Be Perfect

When we like a flower, we pluck it. When we love a flower, we nurture it.

When we like an object, we exploit and use it.

When we love an object, we appreciate and cherish it.

When we like people, we focus on what we get from them. When we love people, we concentrate on what we give to them.

The most successful companies, teams, and organizations are obsessed with what they are giving, not what they are getting. They are coworker-, customer- and client-focused. They attend and tend to the needs and wants of others. They sacrifice personal desires for communal, familial, and shared success.

Caveat: individuals ought not burn themselves to warm others. Individuals cannot fill others up with empty cups. Individuals must care for, energize, and nourish themselves to do so for their teams, too.

“You do not need to like everyone you coach. You absolutely have to love everyone you coach to maximize performance, unleash potential, achieve prosperity.”

Ever since elementary school, when I started competing on teams, there were coaches and teammates I did not like. Sometimes I felt they were in it for themselves. Sometime I felt they were distracted and prioritized other things. Most times, when I did not like someone, I felt they were more interested in being right than being relatable. As a kid, I was way more furious than curious, judgmental than just, frustrated with instead of fascinated by those who differed from me. What I seemed to know even then, however, and definitely know now: I never needed to like all my coaches and teammates. I needed to love them, no matter what.

No matter what? Yes, no matter what.

Others could be:

• Annoying

• Angry

• Boring

• Controlling

• Distracted

• Grumpy

• Ignorant

• Lazy

• Loud

• Mean

• Nasty

• Pessimistic

• Quiet

• Rambunctious

• Timid

• Weird…

and I learned to still be:

• Loving

“I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons and daughters of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” — Matthew 5:39-48

When I was a teenager, I used to dislike the Lexus slogan, “The Pursuit of Perfection,” because perfection seemed impossible. Excellence was a word I could get behind. Perfection remained too grandiose, too pie-in-the-sky, too unrealistic. Several weeks ago, when I re-read, “You therefore must be perfect, as your Heavenly Father is perfect,” I revisited its meaning. The root of the word perfect originally meant: to develop, to mature, to become complete. It did not mean sinlessness. It meant surviving and striving amidst sin. It emphasized why we are here: to truly and full discover who we are through and in relationships with others.

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of others.

– Carl Jung

People bother us when they cross what we value.

To know someone’s core values and needs is to know how that said someone could be hurt.

On the other side of that same coin, to know someone’s core values and needs is to know how that said someone could be nurtured, cared for, and loved.

I’ve never been the best player on any team I played on. I’ve always strived to be the best player for the team on any team I played on.

I remember, vividly, playing basketball in sixth grade. I played the position of point guard. My dad was the coach. Together, we communicated strategies on how to win and how to involve everyone while winning.

On multiple occasions, as encouraged by my dad, I passed up on wide-open lay-ups to pass the ball to a less-skilled player. One of those players was named Thomas. He was over six-feet-tall then (he is over 6’6” now, as I write this). Through size alone, he could and perhaps should have at least played varsity basketball in high school and college basketball. There was one major problem: his lack of hand-eye-coordination.

Thomas was a self-proclaimed book-worm who loved science class and invested his time outside of school studying insects, gadgets, and computers. I think he only played basketball because his parents forced him to. Nevertheless, I passed Thomas the ball several times during the two-of-four quarters he played (the rules required every player to play at least half of each game, which my dad measured down to each second). Most of the time, he’d drop the ball. Oftentimes, he’d catch it and then have it immediately stolen from him by an opponent. Once in awhile, he’d catch it and chuck it against the backboard or rim. His failed attempts never discouraged me nor my dad and the team.

Winning went far beyond the scoreboard, and kudos to my dad for consistently reminding us of that. During the fourth quarter of the last game of the season, the championship game, Thomas miraculously caught a bounce pass from me underneath the net, quickly flung the ball above his head, and scored. I may have jumped for joy higher in that moment than I did at the end of the game when we won. Thomas’ parents, who were also both above six-feet-tall, jumped out of their seats and screamed. My dad called timeout moments later to celebrate that accomplishment for an extended period of time. The entire team danced around Thomas and attempted to lift him up.

Thomas (although he also went to Yale University, oddly enough) was nothing like me. He had different interests. He had different motivations. He had different skills. He had a beard by 8th grade graduation and rarely talked to anyone; I, on the other hand, did not hit puberty until my junior year of high school and I have always talked to random people everywhere I went. Thomas did not care for sports whereas I devoted hours each day to exercise, practice, and training. His strengths were my weaknesses, and vice versa. How so? Everything I seemed to avoid, he seemed to relish; everything he liked, I did not. Who cares? I loved him. Why? He was my teammate.

When we change our expectations to appreciation, our whole lives change.

– Tony Robbins

As social psychologist, Devon Price, states: laziness does not exist; unseen barriers do.

How do we overcome any and all barriers?

Love.

- MG