“Man is made or unmade by himself. By the right choice he ascends. As a being of power, intelligence, and love, and the lord of his own thoughts, he holds the key to every situation.”
James Allen (1864-1912) British-born American essayist.
Ultimately, how you respond to any given situation is your choice.
You can fold up, cave in and just let things happen to you. Or, you can choose a more arduous course – and – happen to things.
When choices, situations, responsibilities or commitments seem to be gunning for you, only you possess that singular opportunity to decide just how you will respond. And in many ways, that decision acts to determine just how it will turn out.
It can be grim. It can be mediocre. One of those “I knew that was gonna happen” moments. Or, you can simply choose to turn it into your shining moment.
Therein lay the opportunity inherent in all challenge, difficulty and adversity. Each of those moments represents an opportunity to choose how you will respond. Each can become precisely the outcome that you have the ability to determine.
So as Mr. Allen posited, you can choose to be unmade and exist with all that entails. Or, you can choose to be the lord of your thoughts and be made to ascend.
“People fail to get along because they fear each other; they fear each other because they don’t know each other; they don’t know each other because they have not communicated with each other.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.
Every season brings with it new and unique challenges. Just two games into ’26, we have already had our share. And then some.
We truly played as a team.
The passing and ball control was phenomenal for this early in the season. The movement and hustle down the floor made good things happen. I liked the shot selection for the most part. But those three pointers – and some even longer – must beckon them like sirens to Odysseus. Rebounding and pass defense solid, leading to many, many fast breaks.
As a coach now for twenty-five some years, there can be times during a season when you face teams above your skill level, and, those that fall below. I don’t care what sport you play or coach, your competition will always ebb and flow. That is just the way it is.
That being said, your responsibility as an athlete through out the competition, regardless of the situation, is to be an exemplar of character. Whether in the field of play or on the sidelines.
Sometimes that requisite is forgotten, overlooked or ignored. Ego can eclipse character just to win at all costs and by the highest score possible. Passion is somehow justified even when it is allowed to overtake compassion.
But not for these guys. They are true exemplars of character.
Playing with an all out passion for the game and for each other.
But even more so, competing with a genuine compassion for all.
In addition to Bishop Barron’s Daily Gospel Reflection, I also subscribe to a couple of other faith based sites that help me start the day. Today, there was a very compelling offering, akin to some of the thoughts I have shared the past week or so.
“Have you noticed how quickly a single comment or glance can change how you feel about yourself? One compliment can lift you, one criticism can crush you. That’s because many of us are still looking into the wrong mirrors—letting others, or our own performance, define our worth.”Pray.com
Right on the money.
Both external and internal mirrors can reflect a distorted image. One that somehow confirms your perception of another’s view of your worth. And another that can corroborate one’s own belief that they simply lack any value whatsover.
If you can learn to ignore and block out that levek of noise, you will begin to hear something altogether different. A truth about you spoken from genuine love and support. He knows the best that is in you.
Beleive what is truly there and let it be seen by all. And you.
It’s not the guy on the left, and for sure the one on the right. Lillian and Carmen were some of my favorites, but they definitely were not animals.
The one in my brother’s arms is.
Babe.
The Wonder Dog.
Went to the Chicago Humane Society to check out puppies. She was one of a litter of about six or seven, the only one with a bobbed tail. She crawled out to me. That pretty much sealed the deal.
She and I became very close. She followed the rules, learned to sit, stay, shake, smile, speak and even whisper. Nothing was eaten without saying “OK” and Babe did not need a leash. She stayed right next to me no matter the distractions.
Being very protective, she took out a larger dog that went after her and the stroller one of my children was in. The suture bill for the aggressor was well worth it.
She would go on runs with me, play frisbee and loved being in the car. You couldn’t say ‘Walk” around her. You couldn’t even spell it. You had to say “W-L-A-K” or else she would pester you until you acquiesced. Pretty much same with rides in the car. You could fake her out on a trip to the vet until she recognized the street, and curled up in the seat.
She did not beg around the dinner table, staying on the rug by the door. She liked peanuts, and would hold them in her front paws and crack it open, then leave the shell on the floor. If a burger was left over, she would eat around the pickle and leave that there too. Loved bananas, apples and especially oranges. If mom went to the crisper for one, Babe would be there at her feet instantaneously, putting on the puppy face to get a slice.
In college, she would hang out with Herman and Ajax. After house parties, those three would sneak out of the room, find the overflow buckets under the taps in the basement and lap up some beer. When we finally woke up, we would find them sleeping it off in the living room.
Babe just wanted to play catch, with someone or by herself. During the winter trimester, she invented a game of self-toss using frozen puppy turds in the yard. She would run laps with one in her muzzle, flip it in the air, catch it and run another lap.
On more than one occasion, a student passing by would see her playing like this, unaware of the toy she was using. They would bend down, clap their hands and say “Come here!”, so they could throw it to her. She would run over, drop it in their hands and assume the puppy play position, front legs down, butt in the air, tongue hanging out and eyes on fire. As soon as they realized what it was, they couldn’t let go of it fast enough, rub their hands and walk off somewhat irritated. Babe would just pick it up and begin the play anew.
Squirrels were her favorite target of the chase. Driving home one day, Babe in the passenger seat and windows down, she spotted a squirrel running in a yard on the driver’s side. No problem. When we got to the stop sign, she jumped across me, out the window and went after it, until it found a tree. They are lucky she couldn’t climb.
Despite this wild side to her, she lived a long life. To 17. She began to wander off, so we had to make a very difficult decision. When I took her to the park for the last time, she spent her time reminiscing. You could sense that she knew. She was calm when we drove to the vet. And stayed right by me. I held her as she went to puppy heaven.
...my temporary assignment. 