Sunday
Mar282010
To Choose or Not to Choose
March 28, 2010 * * * * * Posted by: Marcie 
Nothing other than sweet child’s play. Innocent schoolyard games. Remember them? How could any of us ever forget.
Wishing to be Simon and the one who says. Or the chosen goose when playing ‘duck duck’. And the then there was that thrill when called out as the one that red rover called over. Each and every game was different..and yet their themes were all the same. To be the one who is sought after..the object of choice.. who is picked out of preference…who is selected.
To be ‘The Chosen’.
The games were harmless..meaningless..all in good fun and humor. Out of the mouths of babes. They were meant to be nothing other than that.
There was – in nursery school – always that someone who was crowned for the day…an appointed King or Queen of the classroom domain. Later – there was the teacher’s pet….the class monitor…the captain of the team. Into those formulative high school years...and there was the elected class president. After that there was the hope of being chosen by a certain university…selected out of a pool of applicants for a coveted job…and then to be awarded ‘employee of the month’. The list is endless. It goes on..and on.
To be honored. To be rewarded. To be the one who is picked out from amidst the oh-so-everyday-ordinary..and labeled as something else.
To be asked to be someone’s ‘best’ friend. Wasn’t that the most coveted award of all?
Such an honor..such a prestigious and somehow ambiguous prize. One more means of self-assessment and measurement. An excuse – maybe? – to be less than we might otherwise be. One more way where we grade ourselves thru the eyes of others..instead of eyes that are our own. What is it that drives this? Is it the wishing to be that special ‘someone’..or is it something else? If not ‘The Chosen’..then who other might one be? Or – perhaps – it is quite simply a fear of rejection..and nothing more or other than that.
Those oh-so-sweet games of childhood…that carry lessons and labels we carry with us to today.
To be ‘The Chosen’ …or to choose? The roots and meanings of these words are basically the same..but their significance is so vastly different. To be ‘The Chosen’..is to passively wait for another to determine one’s fate. It’s to allow someone else’s choices to define…to dictate where one fits..and - perhaps even - who one might aspire to become. To ‘choose’ - on the other hand – is both active and deliberate. It’s to decide for oneself a life that is best..that works. To choose to reject those roads and paths that might have been previously been chosen by another. To choose whether you want to be that person’s friend..not only because they are choosing you..but because you are doing that choosing for yourself.
Yes..we’re getting older. I am. More and more I find myself pondering and musing over these sorts of things. Maybe – it’s a rite of passage…or maybe something else. A sense of ground. A sense of earth. A subtle shift in awareness and perception. It happens slowly and almost without notice. A letting go of this need to forever be that one who is ‘ The Chosen’. A clearing and finding space for free-choice of my own.
To create…without anyone else’s voice in my head. To write…because words are powerful. And because they carry a weight and intention all unto their own. And because by quite simply putting these thoughts to paper..by actually writing them down and sharing them out loud – I know that I can put that sweet child’s play and those innocent games behind ..and now choose to be me.
Reader Comments (19)
oh ugh, what a nightmare the playground was for me! lol i didn't find those games innocent at all, and perhaps you don't either, as i read further on... later on i rejected all competition except with myself, which really was worse haha
Wow, so much to relate to in your contemplation! Made me think a lot.
Thanks!!
Marion
I guess it is different over here. We don't have 'employees of the month' and 'teacher's pet' and being captain of a team is not about honor, but about having additional tasks. In my teenage days being average in class was better for image than being best. A dutch saying is: don't stick your head out the mowing field (it is likely to be chopped off). This mentality however is not good for education in general.
Having just read Petra's Dutch idiom, I had to laugh because it's one I haven't heard yet. [Mental note to self: add it to my notebook of Dutch idioms!] But it raises a point: are these games and "honors" along the way cultural? Some of us have them and others do not? Regardless, all cultures surely know the difference between the passive act of being chosen (often something we have no control over) vs. the active act of choosing. Your point is so well taken, Marcie. Coming from a preacher's home, where I always had to worry about what people would think, made it harder to think/choose for myself as I became an adult. Still to this day I often will not say/know what I think about something until I hear what others are saying first. Finding my own Voice is not always easy. Add to that being a Golden Child in my home and then falling from grace. It can get very complicated if you don't listen to your OWN Voice and let it be all you need.
Needless to say, you've primed my pump! And the image you've chosen (yes, chosen) reminds me to keep looking for that carefree child within who has everything she needs to survive with Joy and Abandon! Thank you.
A photograph of utter beauty ! Tenderness and love to nature are visible here (don't know if I'm clear). As I'm greatly willing to write a text for you ladies ! But I wll need time. I'm terribly busy at the moment and have faw time on week-ends but it will soon stops.
Let me know if you have any topic or if I can write freely (I really need time to think about it and write it in good english). Best regards.
Good writing, Marcie. I enjoy visiting this blog and reading the entries and comments every day. I've lived in a house of women my entire married life. I've listened to my wife's frustrations and anger, and felt her pain, at being denied promotion, even though she was more qualified and had seniority; simply because of her gender. I've consoled my youngest daughter who was ridiculed and derided by her peers because of her ambition to be a drummer; a bastion of maleness. The peer pressure was too great and I was unable to convince her to continue with her dream. She IS a damn good drummer. As good as any drummer I've seen. Her male drum teacher loved her aggressiveness on the skins and took pride that she could destroy a pair of sticks in one sitting. It breaks my heart to see her drums sitting in the basement collecting dust. I keep them, hoping that one day, she will have a go at them again. I've listened to the anguish my eldest daughter suffered because she could not get dates or keep boyfriends due to their difficulty getting beyond the fact she was taller than they. Men seem to be insecure when it comes to women who are of greater stature; both physical and intellectual. Unfortunately, even in the enlightened 21st century, women still struggle with labels and stereotypes.
the photo looks as if she is ready to soar! I am not sure this goes along with your essay Marcie but as a preschool Music & Movement teacher I make it a priority to "choose" ie: include ALL... it is a really rewarding part of my everyday to see the joy in faces that participate just because they are always invited!!...it starts so young
Like Elaine, the playground was never a good place for me.
We moved too often for me to be one of the "The Chosen " on the playground or in any school situation so I don't really know what that part feels like. I do understand the concept though as it applies to other areas of my life and there is something very freeing about getting older ... in that the things that once seemed so important barely matter now.
Choose or be chosen. I can't even begin to say how much your insights strike home with me this morning as I sit pondering how to help my wonderful 15-year-old daughter navigate some terribly tricky choices laid before her in her school and athletic experiences. I know I'll come back to your piece again and again. Thank you.
I love the photograph and the sheer abandon of the child at play.
I always found it easier to be with the boys. Playing football (soccer) and just talk and yes we talked about many things. Up until I was 16 I had mostly male friends. There was another girl in the group and we had chosen the boys instead of the girls because it was not fun to compete every day to be with cool gang. Your text made me think a lot about that and how it has been for my kids in school. It is not the easiest place to "work"
You know, this just summed up exactly why I chose to call myself mrs mediocrity. This understanding that I am not chosen, (and in school, I never was) not so outstandingly special as to be different from everybody else, but rather just the opposite, that we are all so much the same, we are all human, and here, struggling with this human condition. It is the connections we make with others, the choices we make to be true to ourselves and those we love that in the end make us all special and unique.
I am so very glad that you have 'chosen to be you,' 'put the sweet child's play and innocent games behind,' and create and write with your own voice. You truly have a gift.
I truly enjoyed reading your words today. I didn't have a hard time on the playground when I was young, but I remember High School and befriending those that didn't fit in. We were the misfits that didn't have a label and I think that really made me a bigger person later on in life. I chose to be who I was instead of a "cowgirl", a "Punk", a "Jock", ect.
It was later in life, as an adult that I forgot who I was, who I chose to be and tried to please everyone else, change who I was to be what they needed, or what I thought they needed.
I am back to choosing to be who I am, and re-learning who I am. So this post truly hit home in me...
I love these thoughts. It is interesting how those inner turmoils of being liked and wanted and favored carry over into our adult lives. I remember walking through the halls in junior high school, hoping that someone, anyone, would say hi to me. Oh, those days were painful. It's so refreshing to be at this stage of life, where we feel comfortable and confident in our own skin--confident enough to do the choosing, instead of waiting around to be chosen. Great post, Marcie!
Another excellent post, Marcie. I always dreaded when we would play baseball/softball in school and two people were chosen to select the teams - I was always one of the last to be picked, always breathing a sigh of relief when lucky enough to be chosen midway through (usually by a friend). Even now, just thinking about all of that, I get a knot in my stomach, much like I did back then. Thank goodness we've grown up!!
Been through many cycles in life, and it feels divine choosing to be myself, again. You've expressed it beyond well.
It is always a process, the lifestages we are in. And it seems gratitude is always waiting for us at the end of the stage when we take time to reflect upon it.
Beautiful post, Marcie. I certainly feel much better and at ease with myself than when I was younger... and I like it so much! :)
thought provoking post that makes me remember my school days, not with much fondness i must say. i didn't enjoy school at all, had a terrible time with bullying (very tall and geeky) - was never in the 'in' crowd. but then i learned that being in my own 'school of 1' was cool in itself as well as being 6" tall. and it all then kind of came together :)