was time for us to part ways on our last day of Year 12, Ms Woods gave us each a single rose; signifying that we had indeed “bloomed” into adults. She also left us with a question that has stayed with me to this day:
Who are you not to be great?
I think this notion of greatness is one that is difficult to fathom. As a Year 12 student, I saw this as a chance to do something huge and out of this world. I’d leave my mark. I’d do something so amazing that I’d be remembered for years to come.
But then real life happened.
Odd part-time jobs.
University.
It was hard.
Really hard.
And it wasn’t just the work. It was the 1 ½ hour train trip from Windsor to Central and back each day. It was having no people I knew or felt familiar with. It was the questioning of what am I actually doing?
Fast forward to now, and I’m happy to say that my perception of the question Ms Woods posed us with has shifted. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s not always grandiose acts and gestures that make us great. It’s actually quite the contrary.
During isolation, I did something I never thought I could do. I started running. I began with 1km and then 2kms. It was challenging and tiring. I couldn’t breathe, but I kept going. 4kms, 6kms, 8kms, 10kms, 12kms. Something had shifted and it felt good. Plus, another interesting thing happened. A number of my friends started running. We’d share the maps we had run with each other. We would talk about how far we’d gotten and how fast we went. We’d cheer at how great we felt.
Here’s the thing. As soon as we get out of our comfort zones, we start living. We become a positive force for ourselves, but also for the people around us.
So, start thinking about the small things you can do to further enrich the greatness that already burns inside of you. Don’t settle for second best. You’re more than that. You’re great!
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” - Marianne Williamson
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